by Saundra
Tears pooled in Klaudya’s eyes. “But . . . but . . .” She swallowed hard, but it was still hard to slow her breathing. “What about momma? She’s coming with me, right?”
“Aww, sweetie. I’m afraid not.” Durham reached for the girl’s hand again, and again, Klaudya pulled farther away.
“I want my momma. Now!” Klaudya’s bottom lip trembled.
Mrs. Durham shook her head. “I’m afraid it may be a long time before that happens.”
* * *
“When can I see my daughter?” Nichelle asked the first officer entering the interrogation room.
“We’ll get to that in due time.” Armstrong settled wide-legged into the chair across from her while his partner stayed back and leaned against the door.
“She’s scared and was in shock when I left her. I have to talk to her and make her understand that everything is going to be all right. I’m going to take care of everything.”
Armstrong’s eyes narrowed as he watched her fret. She hadn’t been processed and was still covered in her husband’s blood. Her eyes were unusually wide.
“Calm down, Mrs. Mathis. Your daughter is in good hands. She is being well taken care of.”
“But I will get to see her again, right? I can get one of the girls down at the club to bring her in for a visit, right? They do let you do that, right?”
“Mrs. Mathis, we need to go over what happened tonight. We need to know what happened to your husband and your son.”
Tears streaked Nichelle’s face as she opened and closed her mouth without a single word falling from her lips. Until that moment, she hadn’t formulated what she was going to tell the police. Reality hadn’t set in. Her daughter may have been in shock, but she was in denial. Nichelle needed a story and quick.
Armstrong cleared his throat and wrangled her thoughts back to the present. “You and your husband have quite the record of domestic violence. He’d called the police on you, and you’d called the police on him. He’d beat you up and you’d beat him up. Which was it tonight, Mrs. Mathis? And who hurt little Kaedon?”
“That was an accident.”
“But your husband wasn’t an accident? Is that what you’re saying?”
“What? No. He was . . . I was . . .” Her mouth kept moving even after the words stopped flowing.
Armstrong turned and glanced back at Schneider, who looked down on the woman and shook his head. Sighing, Armstrong turned back to their suspect and pushed her for an answer. “Tell us what happened to your husband, Mrs. Mathis?”
Another tear streaked down her face. “What happened? Shadiq . . . got exactly what he deserved.”
* * *
At the end of the eulogy, Armstrong made a sign of the cross while the crowd’s gazes crept toward him and his partner.
It was time.
They had a job to do. Together, the two lieutenants marched through the crowd.
“Nichelle Mathis?”
The flawless older beauty turned with her brows already arched inquisitively. “Yes?”
“We have a warrant for your arrest.” Schneider flashed the warrant while Armstrong produced the handcuffs to the astonished woman.
“What?” Her beautiful caramel skin flushed.
“You have the right to remain silent . . .”
Nichelle stuttered indignantly as the funeral crowd halted in their tracks to stare.
Armstrong wasn’t without sympathy as they led her back through the crowd. He did, however, make a sidelong glimpse at Klaudya. Her ice-cold expression had yet to change. No. That wasn’t right. It had changed. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
Not for the first time, Armstrong wondered whether they were arresting the right woman.
