“Would you like a drink?”
The woman waved her hand and shook her head.
“What woke you besides the storm, Omolola?”
“Don’t you mean Adriane?”
Her mother’s expression soured and she grimaced. “I don’t care what name the government gives you, you will always be my Omolola.” Jamilah brushed her hand over her lush, peppery mane and took a seat at the kitchen table.
“I want this nightmare to be over,” Alex continued. “I want to stop seeing Xavier Rivera in every shadow.”
Harkening back to her previous life, she supposed this existence was justifiable recompense for how she and her former associates made others feel when threatened: anxious, scared, and constantly on edge.
“You think vodka will help you sleep?” Jamilah asked.
“It sure as hell couldn’t hurt.”
“Omolola, I’m worried about you.”
“You don’t need to. I’m fine, Mama. Go back to bed.”
“Now, how are you going to tell me not to worry? You’re not eating. You’re not sleeping. I’m going to worry about you as much as you worry about your own child. I just wish I could make this better for you somehow.”
“Mama, you’ve done everything you could possibly do. You gave up your entire life because of me. It’s my fault you had to sacrifice so much.”
Jamilah stood and went to Alex. She put her arms around her and gave her a big squeeze. “Don’t take this all on yourself. It was my decision to come with you. And they’re going to find that man, you’ll see. We’re going to be all right, Alexandra. We have John here to look after us.”
“Yes, but for how long? He’s got his own life. He’s got other cases.”
“He’s going to be here for as long as we need him. Besides, I have a feeling that man likes you.”
“Mama.” Alex pulled away, nearly blushing. “What would make you say something like that?”
“I see the way he’s been looking at you. It may have been awhile, but I can still tell when a man feels something for a woman.”
Alex pondered her mother’s words as she savored the alcohol in her glass. “He’s just doing a job, and that job does not include having a relationship with the woman he’s supposed to be protecting.”
“Uh huh.” Jamilah smirked. “I think I will have that nightcap after all.” She pulled a glass from the cupboard. “John Chase is a man, and that’s all I need to know.”
Alex grabbed the bottle and sat down at the table. “Romance is the last thing I need to be thinking about right now; especially with someone like him. I don’t have the best track record when it comes to relationships.”
Her mother joined her. “Tirrell Ellis is nothing like John Chase, in case you hadn’t noticed. Neither was Raymond for that matter.”
The doorbell rang and both women gasped and froze in mid-thought. Jamilah clutched the top of her blue satin robe close around her neck and started to get up. Alex reached out her hand to stop her and went ahead of her. She leaned into to the peephole, but it was too obscured to make anything out.
“Adriane,” the mellow baritone called out. “It’s John.”
Alex disarmed the alarm and threw open the door as fast as she could unlock it. The presence of the solid, good-looking, 220-pound, six-foot-two-inch inspector was reassuring. His confidence was one of the things she found most appealing about him. She’d consistently been drawn to that attribute in a man. Her husband was like that; so was Tirrell, at least, in the beginning.
“What have I told you about opening the door without first making sure you know who it is?” the man chided.
“You don’t think I recognize your voice after all this time?” Alex repressed the urge to smile.
Despite himself, John smiled. He looked over her shoulder and nodded to Jamilah. “Is everybody all right in here?”
“We’re fine,” Jamilah assured him.
“I checked around the grounds,” John continued. “I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary.”
Alex moved away from the door and allowed him to enter. He stomped his wet shoes on the mat outside before stepping in. Jamilah hurried to the counter and grabbed a handful of paper towels to give to him.
“Thank you.” John took the towels and wiped his brow and clean-shaven head.
“Inspector, can I fix you a drink?” Jamilah offered.
“No, I’m fine.” He turned his attention to Alex. “Could you make out anything about the man you saw outside?”
“I’m not even sure there was a man,” Alex admitted. “It may have been just my imagination playing tricks on me.”
“Alexandra,” Jamilah injected, “you didn’t tell me you saw someone outside.”
“Because I’m not even sure I saw anything at all.”
“Whatever it was it scared you enough to call John over here.”
Alex rubbed her eyes and moved to the kitchen table for her glass. “John, it really wasn’t necessary for you to come over here in the middle of the night like this. I’m sorry I dragged you out of bed or whatever.”
“You didn’t drag me anywhere. I wasn’t asleep. You, your mother, and your little girl are my prime concern right now. Until we get Rivera we don’t know who’s out there who could be after you, so we need to be vigilant. And that includes you all getting used to calling each other by your new names, even when you think you’re alone and no one can hear you.”
“I know,” Alex agreed.
“I just hate being called Janette,” Jamilah complained.
“You’re gonna have to,” John insisted. “If I’m gonna do my job effectively, you have to play your parts in all of this. Otherwise, we may as well lead you right to the slaughter. Xavier Rivera is going to do everything in his power to find you and keep you from testifying. I’ve gotta do everything I can to keep you safe.”
Jamilah interpreted the look that passed between her daughter and the stalwart inspector and smiled as she poured more vodka into her glass and pretended to yawn. “Well, if you two will excuse me, I believe Miss Janette is finally ready to get back to bed.”
“Good night, ma’am.”
Alex left the kitchen and returned with a bigger, more suitable bath towel from the linen closet in the hall. “Here. Give me your jacket and you take this.”
John peeled off the wet rain slicker, exchanged it for the dry towel, and sat down.
Alex took the raincoat, hung it on a doorknob, and watched him as he rubbed and patted the moisture from his face, arms, and neck. “Are you sure I can’t fix you something to drink?”
“I’ll take a cup of coffee if it’s not too much trouble.”
Alex pulled a filter from the cupboard and filled the coffee pot with water. She felt his eyes watching her from behind and shook her head.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Do you think it’s going to be like this forever?”
“What do you mean?”
She turned around, pulling the tie on her robe tighter, and walked over to the table to sit down. She picked up her glass and swirled the remnants of ice with her index finger. “I’m not used to being the one who’s afraid all the time. I’m used to having a certain amount of control over my life. I hate that I’ve allowed myself to be put in a situation for it to be taken away. I can’t get over the fact that even when they catch Xavier, I still may not be able to go back to the way things were.”
John leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs with the towel draped around his neck, rubbing his hands together. “Look, I know you’re scared. It’s all right. We’ve taken every precaution to protect you.”
“Do those precautions include you sticking around after he’s caught?”
They looked into each other’s eyes. The concentration in his gaze caused her to blink and look away. She tossed back the watered-down remains in her glass and went to the counter.
“I think the coffee is ready. Cream and two sugars, right?”
Joh
n cleared his throat and sat back in the chair. “Right.”
Alex poured two cups of coffee and returned to the table. Their eyes darted nervously as they gingerly sipped the hot brew. Neither seemed to want to be caught looking at the other.
“I didn’t mean to imply anything by what I said,” Alex confessed. “Blame the vodka.”
“I think I’ve heard that song before,” John quipped.
Their mutual laughter masked the growing tension.
“I guess this is my lame attempt at getting to know a little more about you after all these months. I mean you’ve got this huge file with every sordid detail of my life since the day I lost my first tooth.”
John put his cup down on the table. “There’s not a whole lot you need to know about me.”
“Why not? You’re not married, are you?”
He averted his gaze.
Alex’s eyes widened with surprise, given all this time she never thought that he might be. “Oh, wow. You are, aren’t you? Damn, I must really be slipping. I used to be able to smell a married man from across the room—even if he didn’t wear a ring.” She looked at his hand as he absently rubbed the finger where a wedding band had been.
“For the record I’m separated.”
“Separated as in different living arrangements, or separated as in ‘we’ve got our problems but we still sleep together’?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Isn’t it always?” Alex stood up and walked into the adjoining living room. “I can’t believe I . . . You know what, it’s late. You should probably go home. We’ll be okay.”
John followed. “I wasn’t trying to upset you. I just didn’t think my personal life was relevant.”
“You’re right,” Alex snapped. “It’s not. I just feel really stupid right now.”
“Well, you shouldn’t.”
“I should have realized from the moment I—”
“From the moment you what?”
“I’ve depended on you more than I should have, that’s all.”
“Your safety is my job.”
“You’ve made that more than clear.”
John sighed, exasperated. “Are you pissed off at me now?”
“More so at myself.” Alex walked over to the door where John’s damp jacket hung, picked it up, and held it out to him. “As usual, Inspector, you’ve done an excellent job of looking out for us, but like I said, it’s late.”
“Alex . . .”
“For the record the name is Adriane. Remember?”
John lingered for a few seconds longer before leaving the house, and waited in his car until Alex shut the door.
After locking it, she went around rechecking the windows and doors before returning to the bottle of vodka she’d left on the kitchen table. Curling up at the end of the sofa, she poured another drink, and turned on the television. Her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. She scanned the channels, fighting the sleep she desperately needed, berating herself for feelings she had no right to have. She waited for the demons that would inevitably invade her dreams.
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Outcast Copyright © 2013 Lewis Ericson
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Outcast Page 27
