“Darien?” Anna said, setting her copy of the plea deal down in front of her and closing the folder. “I need to know what you’re going to do. It’s time to decide.”
"Don't gotta go out like this, D. Fuck what you think about me, think about DJ. Think about Fatima. I'm willin' to give you back the things you love most in this world, the very things I've always tried to protect for you."
My tapping picked up to a furious pace, the pen a blur of speed.
“Darien? Do you need me to go over anything with you again? It is the best option we are going to get.”
"Come on, D. This bitch even thinks you did it. Look at how she looks at you—can barely mask her disgust. She'd probably walk off the case if she could, and you know it. And don't think that ain't how every fuckin' member of the jury is gonna look at you-you gotta know this. But it can all go away. All you gotta do is let me help you, and in exchange, I will leave you alone, completely—sever our tether.
“Darien?”
My hand stopped, and I put the pen down on the page, then slowly pushed the folder back over to her.
“My man. You’re finally bein’ rational.” He laughed, and I had to bite down hard and clench my jaw tight to avoid making any facial expressions Ashley could see.
“Now tell her to have the police present the warrants they obtained to get the video footage for both tapes.”
I squinted my eyes as I considered the question even as I spoke. “The warrants.”
“Excuse me?”
“The warrants, Ashley.”
“Anita…”
“Whatever.” I waved the distraction away with a flick of my hand. “I need you to review the warrants.”
She frowned, but I could see the gears turning in the expression on her face. "There's a chance they might not have followed proper due process." She paused again, and this time sat up. "The way they presented the evidence, it was so overwhelming it would be beyond lucky for you and comically foolish for them, to not go through the proper means..."
"You're welcome," Red said.
When I looked over to him, he was gone. I stared at the spot he had just been, wondering if it was possible that something like that, something so simple, would really be able to get me out of this mess.
~ * * * ~
I walked down the short stone steps of the precinct in numb shock and stopped at the base to look back up at the grey building. I was a free man, but I still couldn’t believe it. The video was all of the evidence they had. And somehow, it was determined that both were obtained illegally, and was therefore inadmissible in court. Whatever Red did worked.
I had spent three days in that precinct, but after that single conversation with the public defender, she went back out for only a couple of hours at most. And when she returned she had tears in her eyes as she congratulated me on my freedom. She stepped out of the cell and before she even made it out of earshot, placed a call. A moment later I heard her offer her resignation, and then the loud clack as she dropped her briefcase on the floor.
I sighed as I finally turned away from the precinct and didn’t even make it ten feet down the empty early morning sidewalk when I heard a voice call my name. I turned around to see officer McCann hurrying down the stairs, damn near running to catch up with me. His face was a mask of fury.
“I still don’t know how the fuck you did it.” He pressed his finger into my chest. “But you had better believe I’ll spend the rest of my career working day and night to bring you down. Remember that buddy. There is no statute of limitations on murder.”
I turned and walked away, but I could still hear Officer McCann shouting down the block after me.
"No statute! When that day comes, I'll be there. I hope that makes you sleep comfortably at night. You hear me, scumbag? You're rotten. Goddammit!" The large metal trash bin near the curb hit the ground and filled the air with a coarse grinding as it rolled to a stop. “You hear me? Do you hear me?”
I let his raging voice get drowned out by the sounds of the busy city. Red came through, and if what he promised was true, the bonus on top would be the fact that I was not tethered to him anymore. That alone would make everything I experienced in that precinct worth it. Regardless of what happens with the SEC investigation, I dodged the biggest bullet. I'd rebuild any lost wealth on my own if I had to. Right now, I just needed to get home.
A car pulled up in front of me as I made it to the corner, causing me to jump back out of reflex. I frowned as I regained my balance, but then my face lit up when I got a look at the car. The driver side door opened, and Karl stepped out of the vehicle and made his way around to the passenger side.
“Karl? What are you doing here, old man?” I couldn’t hide the smile on my face.
Karl had a somber look on his face. “You’ve been all over the news, young blood. It’s how I knew where to find ya.”
"How bad are we talkin'?" I asked but wasn't sure I wanted to know.
Karl opened the door, and I stepped inside of the first bit of comfort I'd felt all weekend. I waited for him to close the door, walk back around, re-enter the driver side, and then roll down the partition.
He adjusted the mirror so I could get a full view of his face. “First it was just your financial dealings. People calling you the new Wolf of Wallstreet and that kinda jive. Actually wasn’t so bad then. But then them online media outlets started spreading rumors that you were arrested for a whole lot of crazy charges.”
“Shit. Am I on the cover of the papers?”
Karl shrugged. “Don’t nobody read them papers, young blood.”
I laughed at the irony of the old man having to remind me of that. “Take me home would you?”
Karl nodded, adjusted the mirror slightly so he could adequately see the rear window as well since the partition was currently down, then pulled off. "Was actually worse than the papers anyway. Story started showing up in social media posts, and was even trending online."
“What do you know about social media, old man?”
Karl laughed. “I got that last bit off news, young blood. But figured it might be important info for you. Anyway, once I saw the story on the news, I started calling around and found where they were keeping you. Been checking in a few times a day.”
“Karl I…” I paused, not quite knowing what to say, and a little surprised at my sudden emotion. “I really appreciate it. You have a knack for always being in the right place at the right time for me.”
“Ain’t no thing, young blood. Got the whole world thinking you’re a monster; thought you might need some stability now.”
I nodded. “But what do you think?”
“About what exactly?”
“About my investigation, about the charges that were filed against me?”
“Deloris asked me the same question that night we saw the story and heard the details. So I’ll tell you like I told her: fact that I’m a driver don’t make me no less of a human being. And I wouldn’t be willing, or able, to pull up my pants and lace my shoes to go work for no monster.” He paused. “You ain’t perfect, but you ain’t no monster neither.”
I went quiet, and as usual, Karl knew just when to back off. He waited about a minute and then raised the partition back up.
I pulled the phone out of my pocket and tried to power it on, but it was dead. I could have connected it to the port in the car to charge but decided against it, accepting the much-needed moment of peace of mind. I wasn't quite ready to open the world of headache Fati was sure to bring, especially given the fact that I hadn't made it home as she told me to after leaving the old women's house.
Instead, I settled back into the plush seat, then felt a stiff jab at my back. I reached behind me and felt the bone dagger, still on the seat where I'd left it. I pulled it forward and turned it over, getting a good look at it for the first time. It was unassuming at best, looking like nothing more than a crude weapon, the sort that could easily be on display inside a museum. But Red did say he couldn't detec
t me for the past week, so Bezi had spoken truth about its capabilities.
But was the dagger even needed anymore? Red said he would sever our tether as part of his bargain. But I had no way of knowing if he had already done it, or even planned on following through with it. I felt the same as before.
It didn't matter. Either Red would hold up his end of the bargain or I'd be invisible to him—it was all the same to me. On that thought, I exhaled and shifted my thoughts to where we would live now that we got the chance to begin anew.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I STEPPED OFF the elevator and into the apartment and knew something was wrong. It was quiet, but it wasn't just the silence, because Fati would already be at work and DJ out with the nanny. No, something I couldn't quite put a finger on was off, and that made me step further into the apartment with caution.
The lights were out, but the rays of the morning sun were beaming into the eastern windows, illuminating most of the room and making it easy enough to see. I swept through the living room at a brisk walk, eyes darting in every direction, my heart pounding harder inside my chest with each step.
When I made it to the bedroom, I stopped short, and my mind filled with confusion as our beautifully decorated room was now trashed. The closet doors were thrown open, and clothing was in piles on the floor, strewn across the bed, atop the dresser—some of which were still on hangers or still slightly folded. The dresser and nightstand drawers were all off their rails and upended, creating small piles of our items every few feet.
I walked to the center of the room and made a slow circle, fighting the mounting panic, trying to gauge what I was seeing. Did this only happen today, and I the first to see it? Could it have happened days ago, and Fati is scared to come home? My heart sank; could she or DJ have been hurt, kidnapped, or worse? I looked for signs of struggle, but the room was so bad I wouldn’t be able to determine one way or the other.
“Gordon, dial Fatima.” There was a pattern of beeps as the computer acknowledged the request, and then the phone began ringing. It rang out and went to voicemail, and I crouched down and picked up a family photo at my feet, hands trembling. I mentally went back to the day we had taken it. We were at the beach, just Fati, DJ, and me, and then tears filled my eyes. There could be thousands of dollars worth of items stolen or damaged in this room alone, but it was that photo that I held on to, thankful for having it.
I wiped my eyes with a sleeve and rushed from our room, down the hall, and into DJ's. It was just as bad, with clothes and toys everywhere. I took a deep breath and tried calling Fati again. This time it rang twice before going to voicemail.
I had continued assessing the damages for a few moments, then froze with a frown. I had been sent to voicemail that time. I called again; this time the call went straight to the voicemail recording.
They've been kidnapped…someone has her phone…has them.
I dialed 911 as I began running through the house, looking for…anything, something. I didn't know what I was doing but felt standing still was the equivalent of standing by while my family was in dire need of me.
I must have gone back and forth to each room at least twice before the operator came on the line. “Nine-one-one what’s your emergency?”
"Hello, hello. I need help. They're gone—my family, I think someone has them—I called, and it rang out the first time, but I called back again, and it rang twice, and the last time it went straight to voicemail, which is a red flag because she never sends me to voicemail. Did I mention the house is trashed—everything, like a—"
“Sir, sir, please slow down. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
I took a deep breath, held it a moment, and then started over. "Someone broke into my apartment. The whole place is trashed, and now my family is missing." I found myself back in the living room pacing as I spoke.
I heard the sound of the keystrokes furiously clicking in the background. “What is your name and address, sir?”
“Darien Winfield.” I took another deep breath, tried to speak again, and then had to pause to take another while I undid the top button of my shirt, the room now feeling a little too small, despite its size.
“Darien…are you there?”
"Yeah, sorry," I said as I stepped out onto the terrace and took a deep breath of the warm summer air. "I live in The Grand Royal on Central Pa—"
The head of a single rose, dried and withered, peaked out from a shadow between the patio table I sat on every morning and the concrete barrier it rested against. I stepped close and pulled it free. The long stem had a sheet of white paper rolled around it, held together by a single piece of tape.
“Would that be the Grand Royal on Central Park West, sir?” The voice now came from the single speaker at the center of the table, grainier than the perfectly tuned acoustics back in the apartment.
I ignored the operator as I unwrapped the note, recognizing Fati’s beautiful penmanship, and began to read. I didn’t make it past the first line before staggered back into the glass wall that separated the terrace from the apartment.
The operator was saying something, but it wasn't important enough to focus on. Instead, I looked up at the bright blue morning sky and tried to somehow lie to myself that the rest of the note would somehow explain what she meant.
I'm not sure how long I stood there in numb shock, but the sun was halfway across the sky before I got the nerve to finish the note. But when I did, I read it again and again.
Goodbye Darien. I gave you everything. All of me. All of me! I was a wife before anything else in my life, Darien, before a head nurse, before a friend, before a daughter, before a mother. I was a wife! And a good one. You know this, and I know it, which is why I refuse to shed another tear for you. Know that I will not ask you for anything, because I built what I built on my own, and I’ve got my friends and my family. DJ and I will be just fine.
But, because of our years together, because of the love we shared, the child we share, whenever you read this, if ever you read this, just know that if you need anything, anything at all, fuck you, and call 212-555-3779.
-Your Wife
I frowned at the number. "Gordon, dial 212-555-3779."
“Dialing Cassandra…” The computer confirmed, and ringing sounded through the speakers as the computer dialed.
My eyes widened, and my heart sank to my stomach. "Gordon, hang up."
The emptiness I felt inside was hard to put into words. My entire world had just ended. In spite of everything I had been through recently, this was the lowest moment of my life by far.
Trembling, I stepped back inside and tried to call Fati again. Part of me hoped she wouldn't pick up the call so I wouldn't have to face her reaction head on. I needed her. I wasn't sure how, but I was determined to fix things, to restore my family.
Like before, the call went straight to voicemail. I tried her mother next, then her best friend, and then finally her work. Someone picked up at the hospital but only said their policy didn't allow unsolicited calls to hospital staff. That was bullshit, of course. I had called her countless times over the years and never once had a problem at least getting to her. I thought about showing up at the hospital, almost decided on it actually, but thought better of it. Bringing family matters to her place of work, if she was even there, would only make the pile of shit I had brought on myself deeper.
Out of options and not knowing anything better to do, I left my apartment and just walked. I didn’t know where I would go, or what I would do, but just kept going, getting swept up in the current of bodies moving through the muggy New York City streets.
It was a drop of water hitting my forehead that finally snapped me out of my head. I looked up at the sky and was shocked at how dark it had gotten already. It wasn't just the storm clouds rolling in either, a glance at my phone proved it was still almost dead. I grunted, annoyed at not letting it charge for any length of time, but noted it was well into the seven PM hour.
Another couple of drops h
it my head, then the sky opened up as the first flash of lightning struck, quickly followed by an explosive boom of thunder. I turned to the storefront on my immediate right and dashed for the door, noting the large sign written n Chinese characters. Glancing around at the nearby stores as I entered shocked me to see they too were written in the same Chinese characters; I had somehow made it all the way down to Chinatown.
Much the way summer storms go, the rain had already created cascades of water that obscured the outside world from the sheer force of rainfall. Thankfully, it was a bar I stepped inside of, though it was too small and grungy even to be considered a dive.
The best thing about the spot was the fact it was empty. Not a single other person was in the place aside from the squat senior man behind the counter, looking at me with an expression that made it clear he didn’t want me there. Too bad for both of us, because even though I didn’t want to be in his rank bar any more than he wanted me there, it beat getting soaked.
I settled into the first stool closest to the door and waited. The old man took his sweet ass time coming around to me. First, he organized the row of bottles behind him, which hadn't been touched in so long each bottle he adjusted left a visible ring of dust on the dark wood beneath. I watched him the entire time, but when he finally finished, he made brief eye contact with me, then turned towards the tap and took a disgusting rag strung over the nozzle of some shit I couldn't read, and slowly walked to the far end of the bar.
I waited as he buffed a small corner of the wood, sitting back on the stool and folding my hands on the table, watching until he finished.
He turned back around to me and sighed. “What you drink?”
"Manhattan," I said. He looked at me with a blank expression. I clenched my jaw. "Just give me something strong." But nothing that dirty ass rag touched.
He nodded, reached under the bar, and placed a tall bottle on the counter. He grabbed a glass from the rack above his head and reached for the rag.
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