by Deja King
I woke up ready for war. Besides the heat I would be packing, my most powerful ammunition was the address I found in Vernika's purse. How the piece of paper was all neatly tucked away in Vernika's purse, I knew it meant that shit was important. And besides doing Mike's dirty work, what else could've been that significant in her life? With the address now in my pocket for safe keeping, I laced up my Timberland boots, anxious to hit the streets. "Baby, where you off to dressed in gear more suitable for the hoods in New York?" Supreme asked, standing in the entrance of our bedroom door. "I have a few things to take care of, that's all." I kept it real nonchalant so he wouldn't start with the interrogation. "This early in the morning, what you gotta do?" I guess I wasn't nonchalant enough, because here he was with the next question. "Ms. Duncan's leaving today so I wanted to tell her bye before she left. I need to pick up some clothes from the cleaners that's way overdue... you know, take care of shit like that. I mean is that a problem?" "No, I was just hoping maybe I could go out and have a nice breakfast with my wife. With all the bullshit going on, we haven't had much alone time. I think we need to reconnect." "I feel you on that, Supreme, but until we bring Aaliyah home I think we got bigger problems than reconnecting." "That's not what I'm saying. I know having breakfast in a restaurant ain't gon' change our circumstances, but at least it will make me feel as if we still united. I've lost my daughter, but I don't want to lose my wife too." "Supreme, don't say no shit like that. We ain't lost Aaliyah," I said, rising up from the chaise. "You talking as if all hope is lost in bringing our daughter home, and that's some bullshit." I was now within spitting range of Supreme, ready to stick my Timberland boot up his ass for even insinuating that my baby was gone forever. "Precious, I give you my word I didn't mean it like that." Supreme held on to my hands with a firm grip as he continued. "What I said came out wrong. On everything I love, I know we bringing our baby home but I'm talking right now in the present tense and what the situation is at this moment. At this very second we have lost our daughter, and I'm only trying to hold on to you as tightly as possible, because until we bring her home, you're all I have. Believe it or not, your presence is giving me the strength to get up every morning and fight this shit without losing my mind." Ring... ring... ring... Supreme's cell phone went off before I had a chance to respond to what he said, but that was a good thing because I really didn't know what my comeback would be. "Hello... What...? How the fuck that happen...? Stay right there, I'm on my way," Supreme said, and flipped his cell shut. "Who was that? What happened?" I questioned, perplexed by Supreme's agitation after his phone call. He ignored me and damn near sprinted to his walk-in closet to a safe that used a fingerprint scan for access. He pulled out two weapons from his arsenal of guns, and had "I'm on a mission, so move the fuck outta the way" etched on his face. "Supreme, where are you going? And don't ignore me." "Some shit went down at the spot where Donnell is holed up and I have to go handle it." "Fuck that, I'm coming with you," I said, grabbing my belongings, ready to be all up in the mix. "Let me handle this. You go do whatever you had planned this morning and I'll hit you later on." "You can either let me come with you or I'ma find my own way. But regardless, I will be knee-deep in this shit." From the keen expression on my face, Supreme knew I was not budging and he wouldn't win this argument. "I don't have time to debate this shit with you, so come on."
When Supreme pulled up to the small one-story brick house nestled in the cut, I wondered how he ever found this spot. During the drive, he took so many crazy-ass turns that I couldn't remember how the fuck we got here, or even what part of LA we were in. Not once during the ride did Supreme tell me what had gone down at this hideout, but from how quickly he put the Range in park and jumped out the driver's side, I knew it was some heavy shit. "Damn, can I at least get out the passenger side before you jet off?" "You the one who was dying to be shotgun, so keep up," Supreme cracked, not breaking his stride. I stepped up my pace, sizing up my surroundings at the same time. Nothing in the desolate area stood out. There weren't even any houses nearby. The only neighbors on either side were dirt and grass. "I see why you got Donnell stored in here. I mean can't nobody see or hear shit in this fucking area," I said as I finally caught up to Supreme. As we walked up the long dirt walkway, two of his watchdogs were standing outside the front door, waiting. "Now what the fuck happened?" Supreme said, brushing past the two armed guards dressed in the prerequisite all black uniform. "We don't know how this shit happened. We pulled up about an hour ago to relieve Chris from the night shift, and this what we found." When we walked into the open space, my eyes immediately darted to the blood splatter that greeted us on the far wall directly in our line of vision. A man was tied up in a chair with his arms cuffed behind his back and ankles chained. His one-time white wife beater was now crimson red from the bullet that penetrated his chest. But wanting to guarantee that all life was ceased, the shooter put one shot through the head, spraying brain tissue on the walls. "Let me guess. The dead man is Donnell Graham." Three pairs of eyes leered at me with disdain, as if I had been the one who had infiltrated their secret operation. "Where's Chris?" Supreme asked, waiting for the two men to lead the way. They guided us to a bathroom in the hallway. When one of them pushed opened the door, Chris was sitting on the toilet holding a trashy magazine with big booty chicks spreading they're shit in all sorts of creative positions. I hoped he was able to get his shit off and bust a nut before the shooter put that ass to sleep with the clear shot through the mouth. "Fuck!" Supreme belted, damn near leaving a hole in the bathroom wall from a potent punch. "I can't believe this shit. How the fuck did someone get up in here and take out Chris and that piece of shit?" "We trying to figure that shit out too. We talked to Chris about one in the morning and everything was cool." "Why was he here by himself with no backup?" "The last few nights Devon was sharing the nightshift with Chris after you took him off of driving duty. Then a couple of days ago, Chris started letting Devon leave a little after midnight, saying there was no sense in both of them staying all night." "What?" Supreme stormed out of the bathroom agitated. The watchdogs were a step behind, trying to explain how the shit got all fucked up, leaving his top man and his potential informant deceased. "Chris felt he could hold down the late night shift on his own. He said they didn't need two bodies to watch a chained man sleep all night. I guess he was wrong." "Yeah, Einstein, I guess so. Has either of you spoken to Devon?" Supreme questioned, shaking his head in fiustration. "No. We've been calling him since we got here, but his phone keeps going straight to voicemail. I even called his crib, but no answer." "That shit don't make no sense. Everybody knows they supposed to be available at all times. Send one of the men to his crib and find out what the fuck is going on. I hope whoever did this ain't got Devon tied up some fuckin' where. A crew of niggas coulda ran up in here for all we know. But how in the hell did they find this spot?" "Yeah, that's what I want to know, `cause ain't nobody accidentally running up on this joint. You need some serious assistance finding it. My brain damn near turned to mush trying to remember all the twists and turns you took getting here. The shooter had some help... an inside job kind," I added. The hired goons instantly went on the defense. "Supreme, we ain't have nothing to do with this. Chris was our boss and we followed his orders." "No, motherfuckers, I'm your boss. Nobody should've been working this shift alone without clearing it with me first. I don't give a fuck what Chris told you. Now look, that nigga's dead, Devon's MIA, and we lost our only link to finding Mike. I pay ya niggas top dollar to fuckin' babysit and you can't even do that shit properly. What the fuck is this world coming to when grown-ass men with guns can't even keep a chained down nigga in a chair alive? Fuck!" There was nothing more pathetic then watching two big-ass burly niggas sulking in the corner like scorned bitches. I wanted to tell them clowns to man-up, but it wouldn't have changed the grim circumstances. "Listen, get this shit wrapped. Call in the cleaning crew and have these bodies disposed of. You know what else to do," Supreme stated, shooing his measly workers a
long with repulsion. "Then get everybody together, because we having a meeting tonight at the other spot to discuss the ramifications from this bullshit operation you niggas fucked up." I stood in the back listening as Supreme gave his orders. For the first time I saw him in a completely different light. It was a bombshell to come to grips with the fact that Supreme was a killer just like Nico, Mike and me. He ordered his men to call in a cleaning crew with such ease that this clearly wasn't the first or even the second time he'd done so. His request was as second nature to them as pulling out their dick and taking a piss. How did I miss this about my husband? I always saw him as some dude from the hood that made good by breaking into the music industry. Never a cold-blooded killer who could dispose of bodies the way the average person tosses out trash. In my mind, Supreme was different from me. He didn't share the darkness that loomed over me. When he turned to kill-or-be-killed tactics, I assumed his survival instincts had kicked in and he was trying to save and protect his family. I didn't doubt that was the driving force behind this particular situation, but what about the ones I knew nothing about? And something told me there were many. My mind then jumped to Nico and the hit Supreme had put out on him. Even with that, I felt there was some sort of reasonable explanation. Maybe Supreme never forgave Nico for shooting me and killing the child I was carrying, and he wanted retribution. I had to give my husband the benefit of the doubt. Although I wanted Nico alive, Supreme had to feel justified in wanting him dead. "Let's go," I heard Supreme say, snapping me out of the distant places my mind had gone. It was then I noticed the watchdogs conducting business on their BlackBerry's, no doubt executing the orders from their boss. When we got outside, I reached my hand out to Supreme. I wanted to feel if there was any warmth left in him. It was strange because I felt as if I no longer knew the man I was married to, but at the same time he was still my husband and I yearned to connect with him. That's why what flowed from my lips next seemed necessary. "Baby, I think we might have one more lead that can put us back on Mike's trail," I said, sliding my fingers in the grasp of his hands. Originally, I was going to follow this probable come-up on my own, but this was the way to reconnect with Supreme. I did, however, need to pretend that I wasn't confident with the lead so he wouldn't catch on that only in the last thirty seconds I decided to bring him in on my undertaking. "I could be wrong and it might lead to nothing, but of course I wanted to share it with you." "What lead? The two leads we had are dead and ain't no bringing them back." "But sometimes even the dead find ways of speaking to you." I reached in my pocket and took out the piece of paper and handed it to Supreme. "What are you giving me this for?" "Open it." Supreme stopped a few feet away from his Range Rover and unfolded the yellow paper. He stared down for a second and looked back up at me. "Okay, this is the address to..." "This morning I was going through Vernika's purse and I found that paper tucked away real discreet. At first I didn't think anything of it, but maybe it's a secret location that Mike gave her." I had to switch up the time that I found the paper, because Supreme would be ready to get up in my ass for the delay in bringing it to his attention. "This morning? But that shit went down with Vernika a few days ago. Why are you just now giving me this?" "With Ms. Duncan and the church conference and all the other bullshit, I didn't have time to go through her purse until this morning." "Oh, now I get it. So when you were lacing up those Timbs," he said, pointing down to my boots, "Like you was going to rumble through the jungle, tracking down this address was the real errand you were running." "No. I was already planning on hitting the street to run some errands. While I was getting dressed I remembered that I had Vernika's purse and I searched through it. I came across the piece of paper, glanced at it for a minute and put it in my pocket. Honestly, I didn't think anything of it. I was gonna tell you about it, but at that moment it wasn't that deep to me." "So at what point did it become deep enough that you opted to let me know about it?" "When we were in the house and you were chewing out them silly niggas in there, I put my hands in my pockets, felt this piece of paper and remembered this fucking address. With the dude, Donnell dead and all our leads dried up, although a crap-shoot, I figured it might lead to something." I paused for a second before continuing, trying to determine if Supreme believed my half-ass story. He was biting down on his lip, which wasn't an encouraging sign, but I thought, Fuck it, and kept it going. "Listen, don't be mad. I've had so much shit on my mind that I got caught slipping. I shoulda been more focused and got on top of this a few days ago. But, baby, you know how stressed I been and I'm doing the best I can." I put my head down and let out a tender sigh, hoping to soften Supreme up. "All I'm saying is with all this shit going on you can't let shit slip like this. Time is of the essence right now. From now on, if you come across any information, I don't care how bogus you think it might be, you bring that shit to me, understand?" "I got you." "Cool. Now let's go check this shit out. I'ma have a couple of my men meet us over there just in case we might need backup. I got a nine millimeter in the center console. You know how to work that?" Supreme lifted his chin up in my direction in anticipation of my response. "Don't play, you already know I get down for mines." I slammed the passenger door, feeling like Bonnie to my nigga's Clyde. "Precious, that ain't for you to play with," Supreme said, pressing down on the gas and driving off. "I don't know what we about to walk up in, so I want you to have some protection since we both know you ain't gon' sit yo' ass still." "I'm not gonna fuck this up. I'll follow your lead." I sat back in the seat and closed my eyes. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something. It was as if all the answers to my questions were neatly compiled in a sealed envelope waiting for me to open. But I kept losing track of the envelope's location. I wasn't focusing my attention on the right person who had all the answers to my questions. Different faces kept flashing in my head: Supreme, Maya, Clip, Nico, Devon, Ms. Duncan, Ricky, Anna, Detective Moore, even the dead, Vernika and Donnell. With everything inside of me, I believed one or more of these people knew all the moves Mike was making. I couldn't believe I threw my husband in the batch, but this was my daughter, and at this point I was looking at everybody cross-eyed. In my mind I revisited past conversations with each of them and tried to determine if there were any underlying messages that I was missing. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed that kidnapping Aaliyah wasn't Mike's ultimate goal. He had a much more sinister objective in mind, but what? Mike was a crazy motherfucka and there was no telling what lengths he would go to for revenge. "Precious... Precious... Precious," I heard my name being called and then a forceful arm shaking me. I shook my head, opening my eyes. "What the fuck, did you fall asleep?" Supreme asked, turning off the ignition. "I must've dozed off." I looked around and saw we were in an upscale apartment complex. "Where are we?" "In Sherman Oaks, California." "Could this be where Aaliyah has been all this time?" I wondered, sharing my thoughts out loud. "Anything's possible, but that shit would be crazy, because she would've been right under our noses. But then again, how would we know that? I guess it's pretty easy to have a baby under wraps if you keep them indoors. But we might be getting way ahead of ourselves. This could be someplace a nigga that chick Vernika was creeping with stay at." "True, but only one way to find out. Do you know the building number?" "The apartment number is 6248, so I'm assuming it is building number six. Hold on a minute, let me call and see where the two men I told to meet us here are at." While Supreme made his phone call, I scanned the place seeing if anything struck me as odd-a vehicle, person-anything. Nothing popped out, but I definitely didn't think this was a meeting spot for Vernika and some jumpoff. "Let's go. They're going to meet us in front of the apartment building," Supreme said, getting out of the Range. I opened the center console and grabbed the nine, making sure I was strapped for the unexpected. When we got to the lower level of building six, Supreme saw the apartment wasn't on that floor, so our legs swiftly made there way up their stairs. It wasn't until we'd gone through the entire flight of stairs and reached the very top that we found the ap
artment number, and standing against the wall waiting for us were Supreme's two men. "It's about fucking time," I said, gasping for air. I knew I needed to hit the gym and start doing some cardio if I was tired from running up some damn stairs. "Did you guys hear any activity going on in there?" Supreme asked the men leaning up against the door. "No," one of the men answered. I was noticing a pattern with Supreme's hired help. They all looked the fucking same: tall, black and muscular. I didn't understand how he could tell them apart, especially since their entire outfits were identical. "Precious, you stand off to the side. I'ma knock on the door and wait a few to see if anyone answers. If don't nobody speak up or show their face, we busting the door down," Supreme directed. I stood off to the side, hoping that no one would come out their apartment or pop up on the scene, interrupting us. It was a weekday in the middle of the afternoon, so most people were probably at work, but I didn't want any surprises. More importantly, I didn't want the police being called before we got the first crack at inspecting the apartment for clues. Supreme knocked at the door and paused for a few seconds, then knocked again. "I don't hear shit in there." He turned to one of his men. "Yo, bust this shit open." The man pulled out his gun with the silencer already attached and busted off two shots at the door lock, so he basically had to tap it for the shit to open. When we stepped inside the place, it smelled of Linen & Sky Febreeze Air. The entrance opened into a living room with a butter-cream leather sofa set adorning the hardwood floor. An oval-shaped glass coffee table mounted on ivory stone rocks sat in the center, with magazines and books neatly stacked on top. Then, there it was, nestled in the far left-hand corner. A playpen. The first sign that a baby had been here-possibly mine. Supreme's men made there way down the hallway to check the bedrooms, and I went over to the playpen, touching, looking and even trying to smell the scent of my Aaliyah. "Supreme, I think you should come take a look at this," one of his men called out from the back. While Supreme went to the back, I searched the kitchen and opened the cabinets to cans of Similac and baby bottles. The refrigerator had jars of baby food. "Supreme, a baby is definitely residing here," I said, walking down the hall to the bedroom Supreme was in. My mouth dropped at the pink paradise. The crib, dresser, changing table, rocking chair were all white with cotton candy colored walls and accessories. I went to the crib and rubbed my hands on the fitted sheets and picked up a cotton stuffed toy rabbit lying flat on the firm mattress. I then opened up the dresser drawers and found pull-on pants, coverall sets and socks. I held on to a floral print onesie and brushed it against my nose. It smelled of fresh baby detergent. "Precious, no doubt a baby lives here, but we don't know if it's Aaliyah," Supreme reminded me, noticing that I was becoming lost in a world that might have not been that of my daughter. "I know, but this can't be a coincidence. The sizes of these clothes would fit Aaliyah perfectly." "That's not enough to convince me. We need more." "I think we just found it," I said, staring at the rocking chair. I swallowed hard not wanting to get too excited. "What ...what did you find?" Supreme came closer to me, wanting to know what had me so transfixed. I took a few steps closer to the rocking chair and gently grabbed the light-pink crochet trimmed cashmere blanket draped over the armrest. I turned over to the inside, and there lay the proof. Aaliyah's name was embroidered in the corner. "This is the blanket Anna got. She always kept it with Aaliyah even when it was fucking hot outside." Supreme grabbed the blanket from me, scrutinizing the validity of what I was saying. "I remember this blanket," he said, covering his face with it. For a moment I thought he was about to break down and cry. He stood there silent; the only thing I could hear was his heavy breathing. "Were you all able to find anything else?" he asked the men, finally coming up for air. "There were a few clothes hanging in the closet and in the drawers... and this," the man said, handing Supreme a picture. "Maybe that's who the clothes belong to." I instantly recognized the woman in the picture. "That's Destiny!" I squealed with repulsion. "She do look mad familiar. Who the fuck is she and how you know her?" Supreme was dumbfounded. "That's Destiny, the video chick that me and Maya caught Clip fucking around with." "This is Clip's ho right here?" Supreme threw down the picture and balled up his fist. "Let me find out this nigga really got something to do with this bullshit!" I picked the picture off the floor and stared at it again. Destiny was cheesed up, sitting on what appeared to be the same couch in the living room. Supreme pulled out his cell. "Who you calling?" "That nigga, Clip. Fuck! He ain't picking up. Don't nobody want to answer they fuckin' phones today." "Do you really think it's a good idea to confront Clip over the phone? Wouldn't it be better to see him face to face so he can't get slick and escape from us? More importantly, get ghost and not tell us where Aaliyah is? We don't need to fuck up anymore links to Mike," I contended. This was the first time since the nightmare begun that I truly felt we were close to bringing Aaliyah home, and I didn't want a hot tempered Supreme messing it up by alerting Clip over the phone that we were on to him. "Let me put in a call to Maya just so we can see where Clip's at. Then we'll go to him. From there, I don't care if you hang that nigga upside down by his dick as long as he gets to telling us what we need to know. Clip's a soft nigga. He ain't gonna try to be no soldier like that cat, Donnell." "You call Maya, and I want both of you to keep post right outside this apartment," Supreme said, pointing to his men in black. I have a feeling ain't nobody coming back to this crib, but it's best to be careful." "Do you believe we should get Detective Moore involved? I mean he could get access from the leasing office that could be extremely helpful. Like who's name the apartment's in, who's paying the rent, bank information... just shit that they not gonna voluntarily tell us." "You might be right, Precious. I'll give Detective Moore a call after we've gone over every nook and cranny and I feel satisfied we've obtained all the pertinent information we can get." While Supreme and his men began rummaging through every inch of the apartment, I placed my call to Maya. She wasn't answering her phone either, and after the tenth try I decided to leave a message. "Hey Maya, this is Precious. Listen, umm, I need for you to hit me back as soon as you get this message. An emergency came up and I need your assistance, so get back to me ASAP." After leaving the message on her cell, I called the crib and got nothing but the answering machine. I opted not to leave a message there not wanting to take any chances of raising suspicion with Clip. "Were you able to get in touch with Maya?" Supreme asked, taking a break from his search. "No, she's not answering her phone. It's like everybody's ghost today. This shit is crazy." "Crazy don't begin to describe it." "Did you find anything else?" "Not really. Besides the clothes, there was a couple pair of shoes, toothpaste and bullshit like that." "Where did homeboy find that picture of Destiny?" "Inside one of the books that was in the drawer next to the bed. The broad was probably rushing so fast to break the fuck out and forgot she even left her picture there" "Her forgetfulness is our gain. Shit, because without that picture of Destiny, there wouldn't have been anything to connect Clip. I want to get my hands on that trick so bad. I wish I had her fucking number. Besides Clip, do you know anybody else who might have an address or contact information on Destiny?" "I'm already on it. I put in a call to my secretary to get in touch with the agent who cast the video to see if they had her shit on file. I'm waiting for her to get back to me now." "Yeah, but we need Clip. That nigga is the one who got the answers. I doubt that simple-ass chick, Destiny knows a damn thing of real importance, like where the hell Aaliyah is at right now. Honestly, I just want an opportunity to beat her ass for being in the same crib my daughter was held captive at." "Hold up, this my secretary now," he informed me before answering the call. "Hey Stacy, what did you find out for me?" While Supreme was digging for feedback, I sat down on the loveseat, thinking back to that day Maya and I caught Destiny's trifling ass in bed with Clip. Damn, I wish I would've let Maya beat that ho down. Shit, I should've put my foot up her ass too. I'm trying to play nice with the trick and she was probably sitting up in this very spot sharing space with my child. Did Clip clue the silly t
rick in on the fact that the baby was that of Supreme's, or was she so stupid that she ran with whatever half-ass story he gave her? I guess we won't find that out until we found the tramp. "What did she say?" I asked when I saw Supreme hang up his phone. "Not shit worthwhile. The address the casting agent has is a P.O. Box, and the number is one of those voicemail phone services." "Fuck! It's like we keep hitting one brick wall after another." "Who you telling? Shit, we don't even know how long ago whoever was staying here bounced." "Yeah, but it couldn't have been that long ago, because besides the baby food jars, there was some leftover meatloaf in there, and a carton of milk that hasn't even been opened yet." "Shit, we're just one step behind them then." "I bet they bounced when they got word that Donnell had been jacked and Vernika was dead. Mike prob ably wasn't a hundred percent positive whether Donnell would roll over and start snitching or what else we would find out, so to be on the safe side he probably cleared house." Supreme sat down next to me nodding his head. "That's logical. Not knowing exactly how much time he had on his hands, he probably decided not to fuck with the rest of the shit in the crib and just clear out where he was laying his head, not wanting to leave any direct evidence to him." "So you think Mike was living here too? That nigga got balls." "It would make sense. But he definitely had someone else with him, because he couldn't go outside or show his face and take a chance someone would recognize him." "That someone else had to be Destiny. I mean, why else would there be women's clothes, shoes and shit, and that picture of her?" I reasoned. "Destiny fucking Mike and Clip, it's plausible. They got their shared whore maintaining shit for them and carrying out baby duty." "If she was fucking Mike in this crib, then she had to know he kidnapped Aaliyah. Damn, I wish I would've let Maya beat her ass and put in a couple of licks of my own. So what's next?" "Besides the few items we found, the search of this place has come up empty so I think I'ma go ahead and place that call to Detective Moore. If I do it now while it's still business hours, he should be able to find out some viable information." "Cool. While you stay here and wait for the detective, I want to take your car and drive by a couple of spots and see if I can locate Maya." "I don't know about that. I think maybe we need to stick together." "Supreme, there is no sense in both of us sitting here waiting for Detective Moore. We need to make the most out of all the time we have. While you're here, I might be able to find Maya and she could tell me where Clip is, but we know that's not going to happen with both of us sitting here. She's not answering her phone, and Maya is good for leaving that shit someplace, so she might not even have it with her." Supreme kept shaking his head, not convinced that us going our separate ways was the answer. "Listen, if I get in touch with Maya and she tells me where Clip is, I promise I'll call you before making a move." "Precious, I don't want you to even tell Maya what we've found out until we get our hands on Clip. I know that's your girl, but she's still in love with that nigga. When I left a message for Clip, I told him it was important for him to get in touch with me over some music shit. That's the same line I want you to run on Maya." "I can do that." "But don't confront that nigga without me. He evidently ain't the loyal cat I pegged him to be, so ain't no telling what he's capable of." "If I'm able to get in touch with Maya and I find out anything, you're the first call I'll make. But make sure you hit me too if you come across any new leads." "No doubt. But Precious, please be careful and don't try to be no hero. Our main objective is to bring our daughter home. One wrong move can fuck all that up." I digested what Supreme said as I took the car keys from him. The comment he made about the one wrong move kept ringing in my ear. We were so close to putting the pieces to this puzzle together that making the wrong move was what I wanted to avoid at all costs. WHO SHOT YA
