by Iris Bolling
"Simply requesting the return of property, Lieutenant," Naverone replied without twitching a muscle.
"Burke, do we have something that we shouldn't have?"
"No, sir, I do not."
Naverone pulled out her Secret Service badge, which she always kept in her back pocket when she had to prove a point. She flashed the badge and looked at the Lieutenant. "As you can see, Lieutenant, I am not your average citizen coming here to cause any problems. The personal cell phone of Vernon Brooks was turned into Detective Burke at the scene of the crime. I am coming here because the law states that any items seized from a defendant at the time of his arrest should be returned to said defendant when that defendant is released. Mr. Brooks’ cell phone was not returned to him. According to the chain of evidence report, Detective Burke signed for it." She turned back to Burke. "The Detective is not being very clear on where that cell phone may be located."
The woman looked over Naverone's shoulder to her detective. "Detective Burke, are you in possession of the cell phone in question?"
"No, Lieutenant, I am not.
"Detective Burke, would you take the steps to locate Mr. Brooks’ cell phone?" She then turned to Naverone. "We will have the phone returned to Mr. Brooks as soon as it is located."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. I appreciate that."
Both women turned to walk away as Burke mumbled under his breath. "Bitches."
Before the Lieutenant or anyone else could stop her, Naverone had grabbed the back of Burke's jacket, thrown him to the floor and had her knee in his back with her weapon drawn. “I've killed people for less," she whispered in his ear. Before the Lieutenant could pull her weapon Naverone had secured hers and pulled Burke up off the floor, onto his feet and dusted off his suit jacket.
The officers in the room pulled their weapons.
"Stand down," the Lieutenant shouted.
"You're going to let her get away with that?"
"With what, Burke?" She turned to Naverone. "You can take your leave now."
Naverone looked back at Burke once before walking out the door.
The Lieutenant looked at Burke. "I told you, you were going to call the wrong woman a bitch one day. And look what happened. She took you down and had you back on your feet before I could blink." She grinned. "I suggest you watch your mouth around her."
Burke looked around the room. "What in the hell are you looking at?" he growled at his co-workers. He huffed then sat down. He picked up his telephone. "You better get what you want off the phone. One of Brooks' investigators was just here looking for it." He hung up the phone then sat back. This case may be his ticket out of this dump. If he played his cards right, he could have a cushy investigator’s position in the DA's office.
#
Mitch could not get past the feeling he had that someone was in that house. He knew his partner told him to forget about it, but he couldn't. On his day off he returned to the scene. He walked the perimeter, because he did not want to disturb the crime scene inside. In the daylight, he hoped he could relieve the feeling that he had missed something. "What are you doing here?"
Jamison turned to see his partner standing at the corner of the house. He laughed. "Same reason you are here."
"We missed something."
Jamison nodded. "I may not be a detective, but I know when a rush to judgment is happening. The Lieutenant pulled us off too quickly for my taste."
Mitch walked over and stood next to his partner. "I don't believe Brooks did this."
"I agree. Let's do what we do." Jamison folded his arms across his chest. "Run down your steps to me again."
Mitch exhaled and began. "I walked down the hallway, checked the half-bath, the closet, the kitchen and the pantry. I took the backstairs, checked the two bedrooms, the two connecting baths, and both walk-in closets. There was no one there. I checked every window and door." He turned to the backdoor and pointed. "That door was locked. But, when I took the detectives through, the door was unlocked."
Jamison nodded. "Okay, let's start there."
The two pulled gloves out of their pockets and began walking to the patio, each taking an area, walking slowly to cover every inch. Jamison bent down when he noticed a dark stain on the glass leading to the back gate of the private fence.
"Mitch."
Mitch walked over to where Jamison was bent. "That looks like blood." The two looked around the area. "There's a little more here."
"The reason we could not find the bullet Brooks said he got off is because he hit someone." Jamison stood. "Let's get CSI back out here."
"Hold on before you make that call," Mitch said as Jamison began to dial. "Hear me out. Did you see the news coverage on this case? I have. I get the feeling the D.A. is running this investigation. There is no way Brooks should have been charged that quickly."
"Politics, Mitch. You know how the game is played. Take down a big name and your next step is a political position."
"I get that, but you don't do it at the expense of putting an innocent man behind bars."
"So what do you want to do, not turn over evidence? As the senior officer, I'm not going to allow you to go down that road. We're calling this in."
Mitch nodded still not certain his partner was right. "Is there anything wrong with having an independent test conducted before we do?"
"Mitch," Jamison sighed.
"Look something is not right here and you know it. All I'm saying is let's cover our asses. There are several droppings. We'll take a picture of what we find on our personal cells. You'll have a copy and so will I. We take one sample, just one, and have it tested so we will know the true identity of who the blood came from."
Jamison knew his partner was right. The DA was gunning for Brooks. The moment the man's name was mentioned blinders went on for any other suspect. "Here's what we are going to do. We are not going to tamper with evidence. That will cost you your job and I'll be walking a traffic beat. Everything is going to be examined by the CSI team. We'll take the pictures and suggest to someone on the defense team to ask about blood on the second run through." He held his partner’s speculative gaze until he nodded in agreement. Then Jamison called the CSI team back in.
Hours later, Mitch placed a call. "Naverone, traces of blood were found on the ground outside the back door of the Brooks crime scene. It's been put into evidence. Just wanted you to know."
Chapter Three
The last forty-eight hours had been grueling for Vernon. He could only imagine what it had been like for Taylor and the rest of his family. He had taken the stairway to his suite in the east wing of the Brooks estate. Wearing the same suit from the day before, which was just something he never did, he began stripping off his tie. The usual run up the stairs was weighed down with the events of the past day. His family was split between the hospital with Nick and the courtroom with him. It seemed hell had certainly rained down on them since Isaac Singleton came into their lives.
When he reached the foyer of his suites, he turned left and his pace slowed. The back of his mind was telling him Singleton was behind Constance's death, but there wasn't a damn bit of evidence to prove it. He stopped, lowered his head and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath he cleared his mind of his troubles. He needed to concentrate on Taylor.
It was the first time he would face his daughter alone since she walked into her mother's home to find him standing there with a gun in his hand. Vernon wanted to believe Taylor knew he would never hurt her mother. However, the reality was she had been around when they’d had heated arguments. She had heard him threaten to take Constance's life more than once. All he could do was pray she knew the truth as he walked to her door. Taking a deep breath, he put his fear aside and knocked on her door twice and waited. Taylor needed him was all he would allow to enter his mind. Seconds, which felt like minutes, passed. He knocked again and waited. Nothing. This time he knocked and opened the door.
"Taylor?"
There was no response. He walked through her si
tting area until he reached her bedroom. The bed was empty. Her cell phone buzzed. The face of Jason Whitfield, the NBA player Rene introduced her to, appeared. Vernon turned away knowing she was in the house for Taylor and the phone were usually joined at the hip. However, nothing had been usual about the last forty-eight hours. He checked her bathroom, the walk-in closet, her study room and even her balcony. She was nowhere to be found. Vernon walked out closing the door behind him. He was concerned, as he walked to his rooms at the end of the hallway. He stopped at the door that once housed Constance and still could not believe she was dead. He opened the door and walked in the now empty suites. Was she ever happy? he wondered. Did she ever get the better life she sold her soul for? He shook his head and walked back out the room closing the door on that time of his life. He checked the family room where they would sit and watch television whenever he had the time, but Taylor was not there either. Vernon made a mental note to call his mother at the hospital. Taylor could still be there with the rest of the family, he thought, as Charles, his butler met him at his door.
"Good morning, sir." Charles took Vernon's suit jacket as he walked in. "It's good to see you home."
"Thank you, Charles. How long have you been waiting at that door?"
"Since this time yesterday. At nine a.m. my plan was to put on my marching boots and come down to that courthouse if they hadn't let you go."
Vernon smiled as Charles put his jacket away. He knew Charles would do just that. The man had been taking care of their family since he was a child. "It's a good thing they arraigned me at eight a.m...for I believe you would do just that."
Charles stood in front of Vernon in his traditional crisp white shirt and black slacks. The look he delivered was a stern ‘what have you gotten yourself into’ look. "I know you did not do this thing. My question is how are you going to get yourself out of this mess?"
"Thank you for that, Charles. I'm simply going to tell the truth. The justice system is fair, I believe they will eventually see the error of their ways."
"I'm not talking about you being arrested. I know you will beat that rap. I'm speaking of your daughter. She's been here waiting all night for you to come home."
"Taylor's here?" Vernon set his glass down. "Where is she?"
"I finally convinced her to try to rest while she waited for you."
"Where, Charles, where?" an impatient Vernon asked.
Seeing the concern in Vernon's expression, Charles smiled. "You're a good father, Vernon Brooks."
"Charles, I swear I'm going to kill you if you don't tell me where she is right now."
"It’s that kind of talk that's gotten you in this situation," Charles said as he pointed to Vernon's study. "You need to curb that language," he all but yelled as Vernon walked out of the room.
Vernon opened the door to his study and there was his daughter. Yes, she was twenty-one years old and considered grown, but whenever he looked at her, he saw his baby girl with the pigtails, dressed in a shorts set and sneakers running in the garden. Even when she was on stage dressed in one of those ridiculous outfits Constance had picked out, with thousands of people screaming out 'Lil Tay' whenever she hit a certain note, she was still his little girl. The voice and the face of an angel, that was his Taylor.
He stood over her as she slept in his reflection chair. It was where he spent most of his time when he was working on a case. He remembered when she would run in the room and jump on his lap, throwing his book from his hands just to sing him a song.
Vernon reached down, picked up his daughter then carried her over to the sofa as she reactively put her arms around his neck.
"Daddy," she said as her eyes fluttered open.
"Yes, sweet pea. It's Daddy."
She tightened her grip around his neck as he sat her on the sofa. "What took so long? Why did you have to go to jail? Did they charge you?"
She sat next to him, her big, sad eyes looking up at him, with her legs swung across his. He brought her head to his shoulder. The sigh was long and deep. "Yes, sweet pea, they did charge me."
Her head sprang up. "Daddy, there is no way they can do that. Naverone and I were on the phone with you the entire time."
"That is not for you to be concerned with." He pushed her head back to his shoulder.
"I just lost my mother." Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I don't want to lose my father too."
He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, as he held her. "I promise I will find out what happened to your mother. I don't believe for one minute she killed herself. Even with all that was happening with us."
"I don't know, Daddy." Taylor shook her head against his shoulder. "I was pretty upset with her. We had some words about what she did to Jason. I said some ugly things and now I will never have a chance to take them back." Taylor wiped at the tears that continued to flow. "Naverone was taking me to talk with her, but....." She cried. "It was too late. We got there too late."
Vernon held his daughter as the heart wrenching cries exploded. "This is not your fault, Taylor. Your words were warranted at the time. But your mother knew...she knew you loved her." He held her face between his strong hands as the tears flowed. "Look at me, Taylor." He waited until her eyes focused on his. "Your mother would have never left you, Taylor, never. You were the one thing she loved more than life itself, and so do I." He kissed her temple, then put her head on his shoulder and let her cry until she fell asleep.
Once he was certain Taylor was sleep, he laid his head back and for the first time in forty-eight hours Vernon allowed his emotions to take control. His and Constance’s relationship had been tenuous from the beginning. Never did he imagine it would end this way. Deep inside he knew she never would have taken her own life. And for as much as he threatened and had justification to, he never would have taken her life either. For the simple reason that Constance gave him Taylor and for that he was forever in her debt. The tears overwhelmed him as he thought back to the day Constance Abernathy caught his attention in her tight jeans and tank top.
#
Twenty-two Years Earlier
Spring had hit the campus in April, Vernon thought as he drove his shining black 321i BMW onto campus. He was running late for class, when he noticed girls after girls were walking the campus in skimpy clothes that would turn any man's head. Poison by Bell, Biv and DeVoe was playing on his radio. "Never trust a big butt and a smile," he said out loud as the sweetest ass he had ever seen walked up behind him after he parked. He watched through the rearview mirror as the two girls walked towards the building he was about to enter. "My, my, my," he said as he turned off the car and hurried inside. He had made it through just about three years of college without having the 'taken' label on him, however, as he followed the girls down the hallway, he considered changing his philosophy on the ‘no girlfriend’ clause for those jeans.
"Brooks." His friend Wade hit him on the shoulder. "Come on, man, we're going to be late for class."
Shaking those thoughts from his head, he ran past the girls looking back as he followed Wade down the hall. He began to run backwards as he determined the face was as good as the behind. "Damn," he said then turned to pay attention to where he was going. He made a mental note to find Jeans, that's what he decided her name would be, cause girl was wearing the hell out of those jeans.
As it turned out, he did not have to search far. After class, the two girls were at the door of his next class talking with his professor. As he walked towards the still opened door Vernon caught the eye of the ‘jeans’ girl and smiled.
"The door is about to close, Mr. Brooks," the professor warned with a knowing nod.
Vernon looked up at the professor and grinned. "I see you have a few new recruits. I'd be happy to entice them into taking your class." He smiled at Jeans.
"While he tries to take something else." Wade chuckled as he pulled at Vernon.
"Inside, Mr. Brooks." The Professor closed the door, just as Vernon stepped inside.
After class
Vernon inquired about the two students.
"They are sophomores, Mr. Brooks. One is considering pre-law. She will audit Monday's class to see if it suits her."
"Would that be the tall one or the short one?"
"Yes," was all the professor said.
Wade laughed as Vernon walked out of the classroom looking dejected. "You know the professor was not going to give you any info on the chick."
"I had to try." Vernon shrugged his shoulders. "But don't worry. I will find her." He grinned.
"Your confidence is overbearing, Brooks. One day you're going to be sorry you followed a big butt," Wade teased as they walked out of the building.
Monday, Vernon was the first person to arrive in class. He sat in the back and encouraged others who usually joined him to sit somewhere else leaving the seat beside him empty. Wade ignored his request.
"Saving this seat for somebody?"
"Man, move."
"I don't see a name on this seat."
"You're going to see my foot up your ass if you don't move."
"That's cold, Brooks." Wade gave him a hurt look.
"Stop blocking, Logan," Vernon said just as Jeans appeared at the door. "Move," he whispered forcefully at his friend.
Wade looked toward the door. "You owe me one, Brooks," he said then took another seat.
Vernon turned his attention to the front of the room, but kept his peripheral vision on Jeans. She walked in wearing a short skirt and white top. Looking around, she took the seat in the back, next to him.
Vernon opened his book and pretended he was looking at his notes, but was checking out her legs. Smooth skin, thick calves, nice thighs, a big butt and a pretty face. What a combination. Yes, he decided. He had to get with her.
The professor began class with a series of questions that pitted Vernon against Wade Logan as always. The two were clearly the most knowledgeable and comfortable about their choice in careers and were quite competitive and entertaining with their rebuttals. Soon, the girl in the seat next to him was forgotten as the back and forth banter became more intense. By the end of the class Vernon won, however he knew next week Wade would come back strong. After class, Jeans tapped him on the shoulder.
