Surviving the Chase

by Lisa Renee Johnson

  Austyn tried harder to get away, but his body weight held her motionless beneath him. A car door slammed, followed by loud, angry voices, which could be heard in the parking lot.

  “What the hell?”

  He got up off her, held the waist of his sagging pants, and walked the short distance to the window. He peeked outside, then quickly began fastening his belt buckle.

  “I need you to bring your ass down to my room in fifteen minutes. Not a moment sooner or later. And don’t make me have to come back and get you either.”

  As soon as the door closed, she placed the safety chain on the door and stood there a moment with her back pressed against it. She had to get out of there. Without a trace of emotion, she scrambled to the closet, removed the floorboard, and exhaled a sigh of relief when she saw the black duffel bag. She picked it up and tossed it on the bed, then with lightning speed, she scrambled to collect the rest of her belongings.

  Once the car was packed, Austyn spent a few minutes pacing the floor, figuring out what she was going to do and how she was going to do it. Her hands shook a little as she knelt down in front of the air-conditioning unit and located the familiar bump she was looking for.

  She opened her kit, took out a syringe, and filled it with the clear liquid from two of the tiny bottles. Normally, it only took five cc’s to do the trick, but ten cc’s seemed appropriate. Out of habit, she flicked the round cylinder to remove the air bubbles, but she caught herself and laughed. For this patient, it didn’t matter if air was in the syringe or not, because complications with his heart and circulatory system would be the least of his worries.

  After taking one last look around, she rezipped the small bag, then carefully tucked the syringe up the sleeve of her sweatshirt. It was time to put her full plan into motion. But first, she had to go pay Ray a visit.

  With the courtyard empty, Austyn made her way to the room at the far end of the building. The door was slightly ajar, and she found Ray perched on the bed with nothing on but boxer briefs and a thick gold chain.

  “Close the door and lock it behind you.” He called to someone in the bathroom, “Baby girl, c’mere.”

  Austyn was startled when a young girl who looked to be around sixteen years old eased out of the bathroom. She was wearing denim shorts, blinged-out sneakers, and a safety-orange T-shirt. Austyn felt like she was staring at an image of her fourteen-year-old self. The young girl looked terrified, her eyes swollen and red like she’d been crying. Austyn understood exactly what she was going through. Her mind transported back to strangers using her body for their pleasure, and then disregarding her like she was trash. Men like Ray.

  “I was beginning to think you stood me and Cherry—”

  “My name is Najee!” the young girl yelled and began to cry uncontrollably. “I’ve been kidnapped, and I want to go home,” she managed between sobs.

  “Shut the fuck up. I told you your name is Cherry and this is your home now—until Daddy pops that cherry, then I’m sending you to Vegas.”

  “I don’t do children,” Austyn said, allowing the hidden syringe to slide into the palm of her hand.

  “I need Cherry to understand how to give and receive pleasure from both a man and a woman. And once she learns the ropes, she’s gonna make me a lot of money. Ain’t that right, Cherry?”

  Austyn began to unravel from the inside out. A heavy feeling rested in her chest. The young girl’s sad eyes caught Austyn’s and pleaded for help.

  “Lose the girl or I’m outta—”

  Within seconds, Ray was out of the bed, his hand wrapped around her throat. This felt like a repeat of the scene from her room, but this time she wanted it, needed him close in order for her plan to work. His eyes hardened.

  “Bitch, you ain’t controlling nothing in here,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Najee, then back at her. “Now both you bitches, get fucking undressed.”

  The girl bolted back into the bathroom, slammed the door, and locked it behind her.

  Do it now, the voice in Austyn’s brain echoed. She eased the cap off the syringe and waited for the opportunity.

  “Cherry! Cherry! Goddammit, get yo ass back out here now!” He waited a few beats, but the door never opened. “After I teach this bitch a lesson about Ray’s world, you’re next!”

  Using the distraction, Austyn raised her free arm in the air and jabbed him in his neck, injecting the clear liquid in one fluid motion, then dropped the syringe on the floor. Ray’s eyes bulged in surprise. He released her, his hand now searching for the pinch that he’d just felt on his neck.

  “Bitch! What did you give me?”

  Ray pushed her back so hard her body slammed, then bounced on the bed. Austyn scrambled toward the wooden headboard to give space as she removed the scalpel from the front pocket of the hoodie. Ray lunged and she attacked, the first slice cutting Ray across the cheek.

  He reached for the sting on his face, and bright red blood seeped through his fingers.

  “Fuck! You cut my face,” Ray cried out in disbelief. “You crazy bitch, I’ma kill you.” His movements were quick at first, but quickly slowed, unable to control the drug-induced sluggishness that was spreading through his body. He fell back on the bed, searching her face for answers.

  “What the fuck did you give me?” he slurred.

  “Something to rid the world of your misery.”

  With the medication in full control, Austyn cut him again and again—payback for every sick bastard who had ever done her wrong. Then, instead of her usual modus operandi, she slit his throat in one quick swipe, and watched closely as the life seeped out of him.

  “Who’s the bitch now, you fucking predator!”

  * * *

  Najee sat crouched on the bathroom floor, terrified by the sounds seeping under the locked door. She had to get out of there before they came back for her. Sobbing quietly and hoping not to attract attention, she chastised herself as the meeting with the man on Bay Street flashed through her mind. How could she be so stupid to believe his story about some modeling job? She knew better than that. She needed Tony to know she was smarter than that. Still sluggish from whatever drug they gave to her, her eyes bounced around the confined space, spotting the small rectangular window up above. It was dark outside, but this was her only chance. Before she could push herself into the upright position, she heard footsteps coming toward the closed door, and she bolted upright and yanked back the shower curtain. Her heart sank and the tears flowed instantly. There was no way she could fit through the window, but maybe she could scream for help and help would come for her. There was a quick knock.

  “Hey.”

  Najee looked back at the locked door, her breaths coming fast and quick. She was on the verge of hyperventilation.

  “He can’t hurt you anymore, but don’t open this door for anyone until the police come.”

  Najee remained silent. Was this a trick? Where were the other guys who brought her here in the first place?

  “Do you hear me?” the woman’s voice said again.

  “How long before they come?”

  “I don’t know, but don’t forget what I said.”

  CHAPTER 33

  The twenty-room motel was situated on the main street that ran through Pittsburg. Reporters had the property under siege as police officers from multiple agencies fought to secure the crime scene. As he drove past, Donathan could see the yellow caution tape fluttering in the wind at the far end of the property.

  He parked across the street, next to the light-blue Toyota Corolla, and stepped out of his Mercedes, tugging on the bib of the baseball cap he’d worn to help shield his identity. He knew there would be reporters present, and the last thing he needed was for the media frenzy to focus on his presence. He adjusted his sunglasses and stood next to the private investigator, a barrage of questions firing from his mouth.

  “What the hell is going on? I can’t believe you found Austyn and Lois Greene. Why didn’t you call me last night?”

&
nbsp; Never taking his eyes off the scene unfolding across the street, Holsey snapped. “Let’s get something clear right now. I don’t only work for you. You are paying me to locate Lois Greene, not Austyn Greene. Now, if I were you, I’d be quiet and grateful that you’re here.”

  A police car drove up and blocked the lane of traffic closest to the motel entrance. The uniformed officer exited the cruiser and directed the traffic to a single lane.

  “Follow me and zip it,” the old man said, his voice sounding gravelly, like sandpaper.

  Donathan followed behind the man, inhaling the thirdhand smoke as it drifted off the private detective’s clothing. Chain-smoking inside confined cars and being exposed to carbon dioxide had visibly caught up with him. His orange leathery skin was the worst thing Donathan had ever seen. They jaywalked across the four lanes of traffic and weaved to the front of the chaos. Holsey called to one of the detectives, and he motioned for the officer standing guard to let him in.

  “He’s with me,” he said, motioning to Donathan as they ducked under the crime scene tape and made their way over to the officer who looked like he was in charge.

  “Detective McGrady,” Holsey said. “What’s the story?”

  “The deceased is Raymond Michael Carter. He’s been arrested for minor drug possessions and a few assaults, but it looks like he moved on to trafficking the young ladies,” he said. “We found a young girl locked in the bathroom.”

  “Open and shut?”

  “Not a speck of blood on her, but she’s so traumatized she’s not talking.”

  “Is that her in the back of the squad car?” Holsey asked, nodding his head in the direction of the crying young woman.

  “The victim was transported by the Sexual Assault Response Team to John Muir Medical Center in Walnut Creek. According to the girl in the back seat, she’d gone to his room to give him some money, but when she got no answer, she used a key she had for emergencies. That’s when she found him.”

  “How long has he been dead?”

  “Twelve hours tops, but as you can see, we’re not getting very much out of her right now.”

  “Can we take a peek at the crime scene?” asked Holsey.

  The officer looked from Holsey to Donathan, then back to Holsey again.

  “He’s cool—”

  “I know exactly who he is. Hell, anybody with a television does, too. What I’m trying to figure out is, why’s he here?”

  “He’s helping me on a case.”

  Detective McGrady stared at the two men in silence for a moment longer, then said, “Let me see if I can arrange that. But the best I can do is allow you to take a look from the doorway.”

  Donathan surveyed the courtyard as they waited for the crime team to wave them down. Officers were going door to door, questioning the occupants, who were standing outside their rooms watching the drama unfold. It seemed that everybody was claiming not to have seen anything, but Donathan wasn’t buying it. He observed as Detective McGrady began to question a tall, slender man through a partially open door. Donathan wasn’t close enough to hear the man’s responses, but as a therapist, he was trained to read body language. Keeping the door partially closed indicated he was hiding something.

  Donathan had the urge to move closer, but then changed his mind. He was so close to finding Austyn Greene and didn’t want to jeopardize the fact that Holsey had gotten him access to her last known whereabouts. He scanned the courtyard, again noting good visibility from almost any vantage point. These people might not be talking, but he’d bet money that somebody here saw or heard something.

  CHAPTER 34

  Sheldon hid behind the half-opened door, trying to make sense of what the detective was saying. Inside, his anxiety was teetering. He was mesmerized and terrified at the same time by the yellow caution tape separating the familiar room from everything else. Last night he’d held up in his room getting high, but on more than one occasion the commotion from the courtyard summoned him to peek out the front window. He’d seen them pull the young girl from the car kicking and screaming, but having seen that scenario play out many times before, he shrugged it off. But the thing that struck him most of the night was seeing Ray hurry out of the bitch’s room then her march down to his. He didn’t know much about her, but he knew enough to know that those two were like oil and water that didn’t mix. Now she was dead.

  “Mr. Jones, were you in your room last night?”

  “I ain’t did nothing,” Sheldon blurted out, his heart racing like it was going to jump from his chest. He glanced over at the smoldering paraphernalia on the table and held on to the door a little tighter.

  “Now, hold on,” Detective McGrady said, motioning with the palms of his hands. “Nobody said you did anything.”

  Sheldon tried to keep a straight face. He could barely contain his glee that his prayers had been answered. Over the past few days, her impromptu conversations had kept his drug habit supplied, but he knew she was bad news and had racked his brain relentlessly trying to figure out how to escape her grasp. Turns out Ray of all people had done the deed for him. He didn’t feel an ounce of remorse that the heifer was dead. His only regret was he’d have to find a new way to get his fix.

  “Did you see or hear anything?” Detective McGrady asked.

  Normally when Sheldon got high, sound was magnified, and last night was no different. His brain was a little fuzzy, but he’d seen her going to the room that was now covered in caution tape. But a snitch violated the code of the street, so he wasn’t telling the cops a damn thing.

  “I didn’t see nothing.”

  “Did you hear anything?” the detective said with a Southern drawl.

  “I didn’t hear nothing either.”

  The detective stared at him suspiciously, then handed him a business card.

  “Here’s my contact information. Ray deserves justice, and finding his killer is the first part of that. But we’re going to need some help. So, if anybody decides to talk,” he said emphasizing the word anybody, “tell them to call me.”

  Sheldon snatched the card and slammed the door shut. He could feel bile rising in his throat. Ray? Oh, Lawd Jesus! The girl wasn’t dead like he thought. She had killed Ray. He grabbed his pipe, cell phone, and backpack, and then stalked the parking lot from the shadows of the window curtains. As soon as McGrady disappeared into the taped-off room, Sheldon slipped out the door, eased past the crowd, and headed south on Railroad Avenue.

  * * *

  The ringing phone jolted Payton awake from her sex-induced slumber. Tony was gone, but she still felt the tingles and sensations he’d induced strumming through her body. On the drive to her condo, she couldn’t keep her hands off him, and once they were inside her condo, he wasted no time. It was like he had a point to prove, and she loved every thrust of it. Later, they’d gone out to retrieve her car and come back for seconds. She couldn’t believe she’d allowed him to sleep in her bed all night and hadn’t gotten claustrophobic. Now he’d only been gone an hour, and she already craved his body heat in her bed.

  She blew out a satisfied breath and picked up the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “She killed him! She killed him,” Sheldon screamed, his words rolling on top of each other.

  “Slow down, Uncle Sheldon. Who killed whom?”

  “That scheming bitch across the courtyard. She killed Ray, and she probably gon’ kill me. Niecy, you gotta help me.”

  Payton sat up, her back resting against the headboard. Lord, why didn’t she check the caller ID before picking up the receiver? She might not have been able to let the call go to voice mail, but at least she could have prepared herself mentally for what was to come.

  “Slow down, Uncle Sheldon.”

  “Girl, listen. She killed Ray, and she’s after you and Lois!”

  “Who killed somebody?” she questioned, trying to connect the dots playing peek-a-boo on the fringes of her mind. Although her uncle had a serious drug problem, his bold personality and
addictive charms attracted the wrong crowd. Payton warned him many times that he had to be careful on the streets. Now it sounded like he’d gotten himself mixed up in a murder. But she didn’t understand why the name sounded vaguely familiar.

  At first, the memory was fuzzy, then suddenly it came to her.

  “The pimp at your motel?” Payton said, sitting more upright in bed.

  Yesterday, Ray—well, at least that’s what she thought he said his name was—had been alive and well, shaking her down for money. If his no-good ass was dead, she didn’t feel the least bit sorry, but she didn’t want her uncle to go to prison for something like this.

  “Yes! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  “Did you hurt someone, Uncle Sheldon?” she asked, growing more concerned. His paranoid rant was over the top, and she had to convince him to get some help so she could get to the bottom of this. Payton opened her nightstand drawer and reached for a notepad with information about a drug detox center in Concord. A few days ago, she’d called to inquire about the process to get someone into rehab, and now she was glad she did. “Where are you?”

  “Jack in the Box on Railroad.”

  “Stay there, I’m on my way.”

  * * *

  The drive to Pittsburg went by quickly. Payton was desperate to pick up Sheldon and get him to the facility where he could get help. Only then would they be able to have a lucid conversation. But she had her work cut out for her because the first obstacle was to convince him to go. When she arrived at the fast-food chain, she had no idea what state she would find him in. She went inside, looked around, and just as she’d feared, there was no sign of Sheldon. She pushed open the restroom door and called out to him, but there was no answer.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she mumbled under her breath. He could be anywhere, and she had no idea where to look first. “This is the last time I’m falling for this shit.” When she reached her car door, she heard the faint sound of the nickname only he called her in the distance. “Niecy. Niecy,” he hissed.