Deadly Deception

by London St Charles

  “Well come on then,” she slurred, already half asleep.

  Jackson climbed alongside Cadence and kissed her lips and then her belly. “Goodnight,” he whispered, pulling the quilt over Cadence and leaving the bed.

  “Where––– are you––– going?”

  “To get our things set for the morning.” He laughed. “Sleep tight.”

  “Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” Jackie shouted from her bedroom.

  * * *

  Cadence pulled the covers over her face at the sudden flickering light that filtered through the room. She lifted her arms above her head, yawned, extended her legs, and was careful not to point her toes so she wouldn’t get a Charlie horse. Never opening her eyes, she rolled on her side, turning her back toward the disturbance that had interrupted her sleep. Cadence snuggled the pillow and tried to get comfortable, but sleep wouldn’t revisit her anytime soon. She yanked the quilt away from her face, opened her eyes, and they collided with blue lights dancing on the wall.

  “What?” she moaned, turning over and seeing bright police lights coming through the bedroom window. “Jackson,” she called out, sliding on a pair of slippers.

  Cadence swung open the bedroom door and almost tripped over Jackie.

  “Why are you sitting in the doorway?” Cadence asked, holding onto the wooden frame.

  “Daddy told me to.”

  “Get up from there.” Cadence frowned. “What’s going on?”

  “Mama Cee, I’m scared.” Jackie laid her head on Cadence’s belly. “Someone tried to break-in the house.”

  “Go into the bedroom and close the door. Don’t come out until I tell you,” Cadence instructed, sliding past Jackie.

  “But daddy said–––”

  “Don’t worry about daddy.”

  Scattered glass and stones from the contemporary Japanese landscaped front yard, covered the hardwood living room floor. Cadence treaded around the jagged objects carefully, then stepped outside into the frigid night air without a coat.

  Four squad cars were parked in front of their house. Her eyes zeroed in on the garden––– or what was left of it. She paid someone year-round to maintain it, even while they were in Germany. The concrete snow lantern was cracked, the bamboo bridge was egged, the stone path made up of rare stones imported from Japan were streaked in yellow paint, and the words, ‘You a dead bitch’ was spray-painted across the frozen grass.

  Heat rushed through her body, and it wasn’t from pregnancy hormones. Cadence headed down the stairs, but Jackson cut her off. “Baby, you need to go back inside. I’ve already talked to the–––”

  “What happened?”

  “I was in the basement ironing when I heard glass breaking. The alarm sounded, and Jackie screamed. I ran upstairs to check on you all when a ton of rocks flew through the window. One hit me,” Jackson explained, rubbing the back of his head. “I thought I’d been shot. I looked in on you and called them,” he said, pointing toward the officers. “I don’t know how you slept through that.”

  “We haven’t been here twelve hours, and the bullshit has already started,” Cadence growled through clenched teeth. “They don’t scare me, Jackson. I will be in court tomorrow.”

  “I know, baby.” He nodded, clasping her shoulders. “Please. Please. Please, go back inside.”

  Cadence glared at the cops who were dusting for fingerprints and taking pictures. “For all I know, one of them probably did this.”

  Chapter 3

  Jackson didn’t want to feed into Cadence’s line of thinking, but she was probably right. He was fuming on the inside because deep down, he knew something was going to happen; he just didn’t expect it to be the first night they came back.

  He swept up the glass and rocks while the board-up company secured the living room windows. Then Jackson went into the basement and found a couple of old cans of green spray paint and covered the derogatory words across the lawn, but not before taking pictures of his own for evidence.

  “Daddy, I’m scared,” Jackie cried as she leaped into his arms, almost knocking him over. “I wanna go home.”

  Jackson’s lungs filled to the point his chest burned. He held Jackie tight against his body and stroked her thick curls. He lowered onto the loveseat, catching a glimpse of Cadence backed into the corner with her hands covering her mouth and nose.

  “Releasing his breath,” Jackson replied, “This is your other home. Where all of our family lives.”

  “I don’t like it here. Nothing like this ever happened in Stuttgart,” Jackie said, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “Why did we have to come here?”

  He purposely avoided eye contact with Cadence. Jackson felt the same as his baby girl, but he understood why they had to do it. Cadence needed justice as well as closure, and he didn’t want to make her feel bad for doing what was necessary.

  “We are visiting grandma and …”

  Cadence shuffled over, caressed Jackie’s face, and peered at Jackson while shaking her head. She didn’t have to utter a word. Jackson understood the look. They were connected that way.

  He scooted over, giving Cadence enough room to sit beside him.

  “We promised always to tell each other the truth, right?” he said to Jackie.

  “Yeah,” she responded just above a whisper.

  “You might not remember because this happened a long time ago,” Jackson explained, pushing Jackie’s hair from her face. “Do you remember the policeman who asked Cadence to get in his car the night your mommy died?”

  Jackie’s eyes narrowed, and her lips twisted.

  It took every ounce of self-control for Jackson not to show any emotion. He hated bringing this up, especially after they worked so hard to get past the tragedy.

  “Sort of––– I mean, I remember parts of it.”

  “That policeman did a bad thing, and I have to go to court to tell the judge what I know,” Cadence explained, rubbing Jackson’s hand that rested along Jackie’s back.

  “I thought the police were supposed to protect us.”

  “They are,” Jackson said. “But all of them aren’t good people. Most of them are, and if you’re ever in trouble, you should call 911, but sometimes there’s one or two that don’t do the right thing.”

  “Kind of like the kids in your classroom,” Cadence added. “Most of them do their work and listen to the teacher, but there’s always one or two that get in trouble.”

  “Yeah, like Jonas and Fynn.” Jackie chuckled, sitting upright on her father’s lap. “They always give Ms. Schneider a hard time. She starts yelling, and she always ends up sending them to the office.”

  “Exactly,” Cadence said, shifting on the loveseat. “Me testifying in court is like sending the policeman to the office. The judge is the principal.”

  Jackson loved how Cadence had a way of relating to Jackie. She talked to her like the ten-year-old she was while being honest in a way that she understood.

  “Give me big hugs,” Jackson said, wrapping his arms around Jackie and squeezing her tight. “You too, mommy.” He smiled at Cadence and put his arms around her.

  “We love you,” Cadence cooed, kissing Jackie on the forehead.

  “I love you more,” Jackie responded, squealing as Jackson picked her up and carried her over his shoulder to the bedroom. He placed Jackie in the bed and tucked her underneath the turquoise comforter with ruffles.” Have a goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.”

  “Goodnight, daddy.”

  Jackson blew her a kiss, turned off the light, and pulled the door closed.

  Before going back into the living room with Cadence, he made a phone call.

  “Hey, Sly.”

  “Yooooo, Jax. My dude,” Sly yelled into the phone, causing Jackson’s eardrum to throb. “Whaddup, cousin?”

  “Sly–––”

  “How’s Germany treating you, and when are you bringing your ass home?” he asked in that loud hospitable tone.

  “I’m bac
k in Chicago,” Jackson countered, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door. He turned the water on in the sink before he continued. “I need–––”

  “Guess who’s back in the Chi, Tony?” he shouted to his twin brother. “Just wait till Aunt Mable finds out. She’s been–––”

  “Hey, man. Hey. Hold up a minute,” Jackson shouted over Sly, then lowered his voice. “I need you to listen.”

  “You got the floor, l’il cousin.”

  “Do you remember what I wrote about, explaining the reason we left?”

  “Yeah. That punk ass cop and Lester threatened Cadence. Is he still bothering y’all? Where you at? You need me to roll through?”

  “We had an incident here at the house, but we’re good,” Jackson said, listening for Cadence’s footsteps.

  “What the fuck happened?” Sly questioned, his tone aggressive and hostile. “Yo, Tony. We gotta make a run.”

  “Slow down, Sly.”

  Jackson knew the twin duo would handle their business. They were street-savvy and had a rep to back it up. Over the years, they smoothed out their street persona, and to the layman person, Sly and Tony were regular men who dressed in slacks, button-downs, carried a briefcase, and went to their respective jobs. But to the folks in the hood, they were known as thugs in a suit who protected their community. No one ever crossed them and lived to tell about it.

  They loved them some Cadence, and she returned their affections, but she’d have Jackson’s ass if she saw them lurking outside of their home. The twins were trouble, but Jackson loved his cousins, and they needed their help. He didn’t trust these crooked cops to do their job.

  “I need eyes and ears on the streets, my parents’ house, Cadence’s mom’s, and at the crib … discreetly,” Jackson warned. “Cadence can’t know anything about this.”

  “Consider it handled.”

  Chapter 4

  They arrived an hour early at the Cook County Criminal Court Building. Protestors of all races swarmed the sidewalk and street with picket signs causing a major traffic jam. Tensions ran high in Chicago, after the sentencing of a former police officer, Jason Van Dyke. He received less than seven years in prison for murdering the black seventeen-year-old, Laquan McDonald. This was an injustice to the human race, but specifically for African Americans.

  Cadence followed the case while in Germany and understood the public’s outrage. The outcome made her leery of her case against Detective O’Brien. There was irrefutable proof of Van Dyke’s guilt. The whole world saw the video, and he still got a slap on the wrist. All Cadence had was an audio recording of Detective O’Brien’s voice. What were the odds of her receiving justice?

  Jackson gripped Cadence’s hand and led her through the frustrating protestors. Once they entered the building, Cadence and Jackson had to go through security, placing their items in a plastic bin, then onto a conveyor belt.

  The alarm attached above the metal detector sounded as Cadence walked through the body scanner.

  “What the fu …” she mumbled under her breath. She didn’t have anything in her pockets to warrant the alarm.

  “Please step over here,” said the man in dark brown pants and a tan shirt with a Cook County Sheriff’s badge on his sleeve.

  Cadence did as she was instructed while glancing backward at Jackson as he came through the metal detector without any issues. Jackson collected his watch and belt, along with Cadence’s belongings, then stood to the side to wait for her.

  “Arms out,” the sheriff commanded, holding a black wand in his hand.

  He traced the outline of Cadence’s body; no detection of metal was found. Then he waved the wand in front of her breast, and Cadence flinched, but still, no trace of metal was present.

  She trembled, instantly flashing back to Detective O’Brien, sliding his service weapon between her breast to intimidate and ensure her silence of his involvement with Lester.

  The sheriff eyed Cadence longer than she deemed necessary, making her more uncomfortable than she already was.

  “What’s the hold-up?” Jackson asked, inching forward.

  The sheriff frowned, placing a hand over the holster on his waist. He never acknowledged Jackson nor averted his glare from Cadence. “System glitch.” He shrugged. “You’re free to go.”

  Cadence placed a protective hand over her belly as she walked toward Jackson and whispered, “Are these coincidences and glitches going to happen for the duration of the trial?”

  Jackson cast an evil glare at the sheriff. “I think we need to be prepared for the unexpected,” he said, holding her hand as they proceeded to the elevators.

  * * *

  The courtroom was evenly divided. The boys in blue flooded the left-hand side, and the undesirables, dressed in sagging jeans, oversized white t-shirts, and snapback caps, on the right.

  Cadence stood as tall as her pregnant belly would allow as both group’s eyes bore through her as she slid into the back row of the gallery. She’d be lying if she said the attention wasn’t unsettling.

  “Are you alright, baby?” Jackson asked, grabbing her coat and folding it over his arm, then placing a hand on her thigh. “You’re shaking.”

  “No, I’m not,” she shot back, glancing down at her arms and hands.

  “Your insides,” Jackson whispered in her ear. “I feel you,” he said, lightly squeezing her thigh.

  “I can’t wait until this is over with, so we can get back to our life before Detective O’Brien and Lester ever entered our existence,” she said, peering beyond the spectators, landing her focus on the cocky detective with his attorney in the front of the courtroom. “He’s finally going to get what he deserves.”

  “All rise,” the bailiff instructed, “Honorable Judge Clark Duncan presiding.”

  The raven-haired judge dawning a black robe with a white shirt and red tie peeking from the collar, stepped up to the elevated platform and took a seat behind the bench, where he had the power to change people’s lives with the bang of a gavel. He looked out to the gallery and said, “You may be seated.”

  Other than the movement from people lowering onto their bottoms, not a single word was spoken.

  “I know emotions are running high at this time with several cases pending against the Chicago Police Department, but at no time will any outburst be allowed in my courtroom,” Judge Duncan said in a tone that meant business. “If you can’t conduct yourself in an orderly fashion, this would be the time to excuse yourself.”

  Cadence nodded, taking a deep breath as the judge looked out into the gallery. Jackson interlocked his fingers with hers, and that settled her nerves a bit.

  “Very well. Let’s get started.” Judge Duncan put on a pair of silver, wired glasses, then slid them to the tip of his nose while looking down at the document before him. “The people versus Paul O’Brien with conspiracy charges to cover up a crime and witness intimidation. The defendant entered a plea of ‘not guilty’ at the preliminary hearing,” the judge said, removing the frames and leaning back in his seat. “Prosecution, your opening statement.”

  Assistant District Attorney, Aaron Knox, stood, fastening the button on his grey suit jacket. “Your Honor, may I approach the bench?”

  Cadence tilted her head and whispered, “That can’t be good.”

  “What do you mean?” Jackson asked, glancing at Cadence, then the front of the courtroom as both attorneys walked toward the bench.

  “The trial hasn’t even started, and there’s a problem.” Cadence frowned as Judge Duncan placed a hand over the microphone. “I wonder what’s wrong.”

  Judge Duncan pursed his thick lips. His trimmed brows knotted, and his eyes narrowed.

  “I knew it,” she said, leaning forward.

  The Judge said something that resulted in a satisfying smirk across Detective O’Brien’s attorney’s face as he maneuvered back to the defendant’s counsel table. Cadence bit her lip and shook her head. ADA Knox didn’t appear half as confident as he walked back to the p
rosecution table. She swore his forehead was glistening from beads of sweat.

  “Your Honor,” Detective O’Brien’s attorney said, his arms moved like a ballroom dancer with every word he spoke. “In light of this new information, I ask that all charges against my client be dropped.”

  Gasps and whispers from the gallery filled the courtroom. Cadence’s unborn son must have sensed the uprising as he kicked her ribcage with such force that she lunged forward and cried out. Immediately, her hands drew to the source of the pain.

  Jackson wrapped his arms around her. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, rubbing her back. “This isn’t good for you or the baby.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until I find out what’s going on,” Cadence countered, massaging the area below her left breast.

  The pounding gavel grabbed everyone’s attention.

  “Order in the court. Order in the court,” Judge Duncan demanded, wearing an exasperated expression. “Mr. Reed, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

  “The prosecution has the burden of proof, Your Honor,” Reed commented, gesturing toward ADA Knox. “And the only evidence––– alleged evidence linking my client to any crime, has been compromised.”

  Cadence grabbed Jackson’s arm, digging her nails into his skin to keep from speaking what was on the tip of her tongue. Incompetence. Railroaded. Cover-up. Injustice were just a few of the words that came to mind.

  “Your Honor,” ADA Knox pleaded, “The people request a sixty-day continuance to restructure our case.”

  “The prosecution has had more than enough time to gather evidence,” Reed interjected.

  “He has a point,” Judge Duncan replied. “The time to ask for a continuance is before the trial starts, Mr. Knox.”

  “Your Honor, I left the office at approximately eleven o’clock last night,” Knox explained. “I wasn’t aware that the office had been vandalized until seven a.m. when I went to retrieve the files and evidence for trial. There was no way for me to inform the court until now.”

  “Seems like the ADA needs to beef up their security,” Reed said, glancing at Knox with that same smirk on his face.