She hugged Micah again, and Micah hung on to his Mom. He was a foot taller than her but he loved his pocket-sized mother who wasn't afraid to stand up for him, despite his father's forceful personality.
Bancroft growled. "What did you do this time to tick off Deidra Durkheim?"
"I refused to have sex with her," Micah said drawing from his mother's clingy embrace and standing with his legs braced apart.
His father was actually angry with him!
"So why didn't you?" Bancroft asked. "You should have given the girl what she wanted."
"Ryan Bancroft!" Celeste exclaimed. "Are you implying that my son should have had sex with a girl just to save your presidency aspirations? That's wrong and ungodly. What's happening to you these days?"
Micah grinned. His father had visibly quailed when his wife chastised him.
"My presidency is at stake Celeste," Bancroft said feelingly. "In case you haven't realized it? There are three weeks left before the board confirms me as president, and so far, my school is getting out of hand. I have two rapes to deal with and now my own son is a suspect in a third. Now tell me, who would want to hire someone to run a school when his own child is a criminal?"
"I am not a criminal," Micah said stormily. "Well not yet. When I go back to work tomorrow somebody better keep Deidra Durkheim far away from me."
Bancroft sighed, his eyes dull with fatigue. "The assistant superintendent assures me that the rape cases on our campus are being worked on. The campus security chief has boosted security, but I tell you, never in all the years that I've been at Mount Faith have I had to handle so many major problems at once."
"Maybe you shouldn't be handling them," Celeste said, leaning onto a verandah post. "Maybe you should be doing something else."
"Don't be ridiculous Celeste!" Bancroft snapped. "I am exactly where I am because of a reason. God is working out my life according to his plan."
Celeste raised her eyebrows disbelievingly. "Your ambition has cost this family," Celeste said painfully. "Our children are all troubled in some way or the other. You were hardly around in their childhood years, Ryan. I had to be the one holding down the fort alone with five children."
"And when he was around, he was awful," Micah said, smugly intruding on his parent's familiar argument.
"Well four of them didn't turn out so bad," Bancroft said, squirming under Celeste's stare. "Adrian is finishing up his Masters in Anthropology and the government is giving him a grant to head up their research study on prostitution to help them decide if they should decriminalize it. That's a significant milestone."
Celeste looked heaven ward.
Micah grinned. "The good son is coming back to Jamaica? I wonder what happened to Cathy. You remember Cathy, Dad? The girl you said was too poor and classless for him when he was here five years ago?"
"Stop this Micah," Celeste said tiredly.
Bancroft was gritting his teeth and was visibly irritated.
"But Dad paid her off to leave Adrian alone," Micah said. "I think it nearly broke his heart. The poor thing went away to Harvard so fast after his first year at Mount Faith. I think he was crying in the airport when he found out what you'd done," Micah mocked Bancroft. "You screwed up his life."
"I did what was best," Bancroft said conclusively. "He was too young to be harboring those intense feelings for that girl."
Micah chuckled humorlessly. "And let's not forget that Kylie is so afraid of her shadow, and socially challenged, that even at twenty-one years old, she is constantly holed up in her room tinkering with computers because you basically kept her as a prisoner at home when she was younger. And Marcus is so relieved to be out from under your thumb that he only comes home on Easter holiday weekends…your precious famous son is avoiding you like the plague. This family is whack and it's your fault. Well, your only saving grace now is Jessica, the only child that can stand you. You should make sure that you preserve that relationship."
Celeste sighed. "Micah that's enough."
Bancroft was simmering silently. He knew that his family was imperfect. He had five children, six, if you count Taj, the son from his youthful mistake. They reminded him everyday that there were some things that you could fail at. Raising a family was one of them.
He looked at Micah. Some days he wished that his eldest son with his wife was born with a manual.
He snapped out of his reverie when Taj drove up to the yard and parked beside their car.
"Oh, you have company," Taj said, coming out of the car. "I was concerned about you when you left the station Micah. You looked really depressed."
"Celeste, Doctor Bancroft." He nodded at Bancroft and his wife. He always felt a little strange when he was around the two of them.
Bancroft nodded at him. "How is the psych center coming on?"
"Fine," Taj replied awkwardly. He had problems addressing Bancroft since he found out that he was his father.
Celeste he was easier with. She seemed to accept him without question and she came over to him giving him a light hug.
"You look a bit bigger. You have been eating well."
Taj smiled at her. She was an earth-mother kind of person—her face was beautiful and kind—one of those people you instantly liked.
"Well Anne has been feeding me dinner every evening this week."
Celeste smiled. "It's good that you are getting to know her better. She is probably making up for lost time."
Taj shrugged. "I am taking in this whole thing one day at a time."
Celeste patted his hand. "That's the best way to do it." She turned to Micah. "Honey, we are leaving now. I will call you later."
Micah nodded.
Bancroft looked at him and then shook his head and got into the car. "I am having a meeting with the police and the security chief tomorrow morning at ten," he said to Taj. "I think you should sit in. Your expertise might prove to be valuable."
"Okay," Taj said. He watched as they drove off and then turned to Micah. "You people looked tense."
"That's the Bancroft family for you," Micah said sitting down on his step sprawling out his legs. "Always has some undercurrents and tension. Why do you think I live up here? Living with my parents had been a constant electrical charge, if I'd continued it would've fried my brain."
Taj laughed and then he sobered up. "What are you going to do about Deidra?"
"Kill her!" Micah deadpanned.
"You are not a killer or a rapist."
Micah looked at him gratefully. "I really appreciate your belief in my innocence."
Taj shrugged. "I have a certain instinct for these things. Besides, I summed up the situation with the both of you the first time we met."
Micah nodded. "Thanks man. My lawyer said that we should record her admitting that I didn't rape her, and basically threaten her with the tape. Apparently, I have to do it early because her father is heading up here tomorrow some time."
Taj looked at him questioningly. "I am curious, why did you resist Deidra?"
Micah closed his eyes. "She's immature and doesn't know what she really wants. If I took advantage of that, it would go against every principle I hold dear. I have sisters, man… I think about that. I have a philosophy that it's better not to start something than to start it and can't quit. I wish I had applied that theory to so many things in my life.
Taj nodded contemplatively. They sat on the steps together after that, silently staring at the scenery.
Chapter Twelve
Natasha and Tony got the call when they were heading to the clinic to visit Jiselle Newman—the president of the university requested a meeting with them at ten.
Natasha looked at Tony. "I hope we get some solid information from Jiselle to present at this meeting today, or we will just be sitting there like clueless chumps."
Tony nodded.
When they entered Jiselle's room she was sitting up in bed—a mass of black and blue bruises covered her face, and the portion of both her hands that weren't covered by sheets.
"I feel awful," she said to them weakly before Natasha could ask how she was doing.
Natasha looked at her sympathetically. "Jiselle, do you know a girl named Penelope Harris?"
"Yes," Jiselle said, her face wincing in discomfort and she shifted in the bed.
"Penelope is one of the producers for the new animated show the media center is producing called What Would Jesus Do. I wrote an episode for it," she said proudly. "It's directed at the college market. It makes people think, you know, before they make decisions."
Natasha nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. So where do you guys meet?"
"At the media center, Media Room 3. We even have a meeting scheduled for today. I am going to miss it." Tears seeped at the corner of her eyes.
"What time is this meeting?" Natasha asked.
"At two," Jiselle replied, sniffing. "And the bad part about all of this is that they are using my storyline."
Natasha patted her hand. "You just went through a traumatic experience, give yourself time to heal."
When Natasha and Tony left Jiselle, it was almost two. They drove to the media center and parked at the front of a door, which had bold Media Room 3 in blue lettering at the front.
"The rapist is in there," Natasha said. "I can feel it."
"So, what's the plan?" Tony asked. "Are we just going to go in there and throw our weight around, or are we going under cover?"
"Can't do undercover again," Natasha said contemplatively, "Penelope knows that we are police."
"But if we are to draw out the rapist we have to know what is the common thread with these girls. You have to emulate it and see if he attacks you."
Natasha nodded. "You have a point. Let's go inside…look around…get a job with them, or something and observe."
They got out of the car and headed toward the door. They pressed a buzzer and after a short pause the door made a click indicating that they could push it open.
They entered a big cavern like space with lots of computers lined off in the center.
"Who are you?" asked a guy who was passing the passageway. "I thought you were the guys with the lunch, that's why I let you in." He looked at their empty hands and groaned.
"We are, er... students," Natasha said slowly.
"Sorry no spectators in here today," the guy said rudely. Natasha was about to hold her ground and announce that they were police when Penelope passed by and spotted them.
"Leave them Oral, they are with me." She indicated for Natasha and Tony to follow her. They went into an empty office and she closed the door behind them.
"Hello detectives," she said whispering, "I heard about Jiselle last night."
"Yes," Natasha nodded. "We just found out that she works here and that she knows you."
Penelope nodded. "And you came to the obvious conclusion that this may be where the rapist is hiding?"
"Yes," Natasha said. "Have anything for Tony and me to do while we observe?"
"Well," Penelope said. There are twenty of us working on the project, but we have voice actors and writers, like Jiselle, that stop in from time to time. I was supposed to work with Jiselle today."
She bit her lip. "I look around here and I really don't see anyone who could do this. I am so scared. I am so happy that you guys are here. You could pose as my assistant," Penelope said to Natasha. "I heard Gilbert saying that he needed someone to assist him," she said to Tony. "Do you know anything about computers or animation software?"
Tony nodded eagerly. "I know about computers I have an associates degree from here saying I do. I have some experience with animation software. It's actually a hobby of mine."
"Perfect!" Penelope said. "We are working on two projects simultaneously…the What Would Jesus Do animation, and another one for children, featuring a mystery-solving cat.
Let me introduce you two to Professor Greenwald. He is the executive producer for the animation project and also the supervising professor for my final project."
"So you are graded on this?" Natasha asked.
"Yes." Penelope nodded. "All final year students in Media Communications choose a project that is applicable to their area of study and then they are graded. When we leave Mount Faith University it is easy for us to assimilate into any work environment in the area of media because we basically do it all here."
Natasha and Tony followed her as she headed pass a door marked sound room. "That's where the actors are doing their voice-overs. It is soundproof."
She pointed to a sign that said stop. "When the red light is on you can't enter the room."
They headed to the end of the passageway where a very fat man was sitting around a large desk. He had on a headset and was talking into it.
Penelope paused at the door. "That's Professor Greenwald."
He took off the headset after finishing the conversation and waved them into the room.
Penelope cleared her throat. "Professor, this is my new assistant, Natasha Rowe and Gilbert's assistant director, Tony Beaker."
"Which area of study are you two in?" The professor asked. "I can't recall seeing you two before."
"Law Enforcement," Natasha said quickly, finding her badge and handing it to him. "We want to be as unobtrusive as possible."
"Ah," the professor said. "I see. We were very concerned as a department that two ladies from our own ranks were targeted. I just spoke to the president and he said the police were handling it. I had disbelieved him but now I see my lack of confidence was misplaced. Well, welcome aboard. I hope you catch whoever is doing this."
"Thank you," Natasha said. "I hope you appreciate that I cannot be exposed as a police officer, at least not yet."
Professor Greenwauld nodded. "I understand. As I am sure Penelope does."
"Let me introduce you to Gilbert," Penelope said. "He's the director for What Would Jesus Do."
They headed to Gilbert's workspace, which looked chaotic. He had several storyboards lined across his workspace and two assistants working around computers.
He was in the middle of pointing out something to an assistant. He looked up when they walked in and smiled at Natasha wickedly.
"Wow, a pretty girl! To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"She's my assistant," Penelope said. "Her name is Natasha Rowe. The guy is your assistant. His name is Tony Beaker."
"Oh." Gilbert smiled. "My name is Gilbert Hibbert." He held out his hand to Tony, shook it briskly, and then took Natasha's hand in his tenderly.
"Dinner tonight? I get off at six. You can call me Gil by the way." His voice was husky.
One of his assistants looked around. "Gil, I'm not sure if this character should be male or female."
Gil looked around and snarled. "Follow the storyboard James! That's why I don't like working with sophomores."
Natasha pulled her hand from his and shook her head. "Sorry. I am not available tonight."
Gil smiled again. "I am looking forward to getting to know you better, Natasha." He indicated for Tony to follow him.
When Penelope and Natasha were outside in the common area, Natasha asked curiously, "Is Gilbert always like that?"
Penelope nodded. "Yes, he does it to everybody. He doesn't mean anything by it."
Natasha made a mental note to watch him.
Chapter Thirteen
Natasha left her new job at Media Room 3, dejected. She had followed Penelope around all day as she looked for clues; checking out all the males in the vicinity trying to see if any of them loved gum and had a hoarse voice. She found out quickly that everybody in the place chewed gum.
They sat around their computers and chewed gum incessantly while they cracked jokes, and constantly fussed about who was not following the storyboard.
So much for that being a clue. She was no closer to finding out who was the rapist than she was this morning.
She glanced at her phone. It had vibrated periodically during the day and she had been told to turn it off—no phones were allowed in Media Room 3.
She went into her car tiredly and started to drive home to her apartment, a spacious one-bedroom apartment that was relatively close to the school. Her intention was to have a warm shower, to shake the chilly effect of the October breeze, call back Taj and apologize for completely blowing her top earlier.
When she drove up to her apartment building and spotted Taj's car a bolt of happiness hit her. He was leaning on his car and glancing at his watch. A smile of relief flooded his face as he gazed at her coming out of her car.
"I thought you weren't answering my calls from this morning because you were mad at me. I came by to see you."
Natasha laughed. "No, I came back here to shower and then after I'd call you to apologize. I was stuck in Media Room 3 for most of the evening."
Taj walked up to her and gazed into her eyes. They were almost nose-to-nose. "I am sorry."
"I am sorry too," Natasha said softly. "I didn't mean to blow my top. I don't believe that Micah is guilty either."
Taj smiled. "That's a change."
"Come up and I'll explain it to you," Natasha said moving away from him and heading to her apartment, which was on the ground floor—apartment 1B. It had come furnished, but was one of those basic apartments. Natasha had made no move to personalize it. She hardly spent time there anyhow.
She sat on the leather settee and Taj followed her.
"I was going to bathe." She put her head on his shoulder. "Preferably in hot water."
Taj chuckled. "I was going to ask you out to dinner."
"I am too tired to go anywhere," Natasha said wearily.
Taj held her chin and kissed her lightly. The kiss deepened and Taj growled low into his throat. He broke the kiss. He kissed her all over her honey toned face and then her closed eyelids.
Tattered Tiara (The Bancrofts: Book 2) Page 8
