Damaged

by Stacy-Deanne

  “Don’t you dare even think of accusing me.” Jonathan grabbed the chair’s armrests. “I didn’t kill Prisha.”

  “Yet, this is the same woman you threw out The Circle because she was having your baby.”

  “I wanted nothing to happen to her, Lewis.” He pointed at him. “I’m not a killer.”

  “Did you know she was back in town?” Connie asked.

  “She came here a few weeks ago. I couldn’t believe she was back.” Jonathan watched Winston with a cocky expression. “And you thought I’d killed her before. Wrong again, huh?”

  “You knew the police thought she was missing,” Winston said. “Why didn’t you tell anyone she was in town?”

  “Is that my responsibility? Prisha was a grown woman, and she was no longer apart of this community.” He sighed, dropping his head. “She didn’t stay long. She was mad at me as I’d expect her to be. I tried to make amends but she wouldn’t hear it. I reminded her of the worst pain she’d ever experienced.”

  Connie crossed her legs. “What is that?”

  “She’d had a miscarriage, and she blamed me and The Circle for turning our backs on her.”

  “She lost the baby?” Connie whispered.

  “Yeah.” Jonathan’s face contorted into sincerity. “Right after I kicked her out. She had an emotional breakdown and lost the baby due to stress.”

  “You put her through hell for your own selfish reasons.”

  “Winston.” Connie touched his hand.

  “Well, he did and I don’t feel sorry for him.”

  “The baby was his too.”

  “So?” Winston let out a harsh breath. “He didn’t want it. That’s why he kicked her out.”

  “You’re a vile son of a bitch.” Jonathan rubbed his knuckles. “Reveling in my pain.”

  “Oh, give it up. You didn’t care about Prisha or that baby. You were glad they were out of your hair.”

  “Stop it,” Connie told Winston. “Jonathan, is there anything you can tell us?”

  “That’s the only time I saw her.” He shook his head. “She didn’t want anything to do with me and—”

  “Jonathan?” Dee’s voice rang from the hall.

  Winston leapt from the couch.

  She fluttered into the room in a sleeveless white dress with her hair in an angelic bun. “I didn’t realize we had company.”

  “Darling.” Jonathan kissed Dee’s cheek, plunging that knife further into Winston’s heart.

  “Dee?” Connie stood, holding her arms out. “How are you?”

  “Connie.” Dee hugged her while glancing at Winston. “I’ve missed you.”

  Connie exhaled, face etched in surprise. “You look different.”

  “More peaceful, perhaps?” Dee chuckled, touching her brown cheek. “Winston.” She presented a shaky smile. “How are you?”

  “How do you think I am?” he spoke low. “I’m dying. My heart is full of pain as long as you stay here.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, Dee.” He stared at her, desperate to record her sensual expression in his memory forever. “Just come back home.”

  “I...” She went back to Jonathan’s side and put her arm around his waist. “I am home. You have to accept that—”

  “I’ll never accept it!” Winston threw his notepad and pencil on the hardwood floor. “You belong to me.”

  “She’s made her choice,” Jonathan said.

  “I’m a part of The Circle now, Winston.” She stroked her white dress. “This is my home.”

  “Lydia’s in town.”

  She gaped.

  “She’s staying at my place.”

  She touched the diamond necklace with the heart-shaped pendent that settled in between her bulging cleavage. “I’d love to see her.”

  “Sure.” Jonathan kissed her forehead. “She’s welcomed to the compound any time, Lewis. You’re not.”

  “I’m not letting Lydia come anywhere near this place. If Dee wants to see her then she has to come with me.”

  “Out of the question,” Jonathan said.

  Winston took a deep breath. “Dee, he wants to keep you separated from the people who love you so he can keep you under his spell.”

  “If you love Deidra like you claim then you’ll bring Lydia here.” Jonathan smiled. “I’d love to meet Lydia very much.”

  Winston swallowed. “Dee, can we talk, please?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Jonathan pulled her behind him. “Are we done here?”

  “Get your hands off her.” Winston held his breath.

  Jonathan snickered. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Wait.” Dee moved from behind Jonathan. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “Prisha was murdered,” Connie said. “Someone strangled her and left her on West Chelsea Boulevard.”

  “What?” Dee covered her mouth. “She came to the compound. Said she lost the baby.” She shut her eyes. “I prayed for her and told her I wished her well. Who would do this?”

  Winston shrugged. “Jonathan?”

  “I didn’t kill Prisha.”

  “Course you didn’t.” Dee stroked Jonathan’s cheek. “Jonathan was devastated when he learned she lost the baby.”

  “What the hell did he do to you?” Winston rocked, pointing at Jonathan. “You gotta come out of this, honey. You’re killing me, Dee.”

  “Leave.” Jonathan pointed to the door. “Or my guards will show you out.”

  “Just give me one minute, Dee.” Winston searched her dazzling face for any evidence she cared for him. “I know you miss me under this facade.”

  “We can’t keep doing this.” She moved from his touch. “Move on.”

  “I’ll never let you go.”

  Jonathan got in between them. “I won’t tell you to leave again.”

  “Come on, Winston.” Connie pulled him toward the door.

  “She’s mine, Jonathan,” Winston yelled as he left. “I’ll save you, Dee. I promise, baby!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Hey, Connie.” Grayson sprung from the chair beside Connie’s desk when she and Winston returned to the station.

  “Grayson.” A chill went through her cheek as she glanced back at Winston. “What are you doing here?”

  “I brought you these.” He got the gorgeous bouquet of assorted flowers off the desk. “I tried to find some as lovely as you are but there isn’t a such flower.”

  Winston rolled his eyes, groaning.

  “These are beautiful.” Connie sniffed the bitter and sweet bouquet. “What’s the occasion?”

  Grayson glanced at Winston, the brown in his eyes exploding against his frost-gray shirt. “You mind giving us some privacy?”

  “You want privacy, leave.” Winston gestured at detectives and uniform officers going back and forth in the stuffy room. “I work here so I don’t have to accommodate you.”

  Grayson exhaled.

  “Winston.” Connie held in a grin. “Would you excuse us, please?”

  Winston walked off, eyes rolling.

  Connie crossed her arms. “Why are you here, Grayson?”

  “I feel awful about last night.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his Dockers and leaned forward. “You had every right to be upset.”

  “No, I overreacted.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Maybe it’s my hormones or something.”

  “I should’ve known better than to take you to a place Dee loved. On one hand, I said you were special, but I didn’t show it.” He gripped her shoulder. “You’re special, Connie. I enjoy spending time with you.”

  She dipped her head, nodding. “I feel the same way.”

  “I do still have feelings for Dee.” He let her shoulder go. “You deserve honesty concerning that. But, I am ready to move on.”

  “I hope so because I’m not in the mood to waste my time. I’ve been alone for a while and I can do bad by myself.”

  He chuckled,
wrinkles invading his sexy eyes. “I’ve dated women since Dee, but this is the first time I feel like it could be more than casual.”

  She broke from his seductive stare and grabbed the flowers. “It’s been so long since a man’s brought me flowers. This means a lot.”

  “Get used to it.” He gazed at her as she walked behind her desk. “Because they’ll be more where that came from.”

  She sat, head low to hide her grin.

  “Well, I guess I’d better be going. Can I call you later?”

  “Sure.” Connie caught a male detective snickering at her as he passed her desk. “Thanks for the flowers.”

  Grayson leaned over the desk, grabbed her hand, and kissed it. “Hope they’re as sweet as you.”

  She fanned away hot flashes as he left.

  A moment later, Winston returned. “So?” He held a sneaky grin. “This thing between you and Grayson getting serious?” He sat on the edge of her desk, lifting the flowers. “What’s the deal?”

  “We like each other’s company.” Connie awoke her sleeping computer. “No more and no less.”

  “I’m not a chick but when a guy brings a woman flowers, it means something.”

  “We’re easing to another level.”

  “Whoa.” He laughed, jumping off the desk. “You’re dating Grayson?”

  “I guess.”

  “What do you mean you guess?”

  “Winston.” She chuckled, sniffing the flowers. “How is this any of your business?”

  “It’s great news.” He stood back, holding his palms out. “Hell, I’m all for Grayson moving on if it means he stays out of Dee’s face.” He touched his goatee. “Now I gotta pry her away from Jonathan.”

  “You’ll get Dee back.” Connie typed. “Nothing can stop true love.”

  Winston reached over and poked her cheek. “You’re blushing.”

  She swatted his hand away. “I am not.”

  “Yes you are.” He winked. “You’re cute when you blush.”

  She shook her head, laughing.

  “Connie and Grayson sitting in a tree.” Winston swiveled his narrow hips. “K-i-s-s-i-n-g.”

  She threw a pencil at him. “Shut up.”

  ****

  The second Winston entered the bar and grill that night he noticed the sensuous, pale woman with a head of black crinkles.

  Shauna sat at the bar in a tight, royal blue dress, which showed off her lengthy legs and outrageous curves.

  He took a deep breath, replaying their phone conversation in his mind. “What the hell is this?” he whispered.

  She turned to the side, caught sight of him and waved.

  Winston walked past tables, glancing at customers scarfing down onion rings and greasy chicken.

  “Hey.” Shauna smiled as Winston sat on the stool beside her. “You look nice.” She pointed to his white shirt. “You always dress so neat.”

  He cleared his throat, trying to ignore her bust hanging from the dress. “It’s different seeing you in color.”

  “I picked the blue dress on purpose.” She shimmied her shoulder, eyebrow arching. “It reminded me of your pretty eyes.”

  He scratched the bridge of his nose. “Why am I here, Shauna?”

  “Order something.” She gestured to her plate of oily fries and fried catfish.

  “Just tell me what you want.” Winston straightened his watch. “Not in the mood for games.”

  “As I told you on the phone, I’m out of The Circle now.” She ate coleslaw, leaving lipstick on the fork. “Does that surprise you?”

  He shrugged. “Why should I care?”

  She sighed, licking the corner of her mouth. “Why are you being so mean?”

  “Because I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. I wish you and the rest of The Circle hadn’t ever come into our lives.”

  “I never did anything to you.”

  “For the last time...” He gritted his teeth. “Why am I here?”

  “You know someone else might think you didn’t like me as to the reason you’re being such an asshole.” She sipped dark soda. “But, I think it’s because you do.”

  “You want to play mind games?” He got off the stool. “Do it alone. I’m going home.”

  “Wait.” She grabbed his arm. “I want to offer my help concerning Dee.”

  He sat again. “Go on.”

  “Jonathan kicked me out of The Circle a few months ago but he presented me with the chance to join again but I have to prove myself to him.”

  “How?”

  “Just being loyal.” She ate fish. “Doing whatever he needs me to do. But, what he doesn’t know is I haven’t gotten over how he threw me aside. I thought about you and I wanted to help you get Dee back.” She touched his hand. “I can find out what Jonathan’s done to make her turn on you. I can gather proof to show he kidnapped her, anything.”

  “And nothing is in this for you but sticking it to Jonathan?”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Even if I’m lying, do you care? I’m the only chance you have at getting the woman you love back.” She got her glass. “Don’t waste it.”

  “I’ll think about it.” He stood. “Bye.”

  “Don’t take too long.”

  He started then stopped. “What’s your last name, anyway?”

  She smiled. “Robinson.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Four Days Later

  A lanky, average-height man with translucent skin, peeked out the room at the Bay Bridge Boarding House. “May I help you?” His dull-green eyes scanned Winston and then protruded out their sockets when he saw Connie. “Hello.” He widened the door, his gaze falling upon her.

  “We’re Detectives Winston Lewis and Connie Wilks.” Winston flashed his badge to the man. “Homicide. Are you CeCe Babbitt?”

  He stepped out the door, barefoot in wrinkled jeans and a faded, gray T-shirt. “You’re the detectives on Prisha’s case.”

  Winston put away his badge. “We’d like to speak to you for a moment if that’s okay.”

  CeCe wiggled his skinny, pink toes against the threshold. “Am I in trouble?”

  Connie smiled. “We need to clarify something and we’d appreciate your cooperation.”

  CeCe’s face lit up when he looked at Connie. “Your eyes are pretty.” He snickered, rocking. “They’re green like mine.”

  She batted as she looked at Winston. “Yes, they are.”

  “Can we come in?” Winston pointed inside his room.

  CeCe hesitated and then stepped aside, rubbing his backside.

  Winston entered the cozy room after Connie, the aroma of corn chips and grape juice smacking him in the face.

  Connie took her notepad out and sat on the lavender, floral spread on the queen sized bed. “How old are you, Mr. Babbitt?”

  He smiled as if she’d asked him on a date. “Thirty. How old are you?”

  She winked. “Late thirties and that’s all you’re getting from me.”

  CeCe’s smile got even bigger.

  “We got Prisha’s diary when we searched her room.” Winston crossed his arms. “She wrote a lot about you, CeCe.”

  “She did?” He leaned forward, his eyes dancing out their sockets. “I’m surprised.”

  Connie glanced at Winston while jotting. “That means a lot to you?”

  CeCe dialed back the excitement as if he noticed the officers’ suspicion. “Just surprising.”

  “You liked her a lot didn’t you?” Winston asked.

  CeCe looked away.

  “It’s okay if you liked her,” Connie said. “No harm in that.”

  “Prisha was very, very pretty. Had that long, thick black hair and that mole right under her bottom lip.” CeCe pointed to a spot on his face. “On the left. It was so small you could hardly see it.”

  Winston and Connie exchanged glances.

  “She was from Telengana in South India.” CeCe looked at the dome light in the mid
dle of the ceiling. “I’d never heard of it until she mentioned it.”

  “She spoke to you about where she was from?” Connie pointed her pencil at him.

  “No, I overheard her talking to a lady at the boarding house.”

  “Hm.” Winston faked a smile. “Is that what you do...listen to people?”

  “Prisha fascinated me. I wanted to know more about her culture and the things she liked.”

  Winston wandered toward the sliding door of the semi-private balcony. “How often did you speak to Prisha?”

  CeCe’s animated expression disappeared. “A few times.”

  Connie said. “Did Prisha not like you or something?”

  “We didn’t talk much.”

  “It’s funny because in her diary...” Winston tapped his chin. “Prisha says you were bothering her. That you kept asking her out and wouldn’t leave her alone.”

  “No,” he blurted as if he were a child caught in a lie. “I asked her out about twice and that was it.”

  Winston shook his head. “Prisha wrote different.”

  “You kept asking her out,” Connie said. “She kept saying no, and she found you weird.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” CeCe rolled his eyes. “Everyone thinks I’m weird because I stay in my room and only go to work. I’m not weird.” He walked to his desktop computer on the table by the refrigerator. “I’m an introvert.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend,” Connie said. “Just saying what Prisha wrote.”

  “I didn’t kill Prisha.” CeCe sat in the wooden chair by the table, gaze on the indigo-blue carpet.

  “Where do you work?” Winston asked.

  “The office supply store on Circa Street. Work from ten to five. I’m the assistant manager.”

  “The medical examiner believes Prisha was killed between midnight and three a.m. Monday morning,” Winston said. “Do you have an alibi?”

  “I was here asleep.” CeCe grimaced. “I go to bed around ten. You can ask the other tenants and they’ll say I was here.”

  “Okay.” Connie stood, straightening the bedspread. “We will.”

  ****

  “Mr. Banerjee, it’s so nice to meet you.” Winston took Prisha’s father’s hand as soon as he and Connie walked into the interrogation room.

  “Please, call me Nilan.” He had a firm, baritone voice that suggested power and authority.