Collusion

by De'nesha Diamond

“Bree, are you all right?”

  Instead of answering, her gaze drifted to the byline. “The fuck?”

  The dining room table bounced on its legs.

  “Whoa.” Kadir gripped the table, attempting to settle it, but instead started vibrating along with it. “I’m going to kill her.”

  “No. No, you’re not,” he said. “Bree, look at me. Bree!”

  Her gaze shot up.

  “You need to whoosa this shit right now.” To be a sport, he led by example and drew a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. “Now you. Breathe,” he said, rolling his hand for her to follow along.

  He looked ridiculous, but she joined him on the third breath.

  “That’s it.” He smiled when the table settled down. “There. Don’t you feel better?”

  “Not really,” she admitted and popped out of her seat.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going down to that paper and give Ms. Lehane a piece of my mind. See? This is why I don’t trust people. They latch on and suck the damn blood out of you!”

  “I’m sure that’s not the case here.”

  Abrianna’s hands settled on her hips while she gave him an old-fashioned cobra neck. “Exactly whose side are you on?”

  “There’s no side.”

  “Oh. There’s muthafuckin’ sides and right now, it looks to me like your ass is Team Tomi, so why don’t you pack your shit and do your rah-rah cheerleading at her fuckin’ crib?”

  “Whoa. Whoa.” Kadir picked up a napkin and waved it. “White flag. Time out.”

  Abrianna’s hands went from her hips to fold across her chest. “Don’t play Switzerland with me.”

  Kadir tried again. “If there’s a side, I’m riding with you. Know that. I’m tryin’ to get you to take a couple of things into consideration.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like Tomi’s a reporter. She’s doing what reporters do. Report shit. You said yourself several times that you two aren’t friends—and even if you were, is she supposed to stop doing her job?”

  Abrianna wrestled with her nerves. “First of all, she’s dead-ass wrong for not at least giving my ass a heads-up. Second, I told her ass when she did that first interview with Marion to back the hell off. She wants to report on Cargill and the Dragons, fine. It’s all good. But for her to rummage for shit like that after she carries on and on about not wanting anyone to know that she is a freak? She doesn’t want anyone to know about what T4S has done to her—to us. But it’s cool to put all my business on Front Street? Nah. The bitch is dead-ass wrong—and she knows it. That’s why the fuck she didn’t call. And that’s why the fuck she needs to catch these hands.”

  “And then what? She’s likely to be as strong as you are and probably can do all the things that you can. Fighting her isn’t going to change anything.”

  “It’ll make me feel better.”

  “Let it go. Don’t fuck with her anymore. There are other reporters out there who will help us once we crack how Cargill traffics those children. She’s not the only game in town. Far from it. We have other contacts, like Joy Walton and Greg Wallace. Fuck her.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Fuck her.”

  Kadir grinned. “You still want me to pack my shit?”

  “Depends,” she said stubbornly.

  “On what?”

  “Are you going to stop playing Switzerland?”

  “For now.”

  “Then you can stay . . . for now.” She grinned.

  * * *

  “What the hell is this?” Cargill stared at the Washington Post’s morning headline. Like a cartoon, he took both fists and rubbed his eyes as if they needed a good cleaning. He took another look. The headline remained the same. “Holy shit.” He jumped up from the dining room table, abandoning his breakfast to race to his study. He turned on the television to see the words “Breaking News” emblazoned across the bottom of the screen along with his own damn paper’s morning headline.

  Cargill’s arm tightened, and then the sensation stretched across to his chest toward his racing heart. He stumbled back a few steps and wondered if he was now having a heart attack. But a minute later, the pain subsided, and the air he had locked in his lungs burst free. The scare was over; he rushed to the phone and dialed Lautner. For the first time in twenty-five years, Lautner didn’t answer his call, and he was transferred to voice mail.

  “Goddamn it, Peter! Where the fuck are you? Have you fucking seen the damn papers? This is a nightmare! Get your ass over here right now!” He slammed the phone down and flinched at the tingling that lingered in his fingers.

  Eternity was twenty minutes, Cargill discovered. That was how long it took for Lautner to call him back. “It’s about goddamn time! Where the hell were you?”

  “Cargill, I have some bad news,” Lautner said gravely.

  “No shit. It’s all over the paper and on my television. What the hell is going on? Is Marion in that damn jail giving out more interviews? What the fuck has gotten into her?”

  Lautner’s sober tone remained steady. “Marion isn’t giving any interviews—now or ever.”

  “What in the hell does that mean?”

  “I’m sorry, Cargill, but Marion is dead.”

  Cargill’s knees gave out and plopped him down into his desk chair. “What?”

  “I’m down here at the prison. They are saying that she hung herself in her cell.”

  Silence.

  “Cargill?”

  He slammed down the phone and then chewed on his anger. “That bitch.”

  * * *

  Abrianna couldn’t stop crying. She fell apart the moment Marion’s death was reported on the news. None of Kadir’s well-intentioned and soothing words penetrated her cocoon of depression. The fact that she’d always thought she hated Marion didn’t matter. There had always been bonds between them. Bonds of tragedy. Bonds of pain. Bonds of regret.

  For two days, Kadir and her friends left her alone to grieve.

  Tomi called several times, but Abrianna refused to take the calls. Tomi then tried to contact everyone in Abrianna’s circle, including Castillo and, out of loyalty, they refused to take her calls, too.

  Other media outlets called endlessly as well. Everyone wanted to know her response to Tomi Lehane’s hit job and whether Abrianna believed that Marion had taken her life because of it.

  News dribbled out about Cargill being enraged, and many suspected that he would be suing the Washington Post, but then the shocker of Cargill Parker being the new owner of the paper threw everyone into a tailspin.

  There had been an unexpected dust-up when it had come time to claim Marion’s body. According to the paper, Cargill tried to have the body cremated, but Marion’s long-time friend, Tina Bouchard, emerged with documents, a will, and a mean-ass lawyer who helped her take possession of Marion’s body.

  Marion would get a proper burial at Ebenezer Cemetery.

  The day of Marion’s private burial, Abrianna surprised herself by climbing out of bed and announcing to Kadir that she was going. She didn’t care that Cargill and reporters would be there. She had to say her final goodbye and do what she should have done weeks ago: forgive.

  The trek out to Ebenezer Cemetery was a circus for the small group of friends that Marion had managed to collect despite Cargill’s hawkish surveillance. The media weren’t there for Marion, but for Cargill and Abrianna Parker, should they show up.

  They did.

  When Abrianna stepped out of the car with Kadir by her side, Cargill stood less than twenty feet from her. With her red eyes safely hidden behind a large pair of dark sunglasses, Abrianna ignored Cargill and walked with her head held high. The preacher said a few words and then Tina stunned everyone with one of the most powerful and soulful voices Abrianna had ever heard. The song “Trouble of the World” triggered a memory of Marion singing the song at the piano. She was always singing about an invisible God who was going to save them, and it never happened.

  Abrianna resen
ted him for that. God didn’t save her or Samuel or even Marion in that cold cell. But by the time Tina reached the last line—I’m going home to live with God—Abrianna broke down.

  Kadir helped lead her back to the car and then into their apartment.

  Later that night, she recovered some and shared memories with Kadir and Shawn. Memories she’d long forgotten. They were always from when Cargill wasn’t around, and most of them involved her and Marion around the piano. She’d forgotten how much Marion loved music.

  “It’s funny. I didn’t remember before, but the first time I came to the Parkers’ house Marion and Tina were at the piano, singing.”

  “You remember that far back? How old were you?” Shawn asked.

  “I couldn’t have been more than . . . five, I think.”

  Shawn looked at her oddly. “Cargill and Marion were never married, so . . . didn’t the adoption agency check them out?”

  “Money allows you to break all the rules.” She paused as a thought occurred to her—to all three of them.

  “It’s an adoption agency!” they declared in unison.

  “I don’t believe it. The answer has been right in front of us the whole time,” Abrianna gasped.

  Kadir popped up and grabbed his laptop. “Do you know the name of the adoption agency? There are thousands, if not millions around the world.”

  Abrianna shook her head. “I-I have no idea. I’ve never possessed any of my adoption papers.” Then she remembered, “But I think I know someone who may know.”

  * * *

  An exhausted Tomi arrived home to an excited and hungry German shepherd dancing by the door. The doggy door in the laundry room saved her from returning to ruined carpets and floors. However, the longer hours lately made the German shepherd twice as excited and aggressive. Tomi made it no more than a couple of feet into the house before her big baby had knocked her down and slobbered all over her face.

  “Okay, boy. Get off of me.”

  Of course, he didn’t get off. They laughed, rolled around, and played for a while.

  Thump!

  Tomi and Rocky froze.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  Rocky’s ears pointed up as he cocked his head from side to side.

  She pushed the dog off of her and climbed to her feet. Had the sound come from upstairs or the basement? She looked to Rocky, but he just stared back. “You’re a lot of help, you know that?”

  Leaving her bag and purse on the floor, Tomi reached for the. 38 holstered at her back. “C’mon, boy.” She and the dog crept to the basement door.

  Heart pounding, Tomi turned the knob and then cringed when the rusted hinges announced to the whole world that she was opening the door. She hit the light switch, but it lit the top of the stairs and not the basement.

  In the three years that she’d lived in the townhouse, she’d only been in the basement three times before. A psychiatrist wasn’t needed to tell her why. Of the three Avery survivors, Tomi had been huddled in the mad scientist’s basement the longest. Ten months. Ten months of hellish torture, watching other teenage girls die around her, and being scared every second that she would be next.

  He’s not down there. It was silly that she even had to say that as she coached herself down each step, determined to conquer her fear. At some point, she’d stopped breathing. She was sure of it. However, her heart sounded like an African drum in her ears as she crept along. At the bottom of the stairs, she hit the second switch and flooded the room with light.

  Nothing.

  Other than boxed summer clothes and home tools, the coast was clear.

  Relieved, Tomi sighed and lowered her weapon. “I’m going crazy.” She rolled her eyes and marched back up the staircase.

  Rocky sat on his haunches at the top of the stairs, panting happily at her return. She closed the basement door.

  “Thanks for having my back.”

  Rocky barked.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m going. I’m going.” She holstered her weapon and headed to the kitchen. As she crossed the living room, she noticed the lace curtains billowing, the sliding glass door open. “What in the hell?” She shifted direction from the kitchen to the dining room.

  A disappointed Rocky whined.

  Tomi palmed her weapon again and performed another slow creep. The closer she got to the open door, the louder Rocky whined. When she reached the door and glanced out into the backyard again, she didn’t see anything. She relaxed, but then her entire scalp tingled. Instinct made her duck. The sliding door exploded and became a cascade of shattered glass. Rocky barked wildly. Quickly, Tomi crawled out of the dining room.

  However, her shooter wasn’t outside. He was in the house.

  She heard another suppressed gunshot.

  Rocky cried out and then hit the floor, hard.

  Tomi’s scream died in her throat when she was gripped by the back of her head and snatched to her feet. A needle was jammed into her neck. Her eyes widened as the plunger emptied its drug. A poisonous fireball roared through her veins, closing off her throat and shutting off her oxygen. She dropped her weapon and slumped into the man’s arms. She heard more gunfire. Her attacker released her to return fire.

  She hit the floor with a thump! Eyes still wide open, Tomi had an unobstructed view of Rocky’s still body. Her big baby. Were they now going to watch each other die? Tears swelled and blurred her vision. Smoke. Fire. Her townhouse was going up in flames.

  Before losing consciousness, she was aware of her body being picked up and carried out of her townhouse and into a waiting van. The last faces she saw were Dr. Zacher and Jayson Brigham.

  62

  Tina Bouchard opened her door with surprise, but then graciously allowed them to enter her home.

  “I’m sorry for popping up like this,” Abrianna said.

  “No. It’s no problem.” Tina closed the door behind her and Kadir. “I’m thrilled that you came. Can I take your coat?”

  “Sure.” Abrianna slid out of her leather jacket.

  Kadir also removed his coat.

  “Please, go in and sit down.”

  “Thanks.” Abrianna waltzed in with butterflies in her belly. Of course, she instantly remembered the last time that she was there and was again filled with remorse.

  “Can I get you two something to drink?”

  “No. That won’t be necessary,” Abrianna said, taking a seat. “I hope you don’t mind, but I came to ask a few questions.”

  “Okay.” Tina took a seat across from them. “I take it that they are questions you didn’t get to ask Marion the last time you were here?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid so. You have no idea how much I regret that day.”

  “I think I have a pretty good idea,” Tina said. “What’s your question?”

  Abrianna looked to Kadir first, who squeezed her hand in encouragement. “The last time I was here you said that you hadn’t seen me since the first day I came home from the adoption agency. I remember that day now. You and Marion were sitting at a piano.”

  Tina smiled. “Yes. Your mother and I bonded over music.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to remember the name of that adoption agency, would you?”

  Tina’s brows lifted with another wave of surprise, but then a small smile crept across her face. “Do you mind if I ask you why?”

  Abrianna met Tina’s gaze. “Because I’m going to take Cargill and the Dragons Templar down if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Now that sounds like music to my ears. I’m glad that you have the balls to actually do something. The last time Marion was here, I thought that she’d at least come to her senses, but . . .” She sighed. “Anyway . . . I don’t know the name of the adoption agency.”

  Abrianna’s hopes deflated.

  “But I’m sure that Marion wrote it down. Heaven knows she was always writing things down in her diaries.”

  “Diaries?”

  “Loads of them. I’m sure that they’re all fascinating reads.”r />
  “But . . . where are they?”

  “She placed them where she knew they would always be safe until the time was right. Looks like that’s today.”

  “And where is that?”

  “I have them.”

  * * *

  Abrianna didn’t assemble the whole crew to help read through the trunk full of beautiful gold-trimmed diaries. That would be too insensitive and an invasion of her privacy. However, she did ask Shawn and Kadir, the people she trusted the most, to skim through the books. Three hours into it, everyone was emotionally exhausted reading through the horrors that were written in perfect penmanship.

  “Abrianna, have you seen this?” Shawn said, lifting one of the diaries and scooting closer.

  “What is it?”

  “Well, according to this: Samuel wasn’t Cargill’s kid.”

  “What?”

  “No. He wasn’t,” Tina said, drawing their attention to the bedroom door. She leaned against the doorframe with a full wineglass in one hand and a near-empty wine bottle in the other. “Asshole Cargill was too damn stupid to realize that he was shooting nothing but blanks all these years.”

  Tina was drunk.

  “I don’t understand,” Bree said.

  Shawn answered, “Says here that she had an affair with some guy named Michael back in ’98.”

  Pain rippled across Tina’s face. “Yep. Granted, it was before we were . . . you know. Still hurts, though.” At Bree’s confusion, she added, “It’s always painful when someone is able to give someone you love something you can’t.”

  “Oh.” Bree lowered her gaze to the diary Shawn held. “But who was this Michael guy?”

  “Just some lobbyist who used to work off of K Street. For a few playful months, he and Marion snuck around D.C. under Cargill’s nose. Frankly, I think Cargill finally got hip to the game because one day Michael just ‘poof.’ Vanished without a trace. Marion didn’t want to believe it, though. I don’t know what she told herself had happened. I just know that I was forbidden to ever mention his name again.”

  “So Samuel wasn’t Cargill’s?”

  “No. Thank God for small blessings.”

  Abrianna frowned at Tina dragging God back into the picture. Then she thought about her first day from the adoption agency again. “I got it,” she shouted. “The Lifeline Adoption Agency.” Excited, she threw her arms around Shawn and Kadir and danced around in a circle. “Quick, get Castillo in the phone. We’re about to make her fucking night!”