by Cat Gilbert
We had been in the middle of a severe weather alert. Tornado watches were in effect and violent storms were passing through the area. Keith was heading back into town when a monster weather cell broke loose with a torrential downpour. He had lost control of the car on the bridge, a fact I still had trouble reconciling, and had crashed over the guard rail. With the storms, the Arkansas River was swollen and the current deadly. A witness reported the car had gone over, but with the flooding waters, rescue attempts were delayed and before I could begin to contemplate the possibility that he might be gone, the rescue mission status was changed to one of recovery. The search went on for weeks, the banks and river combed for miles down river. Neither the car nor Keith’s body had ever been recovered. The river had taken them. If not for the witness who saw the accident and the marks on the guard rail, I would have never known what had happened. He would have just vanished.
I had a hard time not breaking down every time I saw a BMW for months after that. The black BMW 325i is a very popular car in Little Rock and they seemed to be everywhere. I knew Keith was gone, but still, each time I saw the car, my breath caught and I looked, searching for the drivers face. Now, over a year after his death, I had quit searching, but still... I always noticed the car and I always remembered, the car a constant reminder. This was the second or third one I’d seen this morning and the day was still early.
Maybe it was because of that and the emotional roller coaster yesterday, but I found myself slipping into the past. The feeling of loss and loneliness that assaults you when your guard is down. Keith and I hadn’t been together for that long, but we had been so close. I had been working hard, minding my own business and suddenly, one day, there he was, right out of the blue. I had my career, good friends, dated when I felt like it or had time, which truthfully wasn’t often. I was happy and things were going great.
If he hadn’t happened into the picture, I would have never known the difference. But he had. It’s amazing how everything changes, how, although hard, life gets easier, dreams become bigger and the routine of life takes on new meaning when you find someone to share it with. Oh, I had Trinity, and she was and is so important, but it’s not the same as the person you know you’ll be with for life. The person you work with to accomplish something together. Keith understood my need to help people, to stick up for the little guy, to stop the bullies in life. To the outside world, I was cool, confident, logical. Keith knew me better than that. He held me when I failed, and cried for the child I was too late to save. Rejoiced with me in the little victories like discovering a clue that reopened a case that had been considered hopeless. He knew how I doubted myself, my ability to make sense of the mess, my fear of being too late to make a difference. He knew the Taylor that I kept hidden from the world and loved me anyway. My dreams, my fears, my needs. Things even Trinity didn’t know about. Now he was gone. Ripped out of my life almost as fast as he appeared in it.
I was left to pick up the pieces.That meant dealing with yesterday on my own and I had to admit, I hadn’t done a very good job of it. I had fallen apart, badly, and scared Trinity in the process. Keith was gone, and I had to handle this one on my own. Trinity would be there to help. No, she wasn’t Keith. No one was, but at least I wasn’t alone in this.
Resolved, I pushed the pedal down and took a last glance in the rear view at the BMW as I sped down 430 to the I-30 interchange and my first appointment.
FOUR
“SO WHAT YOU’RE saying, after spending all night researching, is that you still don’t know the answer? Have I got that right?”
Trinity forked up a chunk of pork along with some lettuce. We had both gotten pulled pork salads. Honestly I don’t know why we bother with the salad part, or rather, why I did. Trinity was into eating healthy and she wore it well. On the occasion that she did drop off the healthy wagon, she tried to counteract it with eating something nourishing along with it. Like salads with pizza. Salad with pulled pork. I just didn’t see the point. Lettuce was just more calories and a waste of space in this case. The smoked pork was spiced perfectly and so tender it was hard to keep on your fork. Unlike Trinity, I had eaten most mine off the top and left the lettuce sitting there.
“That pretty much sums it up.” I had managed to pull up quite a bit of information on the internet. My first discovery being that my possible ‘mind moving’ skill was technically called telekinesis, a form of psychokinesis. Although I feel my label was more descriptive, I found the term psycho was appropriate or at least in my case I thought it was.
Uri Geller was perhaps the best known person who appeared to have the ability. He was the guy I remembered seeing on television. He did indeed bend spoons with his mind, but he wasn’t from Tibet and he could never replicate his ability in a scientific setting. Science fiction literature and movies were rife with talented people who threw things around at will, but whether or not it was a real ability, remained to be proven. Many claim to have it and there’re even videos of them passing the ‘spinning the pencil on the bottle’ test on the web, but I found just as much information refuting the test results, saying air movement from heating and cooling systems does the same thing. After hours of combing the far reaches of the internet, all I had to show for it was the name, some history and the fact that there is no proof Telekinesis exists. But there was no proof it didn’t exist either.
“I’m in the same boat as yesterday,” I confirmed, rooting around in the lettuce hunting for more pork. “Either I have Telekinesis or I’m crazy.”
“Or the guy threw the coffee on you. The keys could be just coincidence.” Her comment brought my gaze up in disbelief, distracting me from my pork search, but she was completely serious.
I wished he had thrown the coffee at me. How neat and tidy would that be? But that’s not what happened. I hadn’t imagined the look of horror on his face when it happened or the anger that followed when he was blamed. I also hadn’t imagined the calculating gaze he’d leveled at me or the feeling I’d had that he knew what was going on. I wasn’t sure where or if he fit into the picture, but I knew he hadn’t thrown the coffee. I had so totally crossed that possibility off the list that it never even occurred to me that Trinity was still hanging onto it.
“That’s not what happened. Why would some guy I’ve never seen before, throw coffee at me?” It wasn’t so much the words as the tone of my voice that set her off. Even to me, I had sounded incredulous that she would even think such a thing, and I winced as soon as the words were out of my mouth.
“I have no idea,” she shot back, obviously offended, “but what’s the likelihood of you suddenly developing Telekinesis? You’re good, Taylor, but you are not infallible. You may have read the whole thing wrong. I’m just saying, there could be something there. It is the most likely explanation.”
Snap and ow! Where had that come from? In all the years I had worked with and known Trinity, she had never doubted my judgement. Oh, we have more than our share of disagreements, but where my work is concerned, she has always trusted me. Now, not only was she questioning my judgement, she was downright insulting me. I know I’m not infallible, but really, who needs their best friend pointing it out. I may have been out of things yesterday, but I was back on top today. Okay, maybe not on top, but way better than I had been.
Confused, I just sat there staring at her, nursing my wounded pride, while she glared back at me. She was more than offended. She was downright angry. There was something more going on and I racked my brain trying to sort through the possible excuses that were rushing through my mind, when suddenly, comprehension dawned. I snapped my mouth shut and sat back, finally understanding.
She might have said it was the most likely explanation, but what she really meant was it was the explanation she could accept. Good friend that she was, she’d rather think the coffee incident was the result of a vindictive stalker than think that I was losing my mind, or had developed some sort of weird super power that there was no proof actually even existed. It did
sound pretty far out there, even to me and I had experienced it firsthand. She hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen it what happened. As hard as this was for me to contemplate, it had to be nearly impossible for her. She was desperate for a logical explanation and I was usually the one to give it her. I felt my heart sink, because I was fairly certain that this time, logic had little if anything to do with it. I was going to disappoint her if that’s what she was looking for and I just had to hope she could forgive me for it.
“OK. I agree. There might be something there,” I hedged, choosing to use her own words, as they were obtuse enough for my purpose. It wasn’t exactly a lie. True, my idea of how he might be involved was completely different from hers, but there wasn’t any point in bringing it up and getting in a bigger argument. I weighed my guilt over the small deception and decided I could live with it. I gave her a small smile, hoping to reassure her. “I’ll look into it.”
From the cocky look she threw me, it was obvious she thought she had just solved the whole mystery. I knew better, but she was happy for now and there was no reason to rain on her parade until I had honed in on what was really going on. My working theory was that if you couldn’t find an obvious answer right off the bat, the best thing to do was start eliminating the alternatives until you could pin it down. Finding out where Denzel fit into this be a good start.
On a better footing, now that I had agreed to take a better look at Denzel, I thought it prudent to change the subject. I filled her in on the latest information I had obtained on our current case and then Trinity and I made plans for dinner at her grandmother’s after church on Sunday.
Trinity’s grandmother, or Mama D, as she was known to those of us who loved her, had pretty much adopted me into the family when I started working with Trinity. She always made sure I had at least one home cooked meal a week and was the only person I knew that could tell you what to do without you realizing she was doing it. I was convinced Trinity got her tricky lawyer ways from Mama D, but Trinity didn’t see it. Good as Trinity was, Mama D could wrap her around her little finger and Trinity always thought it was her own idea. It was a joy to behold when it was happening to someone else. I couldn’t complain though. Mama D had what I called “wise ways”. She would impart her wisdom and leave it to you to accept it or not, happy to help pick up the pieces when you chose wrongly.
When Trinity had graduated law school and started making some decent money, one of the first things she had done was get Mama D a house all her own. Nothing fancy. Mama D wouldn’t like that. But a cute little house. Neat and tidy with a nice front porch and a swing out front, it was close enough to the old neighborhood that Mama D could visit with her friends, but far enough away to put the memories of barely scraping by and living on welfare behind them. Back then, her brother, Kevin was still alive. He and Trinity had planted trees and bushes and painted the house a pretty pale yellow with black shutters and a red door. Mama D had retired from her multiple jobs and spent her days gardening, gossiping and feeding other people. Namely me, who, she was convinced, was wasting away to nothing but skin and bones although in my opinion, I could easily drop 5 to 10 pounds and still look quite healthy. Sunday dinner was her opportunity to ply me with fabulous temptations and I was totally happy to give her a free hand. I wasn’t much for cooking and didn’t give much thought to food, so I could easily make up for the calorie onslaught the following week and be ready for the next Mama D meal.
I assured Trinity I would be there with bells on and headed back to my car, leaving her obsessing over some candlesticks she had spotted in the shop window next to the restaurant. By the time I got the car door open and was settled inside, my mind was already on my next stop and I had pretty much put the whole Telekinesis thing on the back burner.
FIVE
MY APPOINTMENT EARLIER in the morning with the witness had turned up some interesting information. I was working on finding a divorced Dad, who had taken a hike on his child support and alimony. Trinity became involved when dear old Dad skipped. Ignore a court order and it becomes a crime. A divorce lawyer may get your money, but a criminal lawyer will get your rear thrown in jail.
Trinity works on enough big money cases that she can afford to do some pro bono work and this was one of those cases. If you can’t afford to put food on the table, you sure can’t afford a lawyer to find dear old dad. I can’t afford to work for free, so Trinity pays me the same for the pro bono work as she does for the big money cases, it just comes out of her pocket. In return, I try to keep expenses down, which was why I was headed back to my condo to make some calls rather than heading to Atlanta myself.
I was back out on Cantrell heading into the downtown area, when I noticed the black BMW two cars back in the next lane. That made, what? Four of them this morning. Arkansas doesn’t require a front plate, so there was no way of telling whether this was the same car or not, but being in my line of work, you learn to pay attention. I didn’t know if I was being super sensitive and noticing the car more because of my emotional attachment or if I had picked up a tail, but I like to play it safe. Safety first, that’s my motto. I cranked the Ford over to the left lane and caught the on ramp to I-30.
The car behind me stayed to the right. I watched the BMW cut left and follow me onto the highway. I sped up and cut right, just making the 630 exit heading west. It would take me past the Children’s Hospital, and o nto Chenal Parkway. Little Rock is not a small town, but it’s not large either. If it’s not rush hour, the only place you can count on bad traffic was the Chenal Parkway/Bowman area. I needed traffic to lose the tail and hopefully come back behind to get a plate. I glanced back and sure enough, he was with me on 630. As I passed the University exit and the zoo, I went over who might be following me. I had one active case right now, which I had started the leg work on this morning. If I was right, I had picked up the tail right first thing, before I had interviewed anyone. If Trinity hadn’t told anyone I was working the case, meaning Max Drummond, the husband’s lawyer, then I didn’t see how the BMW tied into the case. I used my bluetooth to call Trinity.
“What’s up? I’m at the check-out.”
“Did you tell anyone I was on the case yet? Drummond maybe?” I changed lanes and signaled for the exit at Baptist Hospital and watched as the beamer moved into position three cars back to follow.
“What? Let that jerk know I had an investigator hunting his client? You know better than that. Why? What’s going on?” I had her full attention now as I passed the exit without slowing, the Beamer right behind me.
“I have a tail. Black BMW 325i – no front plate. I’m on 630 crossing 430 now onto Financial.”
“Head back to me!” Trinity practically screamed in my ear. “I’ll get his plate when you drive by. I’m heading to the car now.”
I looked down at her number on my screen and frowned at her through the phone. This seemed a bad idea to me on many levels. First of all, if it was a tail, how stupid would the guy have to be to not figure out I was making a big circle. I was betting as soon as I headed back onto Cantrell, he’d pull off. Second, and more importantly, I hated getting Trinity involved. I was low profile and kept to the shadows. Very few people knew me or what I did and that worked well for me. Trinity was anything but low profile. She was regularly in the news, in the paper or at some function. If someone was interested in me, I could hide, but Trinity stood out like a sore thumb.
That being said, unless I called the police or managed to lose him and sneak up behind him, my chances of getting his plate were slim to none. I could always stop at a light and run back and confront him, but that was a good way to get shot and I tried to avoid putting myself in those situations as much as possible.
“No,” I told Trinity, making my decision. “You head my way. I’ll head into the bookstore. You come into the parking lot from the Parkway entrance and park on the end facing the exit. Call me when you’re in place and I’ll leave and pull out that way so you can see the plate if he follows me out.”
/> Trinity agreed and said she was on her way. I came off the highway onto the Parkway and within minutes, was in the book store parking lot. I drove around, taking my time to find a space big enough for the Expedition. I had the extended length on it so I was bigger and higher than most anything else on the road making me easy to see. The size and big V-8 engine meant I paid at the pump, but it was a comfort to know I could also run over almost anything I needed to and live to tell about it. Not that I ran over things on purpose. It was just good to know I could. The Tank, which is what I affectionately called my vehicle of choice, was my own personal security blanket.
As innocently as I could, I gathered up my bag and headed into book store. I managed to turn at the display at the door in time to catch the BMW glide past, out of the corner of my eye. Satisfied I wasn’t imagining things, I headed in and then straight to the left to the attached snack shop, where I could get a cup of coffee and keep an eye on the parking lot at the same time without looking suspicious. Within minutes, my phone rang.
“I’m here” Trinity was breathless, a hint of excitement in her voice. I frowned at the phone again, not pleased. Someone was enjoying this way too much.
“I know. I see you,” I replied. “He’s here, parked by the toy store facing west. I’m coming out the coffee shop door now.” I grabbed a discarded newspaper and took it and my coffee through the door and out into the sunshine, hoping my tail wouldn’t get suspicious at the fast in and out.
I jumped up into the drivers seat, secured the coffee and fastened my seat belt. I hadn’t decided yet on the plan for after Trinity got the plate number, but I knew it involved losing this guy. I took a deep breath, pulled out of the parking spot and rolled past Trinity to the exit. Glancing in the rearview, I watched the BMW slide into place two cars behind me.
