The judge rises and disappears into his chambers.
Graylin’s lips are quivering as a tear rolls down his cheek. “The police lied on me, Ms. Angela. I didn’t want to talk to them. They made me do it!”
“I know.”
We walk toward the back of the courtroom and he rushes into his father’s arms.
“You were really good up there,” Dre says. “I couldn’t follow all of that legal mumbo jumbo, but it sounded to me like the judge made the wrong call.”
I want to fall into Dre’s arms the same way Graylin collapsed into Gus’.
“Thanks,” I say and brush past him out of the courtroom.
CHAPTER 62
Dre
With The Shepherd still on my ass and Angela giving me the cold shoulder, I decide to do something that feels good. I hit the road and head for Lancaster to hang out with my sister and Brianna. The ninety-minute drive is taking a lot longer. Normally, that would cause me stress, but I’m listening to some old school R&B that’s helping me mellow out.
It irks me that Angela is ignoring me even though we’re living under the same roof. You’d think she’d be grateful for my willingness to protect her. All I have to show for my gallantry is a stiff neck and a sore back from sleeping on her trendy-looking, hard-as-rocks couch. No matter how she treats me, until this thing with The Shepherd is a wrap, I ain’t budging.
Once I get to Lancaster, I shoot the breeze with my sister and her friend for a while. Donna doesn’t ask me anything about The Shepherd. That’s her way. She’d rather pretend the problem doesn’t exist. Then again, she knows me. There’s no need to ask. If the threat had been eradicated, I would’ve told her it was safe to return home. I go into the backyard to look for my niece.
“Hey, Bree.”
She runs over and jumps into my arms. Her excitement is precisely the lift I need.
“I’m working on a science project,” she brags. Colorful sheets of construction paper are spread out all over an iron table. “I’m making the solar system.”
“Looks good. So you’re going to be a scientist?” Brianna scrunches up her face. “No. I hate science. I’m going to be a commentator on CNN so I can tell people what I think.”
I chuckle. “Okay, that sounds like a winner.”
“Is Graylin doing okay?” She picks up a pair of scissors.
I specifically asked my sister not to tell Brianna about Graylin’s situation. Considering how overprotective she is, I’m surprised that she did.
“Your mother told you about Graylin?”
She glances toward the back door to the house and gives me a sheepish grin. “Nope. I heard her talking on the phone. She tries to keep me away from anything bad. She won’t even watch the news in front of me. But I’m okay. I can handle it.”
“If Donna didn’t tell you, how’d you find out?”
“All the kids at Sunday school are talking about it. Graylin didn’t do what they’re accusing him of, Uncle Dre. He’s not like that.”
“I know. Angela’s his attorney and she’s working real hard on his case.”
“Oh, good. If anybody can get him off, Angela can. I’ve been praying for him.”
I grab a lawn chair and watch Brianna cut a circle out of a yellow piece of paper. “So what are the kids saying about Graylin?”
“That he wouldn’t peek through somebody’s bedroom window and take a picture of them naked. That sounds like something his friend Crayvon would do.”
My ears open up like the large end of a funnel. I remember seeing Crayvon at Graylin’s apartment a few times.
“Why do you think it sounds like something Crayvon would do?”
“Because he’s a pervert.”
“And why is he a pervert?”
“One time at church, he put his hand under Nedra Johnson’s dress. And when she told the Sunday school teacher, he said he didn’t do it. But he’s a liar because I saw him. The Sunday school teacher told his mother, but she didn’t believe it either. Everybody thinks he’s so innocent, but he’s not. Graylin thinks that’s his best friend, but if you ask me, he’s jealous of Graylin.”
“Why is he jealous?”
“Because Graylin’s smart and gets good grades without even studying hard and because all the teachers like him. He’s also jealous because Graylin and his daddy are super close. Crayvon never sees his father.”
“Does Crayvon go to Graylin’s school?”
“Yep. My friend Analla told me Crayvon lives right across the street from that girl.”
“What girl?”
“The girl whose naked picture Graylin had on his phone.”
I hop up and pull out my phone.
“Who’re you calling, Uncle Dre?”
“Angela. What you just told me could help Graylin’s case.”
CHAPTER 63
Angela
During the course of a case, there are both up days and often even bigger down days. For me, the down days get my blood pumping the hardest. Losing that suppression motion gave me an emotional shot of adrenalin. I’m determined to do everything in my power to make sure Graylin gets justice.
We’re at Jenny’s office getting a recap of some additional interviews Mei conducted with Graylin’s classmates. Of the seven or eight kids she’s talked to, Crayvon Little and Taisha Mitchell will be the most crucial. Mei’s convinced that Crayvon took the picture of Kennedy and sent it to Graylin. Based on all the evidence she’s gathered, Jenny and I agree.
Even if it turns out that he didn’t, the information we have about Crayvon is still a positive for Graylin. In a case like this, it’s important to have another potential suspect. That’s the foundation of reasonable doubt. Is it reasonable for the jury to believe someone other than Graylin took that picture? We think it is. Before proceeding down Crayvon’s path, however, I want to talk to him myself.
I check the time on my cell phone. We need to start wrapping up. We have an interview with Crayvon in about an hour.
When we arrive, Crayvon’s mother greets us warmly and shows us into the dining room. “Crayvon’ll be here in a minute. He went to Home Depot with my sister. I’ll be right back with some coffee.”
“I don’t think she’s going to be so nice to us once she realizes we’re here to throw her son under the bus,” Jenny whispers.
If Crayvon took that picture and set up Graylin, he deserves to be under a bus.
Mrs. Little sets a plate with several slices of pound cake in the middle of the table, then returns with cream, sugar and three mugs of coffee.
“I’ve been praying every night for Graylin and his family,” Mrs. Little says. “It’s not right what they’re doing to him. They’re just kids. I tell Crayvon all the time, he better not be doing that sexting stuff.”
A tall, skinny kid charges through the front door and into the dining room, almost out of breath. He immediately reaches for a piece of cake, but his mother slaps his hand.
“Boy, where are your manners? Say hello, then go wash your hands.”
After quick introductions, Crayvon dashes out and returns in seconds. He sits on one side of the table with his mother. Jenny and I are on the other.
Jenny is chomping on Mrs. Little’s pound cake as if it’s a foreign delicacy. “Mrs. Little, this is the best pound cake I’ve ever tasted. You must give me the recipe.”
“It’s the coconut and pineapple that make the difference,” she says proudly. “Sorry, though. It’s a family secret.”
We know we have to ease into our questioning, so we take it slow, asking a series of softball questions about Crayvon’s school activities and his friendship with Graylin. Every few seconds, Mrs. Little interrupts.
“Those boys are closer than two peas in a pod. I almost feel like he’s my son. You know, his mother isn’t around, right?”
We nod and continue with our questions.
“Do you know Taisha Mitchell?” Jenny asks.
Crayvon takes a bite of pound cake. “Yeah. She lives up the street. She’s a foster kid. She’s weird.”
“Boy, don’t talk with your mouth full,” his mother scolds him. “And don’t be calling that child weird. You’re blessed that you have a family.”
“Tell us what you know about her,” Jenny says.
“Nothing really. She doesn’t go to our school.”
“Is she friends with Kennedy?”
“She used to be, but not anymore. Now LaShay is Kennedy’s best friend.”
“What do you know about LaShay?”
“She’s in my algebra and English classes. She’s kinda quiet.”
Jenny reaches for her second piece of pound cake.
“What about Kennedy? Are you friends with her?” I ask.
“Nope.”
“Do you have any idea who might’ve taken that picture of her?”
“Nope.”
“Right before your second-period class, you told Graylin you had to go to the administration office. Why?”
“My first-period teacher, Mrs. Bosley, asked me to drop off some papers for her.”
I make a note for Mei to confirm that with the teacher.
I inhale, knowing that my next line of questioning is likely to spark a change in demeanor from both Crayvon and Mrs. Little. Jenny senses where I’m about to go and gives me an out.
“Mrs. Little, could I bother you for some more coffee?”
“Of course.” She stands up and retrieves Jenny’s mug. “It’ll take a couple of minutes. Since I’m the only one who drinks coffee, I bought one of those single-cup coffeemakers.”
I wink at Jenny. She intentionally guzzled down her coffee like it was water so Mrs. Little would have to go get her a refill.
When Mrs. Little leaves the room, I lower my voice a bit, praying she can’t hear us from the kitchen. “Taisha says she saw you and Graylin going into Kennedy’s backyard a couple of days before Graylin was arrested. Is that true?”
Crayvon stops chewing and his eyes dart toward the kitchen. He seems as concerned about his mother overhearing us as we are.
“Um, well, we went back there, but we didn’t do anything.”
Mrs. Little must have dog ears. She flies back into the room, no mug in hand. “Wait a minute. When were you in the Carlyles’ backyard?”
“Um, I don’t remember. But Graylin went with me.”
“What were you guys doing back there?” I ask.
“Nothing. We were just messing around. We snuck back there and ran right back out.”
Mrs. Little pulls out her chair and sits back down next to her son. Her lips are on the edge of a frown.
“Taisha told us you two were back there about five minutes,” I say.
“Yeah. We were looking around. Kennedy’s backyard is huge. They have a real waterfall.”
Mrs. Little’s arms are folded now and she’s giving her son a look to kill.
I know we’re going to get that same look in about two seconds.
“Taisha said that after Graylin left, you came back a little later by yourself and went back there again.”
Crayvon jumps to his feet. “No, I—”
Before he can finish, Mrs. Little blows a fuse. “Oh, hell no!” She pushes her chair back, plants her hands flat on the table and leans over. “You’re not going to pin this on my baby!”
I hold up my palms. “We’re just following up on what Taisha told our investigator. We—”
“I know what you’re trying to do.” Her smooth face is now wrinkled with rage. “I’m sorry about what happened to Graylin, but you are not going to make my child his scapegoat. Get out of my house!”
Jenny reaches for another piece of pound cake, but Mrs. Little snatches the plate away.
“Get out. Now!”
CHAPTER 64
The Shepherd
It’s hard for me to believe, but I’m enjoying life at The Low again. My threat against the two C.O.s worked. They have a lot more to lose than I do. Oaktown hasn’t even crossed my path since I got out of the hole two days ago.
After returning to my cell, I found out that Wallstreet asked to move to another unit. As it stands now, I don’t have a cellie and that works for me. Other inmates avoid me since they know Oaktown despises me, and that’s fine and dandy too. At least I’m not a snitch.
I still haven’t spotted the two goons who attacked me in the hole. Maybe they’re in the hole now.
I call Willie for an update.
“We took care of that project,” Willie says. “And everything’s running smooth down south.”
“I want to go back to the original project.”
“The big project or the little project?” Willie asks.
“Both.” I want Dre Thomas dead as of yesterday and his niece in Birmingham as soon as possible.
“Who should we go after first?”
What we need is a plan to do it simultaneously. But can Willie pull that off?
I hear someone approaching. “Hold off on everything until I can get back to you.” I hang up and slide the phone underneath my leg.
C.O. Phillips steps into my cell. “How’s it going?” he asks.
“It’s going.”
I don’t like the look on his face. He’s angry, but he’s trying to keep his temper in check.
“I wanted to give you a heads-up that Oaktown is being moved to this unit.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s out of my control.”
“I never would’ve snitched on you and Sims,” I say. “I only said that out of desperation. You have to make sure that fool stays away from me.”
“We will,” Phillips says. “But it’s going to cost you. We want another ten grand. Each.”
Now they’re getting greedy.
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
Phillips chuckles. “Yes, you do.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then we won’t be able to keep Oaktown off your ass.”
It suddenly hits me that they may be moving Oaktown back over here to kill me. That would solve things for them. It was a mistake to threaten the C.O.s. They could turn out to be an even bigger problem for me than that psychopath.
“I’ll see what I can do to get you the money.”
“No, you’ll get it.”
“If you let Oaktown kill me, it’s going to come back on you.”
“No, it won’t.”
That wasn’t the response I’d hoped to hear. I wanted him to say he’d never let Oaktown kill me.
“I’ll get you the money.”
“I know you will.” He steps closer to my bunk. “I’ll wait right here while you transfer the money to our accounts. And when you’re done, I’m taking your phone.”
CHAPTER 65
Angela
I park in front of Graylin’s apartment building on Hillcrest and turn off the engine. I’m waiting for Jenny to arrive before going inside. After getting thrown out of Crayvon’s house, we decide it’s finally time to talk to Graylin about being in Kennedy’s backyard.
My cell phone rings as Jenny pulls up behind me. I glance at the screen, see that it’s Dre and let the call go to voicemail. I can’t deal with our relationship drama and this case too. So Dre’s been pushed to the back burner.
I grab my purse and iPad and climb out.
“Hey,” Jenny says, holding up a bag. “I picked up some donuts.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t go back to Crayvon’s house and ask for some more of that pound cake.”
Jenny laughs. “I would’ve if I thought Mrs. Little would’ve given me another piece.”
My phone
chimes, signaling a text as we head toward the entrance of Graylin’s apartment building.
I don’t even bother to look at the phone. “It’s Dre,” I say. “He’s been blowing me up. You know how men are when you ignore them.”
“You still aren’t speaking to him?”
“Nope.”
“You have some nerve. He’s serving as your personal bodyguard and you’re treating him like crap. So you’re not even going to read his text?”
“Nope. Let’s go inside.”
Graylin greets both of us with hugs and wastes no time digging into the donuts.
“Is someone here with you?” Jenny asks. Graylin is supposed to be under twenty-four-hour supervision.
“Yep. My granny’s in her bedroom watching The Haves and the Have Nots. When that show comes on nobody can bother her.”
Being in the same house with Graylin isn’t proper supervision. He’s wearing an ankle monitor, but even so, he could’ve sneaked out and returned without his grandmother ever knowing. I plan to talk to Gus about this.
“Okay,” Jenny begins, as we settle into the living room, “we want to talk to you about some new information we discovered.”
Hope floods Graylin’s face. “You found out who sent me the picture?”
“No, not yet,” Jenny says. “We have some questions to ask you and you need to be honest with us.”
Graylin bites into a jelly donut and a blob of strawberry jelly dribbles onto his white T-shirt. “Okay.”
We’ve agreed that Jenny will take the lead on questioning Graylin so that I can pay closer attention to his demeanor. We have to be certain he’s telling us the truth. We’re not happy Graylin neglected to mention being in Kennedy’s backyard. That’s the kind of circumstantial evidence Sullivan could use to convict him. I’m thankful that we know about it now. It would’ve been devastating to be hit with that bombshell during the middle of trial.
“Do you know Taisha Mitchell?” Jenny asks.
He stops to think. “Yeah. She lives on Crayvon’s street with a foster family. She goes to my church.”
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