“Is she okay? She isn’t backing out, is she?” Cindy Bachman asked, hurrying over. She was a chubby woman with woolly auburn hair.
“She’ll be fine,” Loretha said. “Just give us a minute.”
“If she doesn’t testify, I don’t have a case.”
“We know that,” Loretha snapped. “Just give us a minute.”
Cindy threw up her hands. “This guy is a scumbag. I can’t convict him without her testimony.”
Loretha glanced down the hallway and muttered something under her breath that Angela didn’t quite hear. Loretha suddenly angled her body as if to physically shield Peaches.
“Hey, Peaches.”
A short black man accompanied by a lanky, balding white man, greeted Peaches as he headed into the courtroom.
“That’s Gerald,” Loretha said with a sneer.
Gerald Renthroe looked nothing like a pimp. At least not the pimps depicted on TV and in the movies. He was barely five-three with the build of an elf. His navy-blue suit and red-and-white tie was stylish enough that someone might mistake him for a midget lawyer.
“Did you see the way he looked at me?” Peaches screeched. “He’s gonna kill me. I can’t do it! I can’t do it!”
“Oh, this is just great,” Cindy said.
Angela glared at the prosecutor “You know, it might help if you showed a little compassion.”
“I’m sorry.” She placed a hand on Peaches’ shoulder. “I know you can do it, Peaches. Just answer my questions the way we practiced, okay?”
“We can’t force you to testify,” Loretha said. “It’s your decision. What do you wanna do?”
“If I testify, will he go to jail today?”
Loretha glanced at Cindy. This was only a preliminary hearing to decide if there was enough evidence to charge Gerald. The actual trial would be months away. Gerald was currently out on bail. He would walk out of the courtroom today and remain on the streets for months.
“The judge probably won’t put him in jail today,” Cindy said softly, “but if you don’t testify, the charges will be dropped.”
Peaches took a long time to think about her options. “I can do it,” she finally said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “When I remember how he punched me in my face and busted my lip I know I have to do it.”
Cindy’s face brightened as she started walking toward the courtroom. “I’m going inside and let the judge know we’re ready to proceed.”
Peaches stared up at Angela. “Would you testify if you was me?”
Angela hugged her. “I’d be scared just like you are. But, yeah, I would.”
It was another ten minutes before the courtroom door opened and Cindy beckoned them inside.
Angela and Loretha walked a shaky Peaches down the center aisle of the courtroom. Since this was a preliminary hearing, there was no jury present. Only the judge would decide if the prosecutor had enough evidence to proceed with a trial against Gerald.
“Go on up and take a seat in the witness box,” Loretha urged her.
The prosecutor smiled warmly at Peaches.
“Swear the witness in,” Judge Rene Blaine instructed.
The clerk stood. “Do you solemnly affirm that the testimony you are about to give in the case now pending before this court shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”
Peaches looked around as if she was confused.
The judge peered down at Peaches from her perch. “Young lady, did you understand?”
“Yes. I’ma tell the truth.”
Peaches did as they had told her and kept her gaze directly on Cindy and not on Gerald.
“Please state and spell your name for the record,” the clerk stated.
“Priscilla, but they call me Peaches.” She quickly spelled her name. “They told me I can’t say my last name cuz I’m a juvenile.”
“Ms. Bachman,” Judge Blaine said, “you may proceed.”
Cindy stepped forward. “Is it okay if I call you Peaches?”
“Yep.”
“And how old are you, Peaches?”
“Fifteen.”
“And where do you reside?”
“In Los Angeles County. They told me I can’t say where I really stay cuz it’s a safe place for gettin’ out of the life.”
“Do you know the defendant Gerald Renthroe?”
Peaches shuddered, then nodded her head.
“You’ll have to speak out loud so the court reporter can take down your words,” Cindy said.
“Okay.”
“So do you know the defendant?” Cindy repeated.
“Yes.”
“And how do you know him?” Peaches stole a quick glance at Gerald, then at Loretha and Angela sitting in the galley.
“Uh…he was my boyfriend.”
Loretha grabbed Angela’s hand. They had rehearsed this with Peaches over and over again last night. That was not the answer she was supposed to give. She was supposed to say that Gerald was her pimp.
The prosecutor looked down at some papers on the table in front of her.
“Isn’t it true that he’s also your pimp?”
Peaches hitched her right shoulder. “Um…I don’t know.”
Cindy glanced back at Loretha. She had personally called the prosecutor’s office and pressured them to file charges against Gerald.
“Did Mr. Renthroe punch you in the eye and give you that cut on your lip?”
Peaches absently touched her face. This time, her eyes darted toward Gerald and stayed there. She did not respond for a long, long time.
Loretha was squeezing Angela’s hand so hard it hurt.
“I don’t remember,” Peaches finally said.
Gerald leaned over to say something to his attorney. Angela could see that he was smiling.
Cindy ran her hand through her hair. “Your Honor, may I approach?”
Gerald’s attorney followed the prosecutor to the bench. Angela knew what was about to happen and it made her want to scream. The sidebar was over in a minute or so.
The two lawyers returned to their respective tables while the judge scribbled something on the paper in front of her.
“Young lady, you can step down,” she said to Peaches. “Case number CV-9838, The People vs. Gerald Renthroe, is hereby dismissed.”
Chapter 60
Day Four: 8:45 a.m.
Dre and his buddies left the warehouse in Gardena and spread out to search each of the six locations found in Clint’s phone. After their skirmish at the club, Gus and D’wan drove straight to the Valley and waited for Dre’s call. He directed them to check out the house on Wardlow Circle, while Dre and Mossy covered three addresses in L.A., and Terrell and Bobby split up to search the remaining two.
The first house Dre and Mossy checked appeared to be abandoned, the second looked lived in, but there was no one there. Dre’s confidence was waning when he received a call from Gus.
“She ain’t here,” Gus said. “Whoever was here left in a hurry.”
Seconds later, Dre got a similar call from Terrell and Bobby.
Dre and Mossy were only a few blocks away from the last location. “She ain’t gonna be there,” Dre said dejectedly. “I don’t know why we’re even lookin’. As soon as we grabbed Clint, The Shepherd probably moved all of the girls out.”
All Dre wanted to do right now was go back to the warehouse and beat Clint to death.
“We’re almost there,” Mossy said. “So we might as well check.” Dre could tell from his somber tone that Mossy didn’t believe Brianna would be at the last house either.
As he drove through an intersection on Broadway, Dre’s smartphone rang. The caller ID showed a blocked call. Dre answered it, but didn’t say a word. It was several seconds before the caller spoke.
“You obviously don’t understand who you’re messing with?” The Shepherd said evenly.
“No,” Dre replied with equal cool, “I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand.”
&nb
sp; He hit the speakerphone button so Mossy could hear the conversation.
“You’re really disrespecting me.” The Shepherd was clearly agitated. “I don’t tolerate disrespect.”
Although Dre hadn’t been in the club when Clint was grabbed, he’d assumed that The Shepherd would have no trouble linking him to the abduction.
“I had to do what I had to do.”
“I figure Clint’s probably already told you where Brianna is,” The Shepherd said. “He’s weak. But don’t waste your time going over there. She’s been moved to a different location.”
Of course, Dre knew that now.
“Clint gave us a lot of information about your business,” Dre lied. “You run a very lucrative operation. The police will be quite interested in all the stuff your boy told us.”
The Shepherd was silent for so long that Dre was certain his threat had registered with the force he’d intended.
“So you want your boy back?” Dre pushed.
The Shepherd laughed. “Naw. You can keep him. Do you want your niece back?”
Dre’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
“I can’t hear you,” The Shepherd taunted.
“What kinda dude are you?”
“I’m a businessman, just like you. You didn’t answer my question. Do you want your niece back?”
Mossy tapped him on the forearm and gave him a look that ordered him to play along.
“Yeah, I want her back.”
“Well, because you disrespected me the way you did, I’ll have to decide now whether I actually want to give her back. I’ve been shipping a lot of girls down South. The brothers in Birmingham or Atlanta would love a little tender like Brianna. Or I might just ship her across the border to Mexico and let my brown-skinned brothers have a go at her.”
While the threat of Brianna being transported out of state terrified him, there was something about hearing The Shepherd speak her name that turned his feelings of fear into fury.
Mossy held up a hand, signaling Dre to stay calm. Loretha’s advice came back to him and he knew that he needed to play to The Shepherd’s ego. Dre tried, but he couldn’t do it.
He spoke with total calm. “I’m going to kill you.”
Mossy threw up his hands.
“Don’t make threats you can’t back up, Businessman,” The Shepherd said with a chuckle.
“I have somebody headed over to your house in Newport Beach right now.” The false threat eased his anxiety a bit.
“Don’t play me,” The Shepherd seethed.
Dre happily recited his Newport Beach address.
“Clint gave up your address quick too,” he said. “You should be more careful selecting your underlings. That boy is weak. He’ll probably tell the police everything he knows.”
Once again, The Shepherd did not have a quick retort.
“So if I were you, Rodney,” Dre continued, “I’d do the right thing and let Brianna go. You don’t want me on your ass for the rest of your life.”
The Shepherd finally found his voice. “Like I said, I’m not quite sure what I want to do with the little whore. I need to give this some additional thought. In the meantime, tell Clint he’s fired.”
The line went dead.
Dre jerked the steering wheel to the right and lateraled across two lanes, coming to a stop in front of a dry cleaners.
“Dude, you okay?” Mossy asked.
Dre was wound way too tight to speak right now, much less drive. He felt like ramming his car into something, anything. But for Brianna’s sake, he knew he couldn’t lose it.
“Look, man, you gotta get some sleep. Even if it’s just for a couple of hours. That way you’ll have a clear head and we can figure out our next step. And I’m driving from now on. Let’s trade seats.”
“I can’t sleep. I have to—”
“Dude, you’ve been up for four straight days. You need to sleep and you also need to take a shower because you’re funky as hell.”
Mossy climbed out of the car and walked around to the driver’s side.
“I’m not playin’, man. Get out. I’m taking you home.”
Chapter 61
Day Four: 9:00 a.m.
In nearly three decades of teaching, Bonnie Flanagan had never seen kids like this.
“Daunte, if I have to tell you to sit down one more time, I’m sending you to detention! I mean it!”
Bonnie had a splitting headache, and the day had just started. She had no idea how Ms. Williams handled these kids without losing her mind.
“Michael was standing up too,” Daunte said with a pout. “Why you only pickin’ on me?”
“Just finish your test!”
Although this was a seventh-grade class, these kids were reading at the third-grade level. Bonnie had been determined to show Manuel Ortiz that he hadn’t beaten her. She’d planned to whip these kids into shape to further prove that she was an incredible teacher. If she could just get the troublemakers under control, she might actually be able to teach them something.
A hand shot up in the air near the back of the room.
“Ms. Flanagan, I’m finished,” Chiquita Gomez announced happily. “Can I leave?”
“My goodness,” Bonnie mumbled to herself. When did the Mexican parents start giving their babies crazy names? She had a hard enough time with all the Shaquishas and Tyeshas. Why would somebody want to name their child after a banana?
“No, you cannot leave. Class isn’t over yet. Review your answers to make sure they’re correct.”
Chiquita had long Snooki-looking hair and a rose tattooed on her neck. She was barely thirteen and already a D-cup.
“She just wanna go see her boyfriend, Mr. Ortiz,” Daunte said.
“Stop saying that!” Chiquita yelled.
“Ain’t my fault you got an old, fat boyfriend with a big stomach.”
“I ain’t got no boyfriend. So stop saying that! He just let me work in his office.”
Bonnie’s radar shot straight up. Since when were students allowed to work in the principal’s office?
“Daunte, please turn around and finish your test.”
She walked over to Chiquita’s desk. “I need you to come outside with me, young lady.”
The whole class started to snicker.
“Chiquita in trouble now!” Daunte teased.
Bonnie pressed two fingers against her throbbing temple as she led Chiquita out of the classroom. They stepped into the empty hallway. Bonnie didn’t close the door because she feared the students might ransack the room. She motioned Chiquita several feet away from the door.
“How long have you been working for the principal?”
“About a month,” she said, clearly proud.
“And what do you do?”
“I put papers in alphabetical order and stuff like that.”
Alphabetical order? He has two administrative assistants to do that.
“Does he pay you?”
“Yep. He give me forty dollars every time. But Mr. Ortiz told me not to tell nobody because the other students would be jealous.” She stuck out her lower lip. “But I messed up and told Marquon. That big mouth had it all over the school by the next day.”
This was highly inappropriate. Was the man just plain stupid?
“Who else is in the office when you’re doing your work?”
Chiquita shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m busy doing my work.”
“When do you work for him?”
“After school on Mondays and Thursdays. I have to go to work today.”
Bonnie wasn’t sure whether to ask the next question. But she had to know.
She looked the girl dead in her eyes. “Has Mr. Ortiz ever done anything inappropriate when you’re helping him out?”
Chiquita’s face scrunched up. “Like what?” It took a few seconds more, then something registered.
“Ms. Flanagan! I can’t believe you asked me that!” Chiquita exclaimed. “Mr. Ortiz is a very nice man! He wouldn�
��t never do nothin’ bad to nobody.”
“I know,” Bonnie said. “I just wanted to make sure. You can go back inside now. And don’t tell anyone I talked to you about this.”
That was a wasted directive. Chiquita would be spilling her guts as soon as the bell rang.
Bonnie remained in the hallway. She could hear the students inside cutting up as Chiquita walked back in.
Bonnie wasn’t convinced that the girl was telling the truth. If something inappropriate was going on between Chiquita and Mr. Ortiz, the girl probably wouldn’t admit it. Why in the hell would he have a student alone in his office after hours? Especially a student like Chiquita, who had a body more shapely than many grown women.
This time, Bonnie would not just push her suspicions aside. She would hang around after school ended today and pay Mr. Ortiz a visit. She would find out for herself just what kind of work Chiquita was really doing.
Chapter 62
Day Four: 9:25 a.m.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Loretha said to Peaches outside the courtroom. “We know you tried. Don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”
Loretha held Peaches close.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Peaches cried. “But I was too scared.”
Angela rubbed her back. “We know, we know. It’s okay. Let’s get out of here.”
Angela did not want Peaches to have to face Gerald when he walked out of the courtroom.
But it was too late. Gerald stepped into the hallway and marched right up to her.
“Hey, Peaches,” he said. “Thanks for telling the truth in there.”
Angela stepped between them. She could see the top of Gerald’s head. “Get the hell away from us.”
Gerald smirked. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but you need to stay out of my damn business?”
His red-faced attorney stood off to the side. “Uh…Mr. Walker…I uh...I think we should leave.”
Gerald looked over his shoulder at his attorney. “You shut up too.”
“You lookin’ good girl,” he said to Peaches. “I really like your hair. You look really pretty today.”
Peaches pulled away from Loretha. She looked at Gerald, then touched her hair.
Anybody's Daughter (Angela Evans Series No. 2) Page 22
