Jack saw the determined set of her chin. “Okay,” he sighed. “But you can’t go alone. You know you can never speak to a witness on your own, right?”
A prosecutor always needed an officer or someone with her to observe any conversation with a witness, in case the conversation came into dispute and someone had to testify about it later. Otherwise, the prosecutor might become a witness in her own case, and would have to recuse herself from it.
“Actually, I hadn’t thought of the funeral like a witness conference,” Anna admitted. “I wasn’t planning on bringing anyone else. But I’ll find an officer to go with me.”
“Bring McGee. And I’ll come, too.” Jack wasn’t letting her talk to witnesses without him, even at the funeral. Especially at the funeral, where emotions would be running high, and excited words might be exchanged.
Jack noted Anna gulping nervously. She didn’t want him to go, Jack surmised. She understood that Laprea’s family might yell at her, and although she was prepared to take it, she didn’t want Jack to see it. At least she knew what she was getting herself into, Jack thought. It took a certain amount of courage to walk into that situation.
“You came by at a good time,” Jack said, deciding to share some information with Anna. “I was just looking at the preliminary autopsy results.”
He pushed the report across the desk. Anna scanned the papers blankly. Jack had felt the same way the first time he’d tried to read an autopsy report. To a layman, it was incomprehensible, full of medical jargon.
“It takes a while to understand those,” he told her. “Cause of death is blunt force trauma to the skull. Laprea Johnson died of a single blow to the left side of her head with a hard object. Davis had to hit her with something harder than just his fists. Time of death is estimated at eleven thirty p.m. on Saturday, August sixteenth.”
Anna nodded. “But Ernie Jones saw Laprea and D’marco fighting around nine thirty that night.”
“The estimated time of death is just that—an estimate.” He wondered how often he would have to explain elementary things like this to the rookie prosecutor.
“Oh, okay.”
“They can tell from the blood pooling that the garbage dump behind D’marco’s building was not where she was actually murdered. Her body was placed there sometime after her death.”
Anna nodded. With the body wrapped in garbage bags, that had seemed obvious even before the autopsy report.
“The trace evidence unit vacuumed her body,” he continued. “There were a few hairs, but from an animal, nothing human. Probably a pet.”
“I don’t think the Johnson family has any pets. We didn’t see anything pet-related at D’marco’s place.”
Jack nodded noncomittally. “Maybe a wild animal or a stray, touching the corpse. There was one more thing,” he said. “Laprea Johnson was pregnant when she was murdered.”
Anna’s eyes got big, then closed in pain. “Oh no. Poor Laprea. Poor Rose.” Jack watched her with sympathy. The news had also hit him in the gut, compounding the scope of this tragedy. Anna finally opened her eyes and stared out the window. “Does D’marco know that he also killed his own baby?”
“Don’t know. They still haven’t caught him.”
“I see.” Anna blew out a breath and slumped back. She looked sick. “How pregnant was she?”
“Hm,” Jack said. He wasn’t sure. He flipped through the autopsy report. “Let’s see. Sixteen weeks.”
Anna looked down in concentration. “That would make the baby’s conception . . . in mid-April.” Surprised, she looked back up at Jack. “D’marco Davis was in jail awaiting his trial for the Valentine’s Day assault then.”
Jack rocked back. He hadn’t caught that. The girl might be a rookie, but she was sharp.
“Someone else fathered that baby,” he murmured.
“Who?”
He shook his head.
15
As they drove through Anacostia, Jack and McGee took turns pointing out landmarks from their prior cases. Anna listened from her usual position in the backseat. Their stories were completely incongruous with the sunny summer afternoon.
“See that community center?” McGee nodded at a low concrete building. “I had a case where this lady got jumped in that parking lot. They stuffed her in the trunk of her car, took her to Fort Dupont Park. Gang-raped her, beat her, left her for dead. She managed to crawl to a house.”
“Yeah, I heard about that,” Jack said. “What’d the ringleader get? Thirty years?”
“Life,” McGee said proudly.
Jack pointed to a park next to the community center. “My first AWIK happened there,” he said, referring to his first assault with intent to kill. “Father of four was mugged and beaten with a tire iron. He was a vegetable after that.”
“Mm.” McGee conveyed a lot of sympathy in a single low grumble. “Remember the Clarence case?”
“Sure.”
McGee looked at Anna in the rearview mirror. “Guy killed his baby mama and cut her heart out of her chest.” He pointed to a dirty brick apartment building.
“Yikes,” she said. So many grim landmarks. Once you were a prosecutor, how could you ever look at the city the same way again?
McGee slowed the car as they crested the top of a hill. Jack pointed out the side window. “Look,” he said to Anna. Her gaze followed his index finger. He was pointing toward a bare dirt lot littered with broken glass, used condoms, and needles. Beyond the lot was a postcard view of downtown Washington, D.C. The Capitol building, the Washington Monument, and the Lincoln Memorial stood like white model buildings on the green lawn of the National Mall. Anna could see the sprawling lawn of the White House, and the avenues of glittering office buildings surrounding it. It was an incredible view of the city where some of the most powerful people in America worked, where decisions that affected the entire world were made.
Then they were driving down the other side of the hill, and the view was blocked by boarded-up buildings again.
“I grew up a few blocks from here,” Jack said. “It hasn’t changed much.”
As they drove into the parking lot of Mt. Calvary First Baptist Church, Anna tugged uneasily at her skirt. She had managed to put aside her nervousness on the drive over, but now it hit her full-on. How badly would Rose lash out at Anna for her role in Laprea’s death? No matter how furious Rose was, Anna wouldn’t blame her. She felt that she deserved the full force of Rose’s wrath. But she also knew the only reason she was second chair on this case was because of her supposed relationship with the family. She wondered if Jack would use this as an excuse to get her kicked off the case.
As they walked into the church, they were surrounded by the thrum of hundreds of voices. The sanctuary was packed. People sat in the pews, stood in the aisles, jostled for space at the back. Men wore suits and ties; women mostly wore black dresses and black hats, although a few women were dressed in all white. Almost everyone was African-American; Anna’s was the only white face in the crowd. The sanctuary was large but simple, with a high ceiling, pure white walls, clear windows spaced at even intervals, and a big wooden cross at the front. Laprea’s shiny white casket was flanked by enormous bouquets of pink lilies at the front of the church.
“How do you want to do this?” Jack asked Anna loudly, raising his voice so he would be heard over the noise of the sanctuary.
“I want to find Rose.”
Jack and McGee exchanged a glance, but they followed Anna as she wended her way up the center aisle.
Rose was sitting in the front row, wearing a black dress and a hat with a black mesh veil. She was surrounded by women: standing in front of her, sitting beside her, crowded into the pew behind her. All the ladies were reaching out their arms to touch Rose while they murmured soothing words. Laprea’s mother was like the center of a flower, and her friends and relatives were the petals.
As Anna approached, one of the women noticed her and nudged the other women. The women murmured and then parted, creating a passagewa
y with a formidable wall of church ladies on either side. Anna stood looking at Rose, and Rose sat looking back at her. The rest of the church buzzed with conversation, but everyone around them was silent, watching the two women as they faced each other.
Anna thought she was ready for anything that Laprea’s mother could dish out. But Rose greeted her in a way Anna was not prepared for. She stood up, walked over to Anna, and stood in front of her. Then she raised her arms and pulled Anna into a tight, cushiony hug. Her arms were warm and soft. Anna felt a rush of sorrow—and relief. Her eyes stung with tears as Rose held her, just as Anna had held Laprea in the Papering Room only six months before. Rose started crying, too. Rose’s friends let out a collective sigh and closed in again, but now Anna felt their hands on her back, too, their voices soothing her as well as Rose. Jack and McGee stood awkwardly to the side, hands in their pockets, looking down at their feet as the women embraced in shared grief. Finally, Rose patted Anna’s shoulders and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. She dabbed at Anna’s wet cheeks before wiping her own.
“Here, sugar, sit down.” Rose steered Anna to the pew, where they sat side by side.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Johnson,” Anna said, sniffling softly.
“Ain’t nothing for you to be sorry about.” Rose patted Anna’s hands. “This’s been building for years and years. You the only one ever came close to stopping it.”
“I wish I’d done a better job.”
“No use blaming yourself. Only one to blame’s D’marco Davis.”
“We’re going to get him, Ms. Johnson, I promise you.”
“Thank you,” Rose said simply. She smiled at Anna through her tears. “It means so much to me that you’re here.”
“Of course.” Anna introduced Rose to Jack and Detective McGee.
“I’m sorry I can’t really talk to you now,” Rose said. “But I do want to hear how the investigation’s going. Could you come to my house next week?”
“How about Monday afternoon?” Anna glanced at Jack. He nodded, and they chose a time. Rose gave her a final hug. As Anna walked away, the church ladies enfolded Rose again.
McGee pointed to some free seats and the three of them slid in. After a few minutes, the service started with the choir launching into “I’ll Fly Away.”
The pastor stepped forward and raised his arms. “We’re here today to celebrate the homegoing of Laprea Keisha Johnson!” he proclaimed.
“Hallelujah!” the crowd roared back.
There was an inescapable grief underlying the entire service, but the gathering was not about grieving. The congregants were there to celebrate the life of the woman they loved, and to rejoice in their faith that she had gone home to join her Father and Creator.
Anna thought about her own mother’s funeral, so different in tone from this one. She closed her eyes. Feeling the wooden bench pressing against her shoulder blades, she mused that the bench in that church in Michigan had felt exactly the same. She had been in law school when she’d gotten the terrible phone call from Jody. Her mother had died in a car accident, hit by a drunk driver who’d sped through a red light. The tragedy had knocked the breath out of Anna, but even as she’d sat crying in the corner of her dorm room, and then at her mother’s church, Anna knew that, in some ways, she had gotten more than she had a right to expect. Those last twelve years with her mother, away from her father and his raging violence. Twelve good years, free of fear and pain.
But what Anna had done to get those years was unthinkable. Unforgivable.
She opened her eyes as a woman in front of her stood up spontaneously, raised her arms, and called, “Amen, brother!”
Anna liked this service. Although her mother’s death had been the result of an accident rather than human malice, the funeral at her Lutheran church had been more somber than this one. Anna remembered the strained, tight faces of everyone who came to pay their respects, the prescripted call and response they intoned with gray, obligatory inflection. This felt better, she thought. It was a positive and personal affirmation that their loved one was now in a better place.
She wondered what Nick would think—and then realized that she wouldn’t be able to talk to him about it, not later tonight, probably not ever. She had experienced jolts like this over the last several days. As this one passed, Anna leaned back on the wooden bench and exhaled deeply. Despite missing Nick, she felt a small but real sense of peace for the first time since Laprea’s death. Rose’s forgiveness had given her that. If they could just catch D’marco, she thought.
He was closer than she would have imagined. On the street in front of the church, D’marco Davis sat in the eleven-year-old Toyota Corolla he’d chosen to steal because it had dark-tinted windows. A screwdriver was still punched into the ignition. He reclined in the driver’s seat and watched the church, as he had all morning, noting who was coming and going. A small bottle of Wild Turkey sat beside him; it was still mostly full. He wasn’t far enough into it yet to do anything foolish. He was still in control. He sat quietly, patiently, biding his time.
• • •
D’marco was still driving the Corolla with the tinted windows three days later. He was sober when he turned the car into the alleyway behind Rose’s house. With some effort, he had restrained from drinking this afternoon. He would need to think clearly for what he was about to do.
He drove down the alley, a narrow concrete drive bordered by the backs of row houses and their fenced yards. It was a quiet, hazy summer afternoon, and no one was out. A dog barked in the distance, but no human seemed to notice D’marco parking the stolen car a few houses before Rose’s yard. He pulled the long black screwdriver out of the ignition and put it into the pocket of his baggy jeans. A wall of humid heat hit him as soon as he climbed out of the car. The buzzing thrum of insects was all around.
D’marco shut the door quietly and walked to Rose’s chain-link fence. He could see Dameka and D’montrae playing on the back porch. Rose would be inside, making dinner or talking on the phone. D’marco took a deep breath. He had to do this.
He climbed over the fence, landed softly in Rose’s grass, and crept stealthily to the screened porch. The twins were pushing Matchbox cars around a curving track, narrating a car chase. Rose wouldn’t let them play Grand Theft Auto on the Xbox; she thought it was too violent. This was the closest they could get.
“D’montrae,” he called softly. “C’mere. Quiet now.” The little boy turned toward the sound of his father’s voice.
“Daddy!” he cried, running over to him.
“Shhh,” D’marco said, putting his fingers to his lips. Dameka ran over, too, and they both knelt down to their father. The porch was chest-high on D’marco. He reached up so that his hands were pressing theirs through the screen. He could feel the warmth of their little fingers through the mesh. “Quiet,” he whispered.
“Why quiet, Daddy?” Dameka whispered back.
He paused, waiting to see if Rose would come to the window at the back of her kitchen, or whether the door leading from the porch into the kitchen would open. Nothing happened.
“It’s a surprise,” he said softly. After another minute, D’marco climbed up the steps and opened the screen door quietly. Keeping low, he crept to the back corner, where Rose could not see him from inside. He crouched in the corner, then waved the children over. They ran to him, their faces full of delight at this game, their eyes unclouded by fear or apprehension. They were just glad to see their father. They had heard whispers about their mother’s death, but people had been discreet; the twins did not yet understand the role their father had played in it.
As D’marco knelt in the corner, they pressed into either side of him, throwing their little arms around his neck. Dameka was leaning on his leg, pressing against the pocket where he had stashed the screwdriver. He could feel the tool digging into his thigh. He pulled her closer.
“How’s my li’l boo?” he asked softly.
“Oh, Daddy—” she started to launch i
nto a story, but then he heard the doorbell ring inside the house.
“Shh,” he said again, putting his finger to her mouth. He pulled the twins tighter to him so they would be still.
He could hear Rose greeting someone at the door. He heard footsteps coming into the house, and a few people’s voices. He remained crouching with the children for a moment, considering his options. He hadn’t counted on anyone else being there. Keeping his hands on the children’s heads, D’marco slowly stood up and peered over the ledge of the kitchen window. There were bars over the window, but the window itself was open, allowing a breeze into the house through the screen. He could hear the voices inside.
“Thank you so much for inviting us over today,” a woman was saying.
“Of course,” Rose replied. “Thank you for coming.”
If he squinted, D’marco could see through the screen into the house. Beyond the kitchen, Rose was sitting on the couch in her living room. A young white woman sat next to her. D’marco couldn’t see the rest of the people in the house, but he heard male voices, too; apparently, some men were sitting in chairs outside of his sight line. It took D’marco a moment to recognize the woman as the prosecutor who had tried to convict him last time.
D’marco quickly squatted down again. His breath was fast and shallow, and his hands suddenly felt moist. He gripped the screwdriver in his pocket for reassurance. After a moment, he realized that this could be an opportunity for him. He smiled at the twins.
“Shh,” he whispered.
16
They all sat in Rose’s living room, Anna next to Rose on the couch, Jack and Officer Brad Green in chairs flanking the coffee table. Jack had asked Green to come with them today instead of McGee, telling Anna that Rose might feel more comfortable with an officer she already knew. He was right. Rose had greeted them all warmly, but had been especially happy to see Green, greeting the officer with a big hug and instructing him to sit in a cushiony La-Z-Boy chair, obviously the choice seat in the house. Then she had pulled out a photo album and sat next to Anna on the couch. Rose flipped through the album, showing Anna the pictures of Laprea growing up: Laprea doing an Easter egg hunt in Sherry’s front yard; Laprea in a hot-pink dress standing before an airbrushed cloth background at her junior prom; Laprea in the hospital after she’d given birth to the twins. Green shifted in his chair and Rose looked up.
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