by Zane
chapter
thirty-four
It was such a relief to have it all behind us. I’m not the type to wish death on anyone, but I have to admit I wasn’t the least bit upset when Dempsey was shot and killed at the Zoo. Personally, I felt a quick death, albeit a violent one, was too good for him after what he did to Brina. My only regret was that two other people died along with him, and one girl who was too young to be in the club in the first place, an innocent bystander who was shot in the spine, would never be able to walk again. I found out her name from Detective Wilson and which hospital she had been taken to. I went to visit her, since I could move about freely again. The police protection had been pulled, and it was great to be out and about, even if it meant getting thrown a bit off my dick-feeding schedule.
I took the girl, who was named Octavia, a dozen roses and a card. Her sister was there with her, and we all sat and talked like old friends for about an hour before I brought up the reason I was really there. I was hoping she wouldn’t take it the wrong way. “Octavia, I know your health insurance covers all of your medical expenses, but I thought you might want someone to talk to about coping with your handicap.”
Her voice was very weak, and her skin was flaccid and pale. “Someone like who?”
“I have a friend. Her name is Dr. Marcella Spencer, and she’s a wonderful psychiatrist. I think she might be able to help you tremendously.”
Her sister put her two cents in. I noticed she had quite a southern drawl. “We can’t afford no head doctor.”
“I would be willing to cover the costs.” Both of them were shocked, and their mouths were hanging wide open. I guess good Samaritans went out with bell bottoms and the Afro.
Octavia cleared her throat. “Why would you be willing to do something like that for me? You don’t even know me.”
“The man who hurt you . . . well, one of them at least, also hurt me as well as my best friend. In fact, he killed her and ultimately tried to kill me.”
They were utterly speechless. “Helping you would make me feel like I have undone some of the things he did wrong. Does that make any sense? Probably not.”
I was on the brink of tears. So much had happened over the past few months that crying had become almost second nature to me. “Yes, it makes sense to me, and thanks, lady.”
“The name is Zoe. Zoe Reynard, and thank you for accepting the help. Dr. Spencer helped me overcome something once, and she’s still helping me. I’m sure she will help you too.” I held the door open briefly as I was leaving, taking one last look at the young girl who would never walk, run, dance, drive a car, or make love again. “I’ll have Dr. Spencer stop by tomorrow to set up a schedule with you.”
She smiled at me, and I headed for my office to play catch-up.
For the next two months everything ran smoothly with my marriage, my business, and my relationship with my kids and my mother. Things had never been better. My business picked up considerably, probably because the CEO of the company was finally content with her own life and able to run everything in a more pleasant and efficient manner.
Angelique was back in her dorm, but still watched the kids for us when Jason and I went out on dates twice a week. We made that promise to one another and held to it faithfully. We spent two romantic evenings a week alone together away from the kids and household. It was during one of those romantic evenings that Jason surprised me with his master plan.
We were having dinner at a soul food restaurant when he told me he had rented a log cabin up in the mountains for us to have a weekend getaway. He suggested we drive up that Friday, which was three days away, and spend all day Saturday looking at land for sale to build our summer home. I told him it was on and then got up from my chair, sat on his lap and starting tonguing the hell out of him. The woman that owned the place came over and asked us to stop because there were children present. I replied, “Oops, my bad!” She had no idea what the hell that meant but was clearly relieved when I returned to my seat.
I dropped the kids off at Momma’s house that Friday afternoon. Jason had the Land Rover packed and ready to roll when I pulled up at home. We had a great drive up. It took us about two hours to get to the cabin, and I fell in love with it at first sight. It was nestled deep in the woods, a split-level with three bedrooms and two full baths. What I loved most was the huge fireplace. Jason headed right outside to get some wood so a fire would be up and going for dinnertime.
We had plenty of groceries. I went shopping the night before and purchased everything we would need for our romantic weekend getaway. I made baked chicken breasts with rice, green beans, and rolls for dinner. We ate on the bearskin rug by the fireplace. After we washed the dishes, we returned to the rug and made love for the remainder of the night.
Jason got up before me the next morning and prepared a huge breakfast. I didn’t even know his ass could cook like that. My baby was just full of surprises! First, eating the pussy day in and day out and then, cooking me an actual meal.
We spent most of the daylight hours riding around in a Jeep Wrangler with Roscoe Carter, the one and only local real estate agent. He showed us every section of land up for sale in the county. Jason and I were both worn out by the time he dropped us back off at the cabin. I tried to call my mother to check on the kids but got the machine and left the number where we were, just in case she had misplaced it. I figured she and Aubrey had decided to take the kids to a late matinee or out for pizza.
“Boo!” Jason crept up behind me and grabbed me around the waist.
I pretended I was mad but loved his touches any way I could get them. “Jason, you scared the hell out of me! My nerves are wracked enough as it is!”
“Oh, come on, Zoe. We’re here all alone. Who else would be grabbing you?”
“That’s not the point!” I started to walk away, but he grabbed me and plopped down on the couch, pulling me down with him.
“You’re still jumpy, aren’t you?” He started kissing and sucking on my neck.
“Yes, I’m still a little perturbed by all of this.”
“Well, don’t be.” He started unbuttoning my flannel shirt. “We’re safe now, and the kids are safe. It’s all over, baby!”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so! Now, give me my tatas!”
I started giggling while he unfastened my bra and popped a breast in his mouth. After a few more moments of foreplay, all my fears disappeared and my sexual desires took their place.
We were in the bed, even though it was only about ten o’clock, when we heard a loud rapping at the door. Jason threw on a robe and went down stairs to see what the ruckus was about. “Who is it?”
“It’s the county sheriff! Mr. Reynard?”
Jason opened the door. By that time, I was at the top of the steps wearing one of Jason’s undershirts and a pair of panties. The sheriff came into the living room with one of his deputies right on his heels. “What’s wrong, sheriff? What’s this all about?”
“Mr. Reynard, we tried to call, but your phone seems to be off the hook.” I looked around and saw that the phone on the end table beside the couch had been knocked over. I probably hit it with my foot accidentally when Jason picked me up and carried me off to bed. “There’s been some trouble back in Atlanta, and a detective—” He pulled out a small notepad and flipped the cover open. “Detective Wilson asked me to drive up here and inform you about what happened.”
I came down the steps in a state of panic. “What happened? Did something happen to the kids? My mother? Were they in an accident?”
“No, ma’am. Nothing like that. In fact, he wanted me to tell you that your mother, stepfather, and the kids are all in protective custody and have been transported to a safe house. Your mother is the one who told us how to find you.”
Jason yelled it out before I could. “A safe house?”
“Yes, sir. Do you know an Allison Morton?”
“Yes, I know Allison. She’s my personal secretary at my architectural
firm.”
“Well—” He took off his hat, scratched his head, and then replaced it. “Not anymore, she isn’t.” The deputy walked around the couch, sat the phone back upright, and made sure it was operational.
“What do you mean, not anymore?”
“She was found murdered a couple of hours ago in her apartment in southwest Atlanta.”
“Murdered?” I went running up to him. I had called Allison a bitch, told her to get the hell out my house, threatened to have Jason fire her, and now she was dead. One thing I knew for sure, and that was her death was somehow attributed to me, or the sheriff wouldn’t have been there, and my kids wouldn’t have been in protective custody. “What happened to her?”
“From what I understand, she was severely mutilated, ma’am. Look here, here’s the number to the station house back in Atlanta.” He ripped the piece of paper out of his pad and handed it to me. “The best thing would be for you to call Detective Wilson. He’s waiting to hear from either you or me anyway. He can clear this whole thing up a whole lot better than I can.”
The sheriff was obviously a man who didn’t want such evil in his county. A couple of good ole boys driving drunk or getting in a bar brawl seemed more his speed. Even talking about murder made the hairs on his neck stand up.
I called Detective Wilson. He yanked the phone up on the first ring after I was connected to his desk. “Mrs. Reynard, I have some extremely disturbing news for you.”
Jason was sitting beside me on the couch and holding my hand while the sheriff and his deputy paced back and forth, seemingly more nervous than anyone else. “So I heard, Detective. What exactly happened to Allison, and what does this have to do with me?”
“Ms. Morton was discovered by her boyfriend a few hours ago. He went over there and used his key to gain entry when she failed to show up for a date. He found her hanging from the piping in her basement apartment.” He paused before adding, “She’d been gutted like a pig.”
“WHAT?” I started trembling, and Jason kept asking me what the detective was saying. I told him I would fill him in when I got off the phone. “Detective, that’s horrible, but her death might not have anything to do with me at all! Dempsey’s dead, remember?”
“Yes, I remember. I identified that bastard’s body at the crime scene myself.”
“So what makes you think this involves me?” I was on the edge of my seat, nervously awaiting his answer.
“Hmm, I guess you could say the writing on the wall was a dead giveaway.”
“What writing on the wall?” There was a silence on the other end of the phone. “Detective?”
“It was written in Ms. Morton’s blood on her bedroom wall.”
“What was?”
“Zoe is one dead bitch!”
chapter
thirty-five
I dropped the phone into Jason’s lap and froze in place. “Zoe, what’s wrong with you? You look as pale as a ghost!”
I wouldn’t answer him! I couldn’t answer! I was in the middle of having a fucking heart attack! “Detective Wilson, this is Jason Reynard. What happened to my secretary?”
Jason listened intently while the detective repeated everything he had just told me, adding he thought the most likely motive for the murder was gaining information about our whereabouts. Apparently, whoever killed Allison tortured her first and didn’t put her out of her misery until she told them what they wanted to know. That explained a hell of a lot and made my guilt grow ten times over. Someone was after me, and poor Allison had died because of it. She was tortured because she tried to protect Jason and me. Her death on my hands was something I would have to deal with for years to come—if I lived that long.
I was in a trance until I heard Jason, still on the phone, blurt out, “A gold earring? What about it?”
I yanked the phone out of his hand. “Detective, what about a gold earring?”
“It just seemed out of place. It was found on top of the comforter on her bed, but she wasn’t wearing the match. We couldn’t find the other one in her jewelry box or anywhere else in the apartment. It may show up after forensics goes through the place more carefully, but the way it was positioned, I figured the assailant may have lost it during a struggle.” He paused and then added, “It’s probably nothing. Just a hunch.”
I could have just asked him what type of gold earring it was, but I decided to play a hunch of my own. “ Detective, was the earring a gold cross?”
I could hear his breathing become exasperated over the phone. “How did you know it was a gold cross?” I didn’t answer him. My mind was playing back memories in my mind. “Mrs. Reynard?”
“Tyson wears a gold cross earring in his left ear!”
Unfuckenbelievable! How could everyone I ever ran across in my entire life turn out to be a loony? Dempsey, Diamond, Tyson—all fucking crazy. I began to wonder if the old saying, “You are what you attract,” was written specifically for me. Maybe I was the maniac, and all the others were just following my lead.
All that time the police had assumed Tyson had fled jurisdiction to another state to avoid doing time for his parole violation, and I figured the same. When he tried to strangle me that day in Quinton’s hallway, I figured it to be a one-shot deal, caused by a fleeting moment of anger. I had chalked the incident with him and Jason up to the same. Never in a million years would I have thought Tyson was capable of such madness.
The sheriff informed us we had two choices. There was really no place for us to go stay that side of the county line at that time of night, so we could either stay where we were and have him and his deputy keep watch outside or we could bunker down for the night at the Sheriff’s Department. I opted for the first choice, and so did Jason. No way was I trying to spend the night sleeping on a hard cot in a cell.
The two officers, who I affectionately nicknamed Andy and Barney, took up a post out in their car in front of the cabin about midnight. I refilled both of their thermoses with hot coffee, and they took turns relieving themselves in the downstairs bathroom before heading out into the cool March night air.
Jason and I took our asses to bed, and for the first time since my release from the hospital, nothing sexual happened before we drifted off to sleep. We were both stressed the hell out and worried about our kids being in a safe house that sounded like something for people in the witness protection program. I didn’t like it, any of it, and I desperately wanted it to all end. So many times I thought the shit was over, but each problem resolved seemed to bring about an even bigger one. Now Tyson was after my ass. Shame on it all!
I fell asleep thinking about the fight between Dusty and me that day in the parking lot of the garage where Tyson worked, and how she ripped the gold cross earring out of his ear, causing it to bleed, when he pulled her off me. The same earring I used to take into my mouth and suck on, along with his earlobe, while he was fucking the shit out of me in his apartment, and the same earring they had found in Allison’s apartment after he “gutted her like a pig,” to quote Detective Wilson.
Jason and I were both in a deep sleep when glass shattered somewhere downstairs. We both jumped up. I picked up the phone beside the bed, but the line was dead. Jason covered my mouth, muffling my screams, and whispered in my ear, “Zoe, don’t say a word. Just listen to me and do exactly what I say.”
I nodded and listened while he instructed me on what to do. Jason helped me climb out the top-floor window, and I jumped down onto the ground below. My ribs, still damaged from the accident and Dempsey slamming them up against the car door, hurt like all hell when I landed, but at that point, I really didn’t give a damn about the pain. I had to make it to the police car to let them know Tyson was in the house.
I was about five yards from the sheriff’s car when I realized something was terribly wrong—deadly wrong. The sheriff’s arm was hanging limply out of the driver’s-side window. When I got closer, I saw his eyes in the moonlight, and I knew right off the bat they were the eyes of a dead man. There was
a small bullet hole in his forehead, and his deputy had his head on the senior officer’s shoulder. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought he was napping. Andy and Barney were both dead, and Jason was alone in the house with Tyson—Tyson, who had a gun and was blowing people away with it.
I opened the driver’s-side door, and the sheriff fell halfway out the car. I reached over him and yanked on the part of the police radio you speak into. It came to me too easily, and once I had it in my hand, I discovered why. The cord had been cut. Calling for help on the radio was out of the question. I felt all over for the guns they both wore on their hips earlier that evening. They were nowhere in sight. They could have been anywhere— tossed in the bushes, or taken by Tyson. I didn’t have time to search, and my stupid ass had left my gun at my office, figuring the whole ordeal was over and done with. I had to get to Jason! I had to save my baby! Too many people had paid the ultimate price, and my husband wasn’t going to be one of them. Even if it meant laying down my own life to save his.
I snuck around to the back so I could look in through the rear windows of the cabin. I couldn’t see anything at first, but then I spotted Jason sprawled on the kitchen floor, unconscious. There was no blood, so I didn’t think he had been shot. I had to find out.
The patio door was ajar and missing a pane. That was obviously the glass we heard breaking. For once in my life, I wasn’t afraid. I was sick of all the bullshit; if Tyson wanted to kill me, he was going to have a hell of a time doing it, because I had no intention of going out without a struggle. I went in and looked around the downstairs living area. It was dark in the living room. I didn’t sense or hear any movement. I made my way over to Jason and tried to wake him up to no avail. He had a nasty knot on the back of his head, and I figured Tyson must have coldcocked him with the butt of the gun. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t killed Jason like the cops, but I was happy as all hell he didn’t.
