“Let me be the judge of that,” Rodney smiled. He looked up at Colin. “You military?”
Colin nodded. The attorney set his briefcase on the table and opened it.
“Good,” Rodney said. “I need you to think about how we’re getting out of the building.”
“I can’t get us out of this room . . . ”
“I have that covered,” Rodney leaned over to look in the briefcase. He saw a cup of yogurt and a plastic spoon. “You mind if I take your spoon?”
“It’s plastic.” The panicked attorney stated the obvious.
“I see that.” With practiced ease, Rodney broke the rounded end off the spoon. He held up the shaft of the plastic spoon. Using his house key, he shaved the spoon down so that the two outer edges of the spoon stuck out. He held it up to the light. From the pile from Colin’s pockets, he took out two rubber bands and wrapped them tight around the spoon.
“Are we going to kill someone?” the young man whispered.
“Am I under arrest?” Rodney asked.
“No,” the attorney said.
“Then I have a right to come and go as I please,” Rodney said. “Is that correct?”
“That’s correct,” the attorney said.
“Did you come up with a plan?” Rodney asked Colin.
Colin nodded.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Rodney said. “We’re getting out of this room. Once out, I’m going to find Yvonne and you gentlemen are going to raise the alarm. There is something ugly going on here and Yvie is smack dab in the center of it.”
Rodney walked to the door.
“Get right behind me,” he said. “There’s no way to know what’s on the other side of this door.”
The men did what they were told. Rodney jammed the modified spoon handle into the lock and turned it. The knob twisted.
“Here we go.” Rodney pulled open the door.
Seeing no one, he took a step out of the room. Colin followed him. Once outside the room, the young agent seemed to regain his composure. Colin nodded to Rodney that he was ready.
“Is it clear?” the attorney asked.
Rodney nodded and the attorney left the room. As if he was escorting a prisoner, Colin grabbed Rodney’s arm and marched him in the direction of the lobby. The attorney followed close behind. They were almost to the lobby when a heavy set, middle aged police Captain stepped in front of them.
“Colin! Rodney!” the Captain said. “I didn’t know you were here.”
Rodney squinted at the man. He remembered meeting him at Seth’s house. He was . . .
“Oh come on, you remember me,” the man’s voice was jovial but his eyes shot sparks. “I’m Ferguson.”
Rodney nodded. He did remember the man. The Captain put his arm around Rodney’s shoulder and launched into a long story of the last time he’d been fishing. With Colin latched onto his other arm, and the attorney following close behind, the Captain maneuvered them through the station. When they reached the loading dock, the man stopped talking.
“Did you bring them?” Ferg asked.
Rodney nodded.
“Originals?”
“Copies,” Rodney said. “That woman Delphie told me to bring copies. I made them last night at Kinkos. My daughter was asleep in the car, but her husband came in with me. He can vouch for the photos.”
“And the originals?”
“Safe,” Rodney said.
“And Yvonne’s books?”
“More than safe,” Rodney said.
The big man took a digital recorder from his pocket.
“I just came on shift,” Ferg said. “I heard about your . . . situation in my shift change. My team and other cops, agents, good men, have been trying to get to you all morning. I was coming to get you.”
“Thanks,” Rodney said.
“You all right, Colin?” Ferg asked.
“Froze up,” Colin said. “Hasn’t happened in years but in that room . . . the hopelessness . . . We have a new baby and . . . ”
“It happens to all of us,” Rodney said. “Next time, it might be me.”
Colin nodded.
“I’m going to interview you here,” Ferg said. “Is that all right?”
Rodney nodded. Captain Ferguson turned on the digital recorder. He stated his name, the date, and who he was speaking with.
“Where did you get these photos?”
“Assistant District Attorney Aaron Alvin came to see me once a month the first few years I was in Canon City,” Rodney said.
“Why did Mr. Alvin visit you?”
“He wanted to let me know he was having sex with my wife,” Rodney said. “He described what he did in vivid details and brought these photos to prove what he said was true. I was in solitary confinement. They would cuff me, shackle me, and march me up to see him. He would tell me his sick stories and give me the images as something to think about. I went back to solitary.”
“With the images?”
“Yes,” Rodney said. “I sat in that cell all by myself with his pictures to look at.”
Colin made a sympathetic sound and Rodney’s head jerked to look at him.
“Why didn’t you refuse to see him?” Ferg asked.
“Because if I saw him, I got a phone call and my letters,” Rodney said. “Yvonne wrote to me every day. Sent pictures she drew of her life, of our daughter.”
“But you couldn’t have them in your cell.”
“No sir,” Rodney said. “Just the pictures he gave me. But I could hear her voice for a few minutes and read her letters. It was worth it to me.”
“You refused to see him after your call to her mother. Is that correct?”
Rodney gave the Captain a long look. Only a handful of people knew he called his mother-in-law to save Tanesha. The Captain nodded toward the tape.
“He gave me a photo of him with my daughter,” Rodney said. “He wanted me to hurt. I hurt. He wanted me to be angry. I was angry. He wanted me to be helpless. I was helpless. He’d even stopped Yvie from writing to me, no phone call either. He wanted to defeat me, but as long as I draw breath, I will not be defeated by that man. I used my last call to speak to my mother-in-law. She spoke to my friend Dr. Bumpy Wilson. He arranged for a friend of his to keep an eye out for Yvie and my baby. His friend was able to get my wife and daughter away from Alvin. But . . . my daughter, Tanesha, she wasn’t safe from him and Yvie, she . . . made some arrangement to keep Tanesha safe. She sacrificed herself to keep my baby away from that man.”
“But your wife?”
“She remained trapped in his web,” he said. “She told me this morning that she focused every single day on survival. She knew in her heart we’d be together again; she’d be happy again. So she survived one day and then the next, adding one day onto another until the years passed.”
Rodney wiped his eyes.
“She’s much braver, stronger, than I,” he said.
“Did you ever have any indication that you were charged with the murder and rape of the young girl because Mr. Alvin wanted . . . your wife?”
“Yes sir,” Rodney said. “He told me so every time he came to see me.”
“Told you what?”
“That he rigged the trial, paid off a couple of jurors to get the guilty verdict so that I would go to prison for . . . what happened to that poor girl,” Rodney said. “The warden kept copies of the tapes of our interactions. Held them in case Alvin came after him. I got a letter, a year or so after I was out, from the warden; he’s retired now. He still has ‘em.”
The Captain turned off the recorder.
“Thank you,” the Captain said. “You didn’t have to come. You didn’t have to do this. It’s going to help.”
“What’s happening?” Colin asked.
“Alvin has already signed for immunity against the charges stemming from his prostitution business. He gave up the man who killed the women who lived in his building. The killer is in custody,” the Captain said.
“T
he killer he hired,” Colin said.
“He doesn’t tell it that way, nor does the suspect,” the Captain said. “The suspect says he had a beef with one of the girls and took it out on everyone.”
Not sure of what to say, Rodney shook his head.
“Gives you an idea of what you’re dealing with,” the Captain said. “Alvin’s being moved into witness protection right now. Some of his people have intercepted Yvonne. They hoped to keep you here long enough to move her.”
Rodney felt a wave of futility overcome him.
“Don’t worry,” Captain Ferguson said. “She’s in good hands. You were the one who was the hostage today. They’re going to talk about your escape for a long time to come. And this information?”
Captain Ferguson gave him a big smile.
“He didn’t get immunity from fixing a trial so he could get another man’s wife,” Captain Ferguson said. “You’d be surprised at how much evidence has turned up. Since he’s in Witness Protection, he may never go to trial. But he’s not going to live happily ever after either.”
“And Yvonne?”
“He’ll never see her again.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” Captain Ferguson said. “You ready to lead the charge?”
Captain Ferguson nodded toward Colin.
“You remember how to get to the meet up?”
Colin nodded.
“Better get going,” Captain Ferguson said.
Captain Ferguson turned in place and walked back into the station.
“I’m not leaving without Yvonne,” Rodney said.
“Our best chance of helping her is by getting to the meet up,” Colin said.
“He’s right,” the lawyer said. “The only reason they would have kept us in that room is if that’s where they wanted . . . no needed us to be stuck right there. We can do more if we’re out of here.”
Rodney thought for a moment. He looked from Colin to the lawyer and then nodded.
“Let’s go,” Colin said.
~~~~~~~~
Friday mid-day — 12:05 p.m.
“Delphie?” Her voice slurred by her wired jaw, Tanesha wasn’t sure if Dephie had heard her.
“Tanesha,” Delphie yelled into her cell phone.
“Are you yelling?” Tanesha asked. “Is everything all right?”
“Oh.” Delphie chuckled. “I always forget how these things work.”
“I thought I would call you first this time instead of . . . worrying,” Tanesha said. “Are my parents home yet?”
“No,” Delphie said.
“Are they in trouble?”
“At this moment?” Delphie sighed. “No.”
“But they’re going to be?”
“They might be,” Delphie said. “This is another one of those situations Tanesha where things can go one way or the other. Your mom and dad have roles to play here. They have to do their part. No one knows what will happen.”
“Oh,” Tanesha said.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s not what you want to hear.”
“Are they going to be all right?” Tanesha asked.
“I hope so,” Delphie said. “And you should too. Those words, the ones in a traditional marriage ceremony, ‘What the Goddess has joined together, let no man tear asunder.’ They fit for your parents. We must trust the Goddess to avenge their love.”
“Trust,” Tanesha said. “I’m not very good at that.”
“I know,” Delphie said. “Me too. Anyway, finish up. Jeraine will meet you at your last class. Try not to dilly dally and come straight to the Castle.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” Delphie sounded amazed. “Honestly, I don’t have any idea.”
“Sounds like things have turned for the better.”
“I think they have,” Delphie said. “Gosh, I need to get going. So much to do! See you soon.”
Tanesha looked at the phone when the woman hung up. Shaking her head slightly, she went to find a place to lie down before her next class.
Chapter Two Hundred and Fifteen
Yvonne
Friday mid-day — 12:05 p.m.
Yvonne looked up from her crocheting. She glanced at her lawyer and the agent standing near the door before turning her eyes on the young people in front of her. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been in this room, but she could tell that it had been a while. They were starting to get nervous. Something had slowed down the progress of their plan.
If she was going to get them out of here, she had to start now. It was time to work on her young captors.
She shifted to look at her lawyer. Samantha Hargreaves was beautiful and knew it. Yvonne remembered meeting her father and mother at a fundraiser when she was a secretary for the DA. This woman had clearly received the best from both of her parents – looks, smarts, strength. Yvonne could feel Samantha’s strength of will and her intelligence. And, while she looked very pregnant, Yvonne bet she was the kind of woman who looked farther along than she was. Like all newly pregnant women, Samantha kept touching her belly as if to say ‘My goodness, I’m big!’
“How far along are you, Ms. Hargreaves?” Yvonne kept her voice sweet and non-threatening. “You look like you’re due any day.”
Samantha looked up from the papers she was reading. She gave Yvonne a quick assessing look.
“Next week,” Samantha lied.
Yvonne could hear the lie but knew the young people would miss it.
“It’s very possible I might have the baby in this room,” Samantha looked at the young people.
“And the father?” Yvonne provoked the agent to see what he’d do. “I bet he’d be pretty mad if you had your baby without him.”
“Sperm donor,” Samantha said.
“It’s hard to find a good man,” Yvonne said.
She glanced at the handsome agent. He nodded to her as if he agreed with her. Something about the nod encouraged Yvonne to continue.
“Do you think you’ll have more children, Mrs. Smith?” Samantha asked.
“Can’t,” Yvonne said. “Mr. Alvin got so angry the first time he showed up and I was having my monthly. He beat me and had me anyway, hurt me so bad my keeper had to take me to some white doctor. He paid that doctor to take out my uterus right then and there so that Mr. Alvin wouldn’t be troubled by my monthly.”
“I thought he wanted you to have his child.”
“Oh no,” Yvonne chuckled. “That man would never let me have another child. No way. No how. A child would take away from the time I should spend with him. Such a needy man. Always wanted this or that, something special for this day or that day. After twenty years, you’d think he’d run out. But he always found another humiliating way to get his needs met.”
Still watching the young people, Yvonne turned her attention back to her crocheting. Her best chance was to turn the women to her side. She saw one of the women shift her head as if she was listening to them.
“I was only eighteen when I had Tanni,” Yvonne said.
“Eighteen?” Samantha asked.
“We got married young,” Yvonne said. “I guess I wasn’t yet twenty when Rodney was taken and Alvin forced himself on me the first time.”
“Sounds horrible.”
Yvonne calculated what story would wake up these girls. She couldn’t lie. They’d spot a lie. No, Yvonne had to tell the absolute truth, and not be a whiney victim, for these children to see that they were on the wrong side of this.
“The first time, second time, hundredth time – always horrible,” Yvonne said. “He had to break me down so that I would do what he wanted. Tanni was there. I feel the worst about that – the things he did to Tanni . . . ”
To Yvonne’s surprise, the young man looked up at her. Keeping her eyes on her crocheting, from the top of her eyes, she saw his face shift from passive to curious. One more step.
“He would trick me into thinking I’d gotten away,” Yvonne said. “I’d move to another motel or stay with a
friend. I thought I was safe, but if I left her for even a moment to use the toilet or get some ice or . . . He was there to hurt her. Every job I took, he’d find her while I worked. Got to the point that I had to choose – keep her safe or work. The worst thing was he told everyone, even my momma, that I wanted to be a prostitute, chose it.”
She gave an indignant snort and turned her full attention back to her crocheting. Time to back off a bit or they’d catch on to her game.
“He sure knew he had to break me down,” Yvonne said. “Growing up in Alabama, we saw it a lot. People break down cows or horses or . . . ”
“People,” the agent said. “I saw it done growing up in Queens. Break their will.”
“That’s exactly right,” Yvonne said. “Break them down; take away their will, so you can control them. A broken cow doesn’t give great milk, but she is passive. That’s what he wanted. Well, what he really wanted was for me to love him, but that wasn’t ever going to happen.”
Not wanting to push, she fell silent and focused on her crocheting.
~~~~~~~~
Friday mid-day — 12:45 p.m.
“Hi,” Jill said when Jacob came into the loft. She’d been reading by the gas fireplace in their living area. “What are you doing home?”
“Making sure you didn’t run off with some prince,” he smiled and she laughed.
“Would you like lunch?” She got up to hug him. He kissed her and they held each other. “Lunch?”
“Sure.”
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“Oh right,” Jacob smiled. “You wipe every thought from my head.”
She smiled and walked to the kitchen.
“The stained glass guy left a message saying the windows were done,” Jacob said.
“Jim?” Jill asked. “I didn’t know we had any orders out with him.”
“That’s what I said when I called him back,” Jacob said. “It’s for the chapel.”
“The chapel?” Jill asked. “Wow, I forgot all about it.”
“Me too,” he said. “I mean, it’s gone back together one tiny piece at a time.
“Floors, walls, light fixtures . . . ” Jill counted on her hands. “Wow, I guess you’re right. I guess I thought you had more to do there.”
Gold Hill Page 30
