I stood and looked down at my hands. The bandages were gone, and fresh scars were in the middle of both palms, the wounds fully healed. I turned my hands over and saw a matching pair on the back side. I placed a hand to my chest and felt the tenderness of my scar. It was no dream.
Looking around, I recognized the giant statue of Columbus in the clearing between two trees and knew immediately I was in Central Park, then patted my pockets. The bone dagger was in one pocket, and my phone, wallet, and keys were in the other. I pulled my phone from my pocket and frowned when I saw I had over fifty missed calls and texts. I unlocked it, but before I could review a single one, I noticed the date and froze—five days had passed.
~ * * * ~
“Oh thank God, Darien. Where were you?” Fati’s voice cracked over the phone, then grew hard. “Where the hell have you been? Me and Dj have been worried sick. Dammit, where the hell are you?”
“I’m heading home now. I’ll explain everything when I get there.”
"Oh you're gonna have to do better than that. You had better have a damn good explanation, the best miracle of an excuse ever, or you might as well stay with whoever the hell you've been with."
“Baby, it’s not like that. I’ll explain—” my phone beeped. “Hold on one sec. I’m getting another call.”
“Oh no the hell I will not ho—”
“Hello?”
“Darien!” Rhonda’s voice all but shrieked in my ear. “You finally have the nerve to pick up!”
“Ugh…I’m sorry, I know I’ve been absent without notice. I got very sick, maybe a summer flu or something.”
“The hell with that. Your portfolio is almost wiped out. You need to explain yourself right now.”
“What?!”
There was a long pause, and I thought for a second we might have gotten disconnected when Rhonda came back on the line. “I…am going to pretend that you only sound like you don’t know what the hell has been going on with your accounts. Every client you have has not only come into the office this week, but has filed formal complaints with FINRA and the SEC, and both have scheduled immediate audits.”
I froze in my tracks. What the hell did Red do? I needed time to understand what all had happened. But the reality is we weren’t doing anything illegal. So no matter what was going on, I knew I could fix it. I pulled the phone away from my face to check the screen; it was almost three in the afternoon. “Okay, I will be there first thing in the morning. Everything will be just fi—”
"Darien, you don't understand the situation you are in, and in turn, have placed the firm in. Our stock has dropped almost twenty-five percent over the course of this week. We've been all over the news; they are calling you the new Madoff and the firm the new fucking Lehman Brothers. Our board of directors is already calling for us to fire you, and the only reason why I haven't done so yet is because I'm giving you a chance to clean this shit up, so I don't ruin my career. You will come into the office today or not only will you be fired, but we will launch our own internal audit, and if we find even a penny out of place, a single improper transaction, we will pursue full legal action.”
The line went dead, and I placed my hand on my forehead. "Fuck!"
“You put me on hold again, Darien, and you will certainly be fucked!”
My eyes widened. I forgot Fatima was still on the line. "Babe that was my job. Some major fuckups need to be cleaned up. I'll be home in minutes. I'm walking across the park now."
“Whatever you need to do, Darien, but you had better be home when I get there.”
“Okay, Fatima. I’ll see you when I get home, bye.”
“Dari—”
I hung up the call and started running. I could see the top of my building from my position in the park. I just needed to change from these—I frowned as I took a good look at my clothes for the first time. I was wearing blue jeans easily two sizes too big and stiff like a new pair, and a dull grey sweatshirt that was easily three sizes too big. My shoes, at least, were the same pair that I had on when I left the apartment.
I had made it to my building in under fifteen minutes and somehow didn’t take note of the look Cedric had on his face as I approached, but did when he stopped me short as I tried to sprint into the building. He was about to speak when recognition flashed in his eyes, and then he waved me inside, eyes wide and jaw slack. I thought it was the oddest encounter I'd ever had with the man but soon understood why, when I was halfway into my suit and glanced at myself in the mirror for the first time, stopping cold in my tracks, mouth wide.
Somehow I had avoided any real damage from the flames—no burns or permanent disfigurement, and the lingering pain that I felt when I had first awakened in the small room with old Bezi had disappeared entirely, but my hair was all gone. And not just the hair on my head, but my brows and lashes too. I looked like a completely different person.
I finally pulled myself away from the mirror and cleared my throat. “Hey, Gordon. Dial Karl.”
I heard the virtual keypad begin to dial out through the speakers inside of the bathroom and start to ring. As I walked from there to my bedroom, the speaker switched to the embedded speakers in the ceiling of that room. The line connected. “Darien! It’s good to have you back, young blood. Are you alright?”
“Karl, I’m fine. Can you be here in ten minutes? I need to get to the office asap.”
"I'll be right there," Karl said—and that was it. No questions. No prying. It was just another reason why I appreciated having the old man around.
I pulled my arms through the sleeves of my shirt and grabbed a tie from my drawer without bothering to do either properly, then headed for the elevator. By the time the elevator arrived, and I made it down to the garage, I was at least presentable. And true to his word, Karl was standing beside the open passenger door of the Maybach as soon as the elevator doors opened, waiting for me to step inside.
He held the door open for me as I stepped inside, not even glancing twice at my appearance, and we were off the moment he entered the driver seat. He cracked the partition. “Ay, Young Blood, about that security detail of yours…”
I sighed. "Let me guess; the firm stopped providing the resource?"
“Yes, but I can do a little bit of research on so—”
The car stopped short, and I flew forward, crashing hard into the chair facing me on the opposite side of the car and then lurching again to the floor. I slowly picked myself up on the ground and back into my chair. “Karl, what…”
My words cut short as I saw what happened out of my window. A black vehicle cut in front of us just as we were exiting the garage, taking up most of the sidewalk. I frowned as a pair of middle-aged men with matching Yankees caps and faded jeans stepped out of the vehicle and approached my car from opposite sides.
When they reached into their blue tee-shirts shirts at the same time, I heard Karl shift the car into reverse. But before he could pull back into the building, they both pulled an NYPD shield from inside of their shirts, and Karl froze. One walked over to the driver side window and started talking in a voice barely louder than a whisper. The other continued around to my side and tapped on my window.
I rolled down the window, and the officer leaned into the car. "Darien Winfield?"
I frowned. “Yes?”
“Step out of the vehicle.”
“What?”
“Step out of the vehicle. You’re under arrest.”
“What? Arrest?”
“Sir, I need you to comply right now. Step out of the car.”
“Listen. I haven’t committed any fraudulent transactions. I’m heading to the office right now to straighten things out.”
“Frauds? Looks like you're incriminating yourself. But before you go on confessing to any more crimes, let me first read you your rights, so it's all admissible."
“Confessing…what are you talking about?”
The officer tested the handle and grew frustrated when it didn’t open. “I’ve asked you twice alre
ady. Last time now. Step out of the vehicle, and keep your hands where we can see them.” The officer raised his index finger into the air and twirled it around, looking over his shoulder.
I noticed the other cars then—a half dozen other black Lincoln Town Cars blocking off the entire sidewalk. Craning my head down the street, I saw one at the far end of the block, cutting off any incoming cars. On the sidewalk was dozens of uniform officers approaching, guns drawn. The officer gave me that time to take it all in and realize the severity of the situation, and when I made eye contact with him again, he nodded.
I sighed and opened the door, and the officer grabbed my wrist before I could even step out. Slowly, I stepped out of the car and volunteered my own hands behind my back.
“Do you have any weapons on you?” The officer asked as he placed the cuffs on my wrists.
I hesitated, remembering Ms. Bezi's dagger—a weapon longer than the six-inch legal limit for knives in the city—but spotted it out of the corner of my eye on the seat in the car, thankfully having fallen out of my pocket. "No," I said, shifting slightly to put myself between the officer and the window.
The officer paused, picking up on my hesitation. "Understand that if you lie to me, and either me or one of my officers injure ourselves, you're going to be in a world of trouble. One last time, do you have any weapons on you?"
I shook my head.
“Good. You’re under arrest for murder and aggravated assault.”
My heart dropped to my belly. “What? Murder? Assault? No, no, no, there is some kind of mistake here.”
He shoved me towards the waiting car that had cut us off. "Understand that anything you say may be used in the court of law. You have a right to an attorney.
CHAPTER TEN
THE DOOR OPENED, and I woke from an uncomfortable sleep, sitting up straight on the hard, metal chair. My arm had gone numb from being cuffed to the metal desk at such an awkward angle. But after so many hours of waiting—I glanced up at the large clock on the otherwise bare wall; nine to be exact—sleep had found me anyway.
"Mr. Winfield." Said officer McCann, the same middle-aged fat guy wearing the same ridiculous skinny tie that hung an annoying three inches above his belt.
I sighed. “I already told you.”
"Yes, yes. You don't want to say anything until your lawyer gets here." This time instead of leaving as he had done each time he had come into the small room before, he took a seat in the chair across from me and placed a laptop on the table. "I need to tell you, because I'm such a nice guy and all, that you should probably talk to us now. Trust me, buddy, you're not going anywhere. In fact, I'd suggest you get used to rooms like this."
"I want to call my lawyer," I said again, prepared to ignore whatever slick talk he would try to throw my way. I recalled the meetings that Red insisted I take with the lawyer at the time we retained her, and had to admit I was begrudgingly thankful for the lessons. “No matter what,” she always insisted, "never, ever, talk to the police without me. I don't care if you didn't do whatever you’re charged with and you plan to tell nothing but the truth, waving your fifth amendment right almost always does more harm than good. All it takes is for you to misremember a small detail, the officer to misremember something you said when he writes his report, or for the police to have a witness that misremembers you being at a place you said you weren't, and you're fucked. You see, the jury looks at anyone on the defense side of the courtroom and automatically thinks he had to do something to put himself there. Never wave your fifth amendment rights."
The officer laughed. “You already called your lawyer. Remember?” He laughed again. “Big shots like you think you can just open your wallet and make the world stop spinning huh? You guys make the easiest cases to solve, you know. The rich and powerful. And you know why? Because you get sloppy.”
I settled back into the chair. “What happened to nice officer McCann that offered me the cigarettes, the coffee, the lap dance?”
“That officer McCann’s patience ran out a few hours ago. So how about this.” The officer opened the laptop and began typing.
“Already told you. I will not cooperate without my lawyer, officer McCann.”
“Okay, Darien. I’ll be sure to let the D.A. know just how cooperative you’ve been in the process.” He finished typing on the keyboard and looked back up at me. “I tell you what…I’ll show you a few things, alright. Now, feel free to chime in at any time. We've played this game many times with guys who took care to cover their tracks at least a little bit."
“I get it. You’re the bad cop now. Don’t you guys usually have a partner to feed off of, officer? Is your department that underfunded?”
“A comedian. But there ain’t nothing funny about this." He spun the laptop around, and there were two full-screen photos side-by-side of two guys. One had a black eye and several other bruises on his face. The other guy had an ugly cut across the bridge of his nose and was missing his two front teeth. "These guys look familiar to you, Darien?"
I had never seen either of them before, but I didn't answer. I looked at the screen in silence.
He turned the laptop around, pressed a couple of keys, and began to read. “Both have fractured skulls. Guy with the shiner there also had a broken arm, and he got the better deal out the two of ‘em. The other guy got it worse: broken collarbone and a lacerated kidney to go with severe internal bleeding. They are both still in comas. And if either dies, it will be another count of murder for you.”
There was a pause, and after almost a full minute of waiting for me to respond, officer McCann nodded and turned the laptop back around to me. “Okay. How about her? She look familiar?”
There was a flash of recognition as a vaguely familiar face came up on the screen. Her dark brown skin had a deep bruise on her cheekbone, and a large area on her forehead and nose had been scraped raw.
“Oh, you recognize her.”
“I never said I recognized her.”
“So you’re saying you don’t recognize her then? Is that what you’re saying, buddy?”
"I…" I began but held my tongue. I took a deep breath and then relaxed.
"You recognized her. I could tell. It was all over your face, so clearly I think I might give the surveillance video from this room to the D.A. as evidence.”
I glanced around the room and noticed the camera mounted to the ceiling above the door on the far wall right across from me.
“Yeah, that’s it right there. Got another one behind you too. But don’t worry, I highly doubt it will be necessary. We’ve got more than enough on you.”
“If you’ve got all the evidence you’ll need, why are you here in front of me?”
There was a pause, and then Officer McCann’s face grew serious. “I’ve worn the uniform for over fifteen years, Darien. I’ve seen many of the worst aspects of what sick people can produce. I’ve become used to it. It doesn’t shock me anymore, because in a weird way, I’ve come to understand the way broken people think. See, that’s the thing I still struggle with, Darien. The why…”
He paused again for a response, but I stayed silent and returned the same expectant look to him that he was giving me. I’d already said more than I had planned without my lawyer. He wasn’t going to get another word out of me.
His serious expression turned into anger. “Why, Darien? Did you have to beat two guys unconscious, brutally assault a defenseless woman, who just so happened to turn up dead within a week, by the way, and then kill another guy the same night?” Officer McCann slammed his hand down on the tabletop. “Oh, my mistake, I didn’t show you the last victim.”
Officer McCann spun the laptop back around to him, typed a few keystrokes, and when he turned it back around, it took me a moment to understand it was a mutilated face I was looking at, with both eyes swollen shut and knots and other swelling around the face and head so bad it hardly looked possible in real life. But—I leaned forward and studied the face—something was familiar about the man.
My eyes shot open wide as I recalled our encounter with Chocolate inside the stall. If she were indeed dead, then my DNA would put me there at the scene without question. I shook my head and wiped the sweat from my brow. What if she would have claimed I raped her? Fuck, who would believe I didn't, when the man she showed up with was beaten to death? I shifted in my seat as my mind reeled, trying to think of any way to prove my innocence.
“That’s why I’m here, Darien. The girl was the only one that walked out of that alley. Well, really, she crawled out, broken and bloody.”
I froze, and my mind blanked. Did he just say alley?
“But you couldn't just let her go, could you? This isn’t part of your formal charges yet, but I’d imagine it will be by this time tomorrow, so I want you to tell me why you waited almost an entire week?”
“What do you mean?” I said through heavy breaths. Too much of what Officer McCann was saying jived a little too well with what actually happened.
“Come on, Darien. Just level with me will ya. She disappeared a couple of days ago, the day after she filed a police report. We looked for her all the way until this morning when we found her. But here’s what I don’t understand, Darien…why dump her back in the same alley? Did the guilt catch up to you and make you want to get yourself caught? I’ve seen a lot of you fucks like that.”
Red Lineage Page 13
