The Safe House

by Kiki Swinson

  “I can definitely see that,” Detective Caesar commented.

  “Me too,” another voice said.

  “Yeah, that’s plausible,” someone else said.

  “Okay, so we may have a motive here. Now I’m gonna need you guys to comb through this place very thoroughly. Too many dead bodies are popping up. So let’s get a handle on it and let’s do it now,” Belle demanded.

  * * *

  It took all those cops a total of five damn hours to collect all the evidence they needed. When they finally filed out of here, one by one, it felt like a ton of anxiety lifted from my shoulders. I let out a long sigh of relief and then I laid my head down on my duffel bag.

  Thinking about everything I heard from the police got my mind racing. Okay, so they got one thing right, which was that the two guys that ran away from this apartment weren’t real cops. But as far as who they think killed Mrs. Mabel, they were all wrong. Terrell’s family or close friends had nothing to do with Mrs. Mabel’s murder. But if they wanted to believe they did it, then so be it. My main priority was me. Not only was Ahmad, along with his henchman, looking for me, but Agent Sims and Detective Belle were too. So, as soon as they pulled my DNA from the towel and bath cloth I left behind, they’re gonna think I murdered Mrs. Mabel and they’d have me on something like America’s Most Wanted. Once that happened, I wouldn’t be able to stay in this area. Finding somewhere to go was what I needed to concentrate on.

  I had no idea where I was going to go. Nor did I know what I was going to do. I had no plans. All I had were the keys to Mrs. Mabel’s car. So I figured that if I could use it to get away from here, I’d have a clearer mind to be able to come up with a good plan. “Okay, Misty, it’s time to go. You gotta get out of here before someone else comes here,” I whispered to myself.

  After building up enough courage, I finally willed myself to climb back out of the ceiling space. On my way down, I made every step carefully. I wanted to be as quiet as a mouse. Getting caught was not an option for me. Once I had landed with my feet placed firmly on the floor, I slid the closet door back as quiet as I could. I stood still for a moment to see if I could hear any movement. After realizing that there was no more movement in the house, I stepped out of the closet and tiptoed over to the bedroom door. I peered around the corner of Mrs. Mabel’s bedroom and into the hallway. I looked toward the front door, where her body had been, and it was gone. I was relieved to see that. I was even more relieved when I walked around the apartment and saw that I was alone. But the cops and forensic officers had left a lot of black dust and markers around the apartment to let someone know that they had been there. It was one of those crime scenes that you’d see in a movie. I stood there and looked down at the puddle of blood and felt so bad that Mrs. Mabel was murdered because of me. I mean, if she hadn’t picked me up at the freaking grocery store and brought me into her home, she’d still be alive now. Probably watching her favorite shows. But no, the moment I stepped foot into this apartment, everything went downhill from there. I had a hand in creating this lady’s demise. Now, how fucked up was that?

  I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to leave this apartment just like that. I also knew that in order for me to leave this place without being seen, I was gonna have to move strategically. That might entail leaving here with a wig on and sunglasses. I might also need to leave here when it got dark outside. More important, whenever I did decide to walk out of this apartment, no one, including the agents, cops, or Ahmad, could be able to see me. If they did, then I’d be fucked.

  16

  GETTING REVENGE

  While I waited for the perfect time to leave, I kept my eyes fixed on the parking lot area of my neighborhood. It seemed like every time I saw a good chance for me to walk out of this place, I either saw one of my neighbors walking by or hanging out in the parking lot with someone else. I swear, I was about to pull my fucking hair out. It was becoming a little nerve-racking, to say the least.

  After waiting in the living room for another hour or so, I finally saw my opportunity to leave. There were no cops around watching the apartment building, nor did I see any federal agents camped outside in their cars. This was my time, so I grabbed my duffel bag and raced toward the front door. Immediately after I opened the front door to leave, a Channel 10 news station van pulled up into the parking space next to Mrs. Mabel’s car.

  “Nooooooo! This can’t be happening,” I whined softly. One part of me wanted to rush toward Mrs. Mabel’s car and get into it before this news crew set up. But then, the other part of me wanted to turn around and go back into Mrs. Mabel’s apartment. “Shit! This can’t be happening. Ugh!” I said once more, and then I sighed heavily.

  The distance between Mrs. Mabel’s car and the news station van from where I was standing was too close, and I knew that I wasn’t going to make it in time before either the news reporter or the camera guy would see me.

  “Damn! I just can’t get a break!” I cursed, and then I turned back around. But instead of going back into Mrs. Mabel’s apartment, I opened my front door and slid in there without anyone noticing it. I was pissed that I couldn’t lock my front door after closing it. I did stick one of my kitchen table chairs underneath the doorknob, hoping to keep anyone from getting into my apartment. This was just a temporary fix, but it worked.

  I dropped my duffel bag down on the floor and peered out the window of my living room. Trying to figure out what this reporter was about to say had me on edge. I mean, I knew it’s her job, but damn, can’t you just leave well enough alone? I was trying to get out of this place and they were keeping me hostage. I was not supposed to be in my apartment right now. What if the cops decided that they wanted to come back and reexamine some areas in my apartment? I’d be screwed up if that shit happened, because not only would they be able to sneak into my place from the back of the apartment building, they’d be able to come into my apartment without unlocking the door. Okay, so I pushed one of my kitchen chairs to hold the door back, but that wouldn’t hold up against the pressure of a couple of cops. They’d be able to kick that door in on the first try. Hopefully, that wouldn’t happen. I prayed to God that it wouldn’t.

  I stood there on pins and needles and my heart racing, trying to figure out what was going to be said. Would the news reporter mention what had happened in my apartment, or would she only cover the murder of Mrs. Mabel? Lord knows, all eyes would be on this place as soon as the camera started rolling.

  A few of my neighbors started coming outside to see what was going on. They began to huddle around one another in a circle. A couple of them looked in the direction of my apartment, as well as Mrs. Mabel’s apartment, since they were connected. I wondered what they were saying. The mere thought that I was a topic of their discussion caused me a serious amount of shame and embarrassment. This wasn’t how my life was supposed to be. So, how can I stop it? How can I take things back to where they were? I swear, I don’t know how much more of this that I can take. Hopefully, not much more.

  The camera started rolling when I saw the light illuminating from it and that’s when I knew this thing was for real. I couldn’t make out what the black woman was saying, because not only was her back facing the building, she was too far away for me to hear anything. So I rushed over to my television and turned it on. After it came on, I turned to the news channel and there they were reporting live outside.

  “I’m standing in front of building 210 of Kings Grant Apartments, where an elderly woman was murdered inside of her apartment. She was found dead from two fatal gunshot wounds to her abdomen a little before one o’clock today. I spoke with several neighbors, who say that she was a beautiful and kind lady, so to hear that she was murdered was both shocking and sad. The woman’s identity will be released, once her family is notified. As of right now, investigators have no suspects or motive. Anyone with information is urged to call the crime line. I’m Christian Lundy, and I’m reporting for Ten on Your Side.”

  “Hey, I see a light in
that apartment next door,” someone a few feet away from the cameraman said.

  This caught the eyes and ears of the reporter. “What are you talking about?” the reporter asked as she walked over toward the woman standing a couple feet away from her. The cameraman turned his camera directly at a full-figured black woman dressed in an oversized blouse and blue pants.

  I watched the woman as she pointed toward my apartment. Caught off guard by this sudden change of events, I raced over to the window to see if my neighbor was actually pointing at my apartment. When I opened my blinds, just enough to see, I gasped for air at what happened next.

  “What do you mean someone is in the apartment?” the news reporter questioned my neighbor as she damn near shoved her microphone in her face.

  “That other apartment next to the one with the yellow crime tape. It belongs to the lady the police are looking for. That apartment has been dark for days, because no one has been there. But now it looks like someone is there. Yeah, see someone is looking out of the window.” My neighbor continued as if she was a private investigator, solving a damn problem; that’s when I let the blinds go and stepped back from the window.

  “Did you get that, Jim?” I heard the news reporter say while the live report was airing.

  “Yep, I’m still rolling,” I heard him acknowledge.

  “It has been alleged that a woman wanted by the local police may, in fact, be hiding in her apartment. I have her neighbor here who just noticed movement in that apartment. My cameraman, Jim, and I are on our way up to this apartment to check things out.” The news reporter continued to report, all while making her way up to my apartment. But I couldn’t let her come up here and see me. If I did, then I’d be sealing my own fate. I was either gonna be captured by the DEA or by Ahmad and his crew. So the best thing for me to do was to get the hell out of here.

  Without hesitation I powered off my television, grabbed my duffel bag, and ran over toward the front door. I removed the kitchen chair that secured the doorknob, snatched the front door open, and then made a run for it. Instead of running toward the front entrance of the complex, I made a run for the back of the apartment complex.

  “Hey, wait. Stop!” I heard the news reporter yelling for me to stop. I ignored her and kept running. I was not about to let this lady put me on camera. But then I stumbled over a glass bottle and slipped and fell down on the ground. Pain shot through my ankle. “Fuck!” I said, gritting my teeth. And before I could stand back up, the news reporter had managed to catch up with me. The high voltage of light coming from the camera nearly blinded me. The news reporter leaned down toward me, almost shoving her microphone down my throat. “Hey, are you the woman that the police are looking for? Did you know anything about your neighbor’s murder? And were you hiding inside of that apartment?” Her questions continued.

  “Get that damn camera out of my face. I am innocent of all that shit the cops are trying to plant on me. And I saw who killed Mrs. Mabel!” I said after I finally stood up on my feet.

  “Who was it?” the reporter asked me, keeping the microphone in my face.

  “It was the mafia that kidnapped my mother and her boyfriend. Now tell the cops to go and do their jobs and try to find out where they are and leave me alone,” I spat out, and then I ran off again with my duffel bag in hand.

  “Well, there you have it, folks. The young woman from that apartment just sent Virginia Beach their first clue. Now let’s see if they take it and use it. I’m Christian Lundy reporting for Ten on Your Side.”

  After running three blocks, I felt like I was finally out of the woods. More important, I felt a little liberated. Not to the point that I just cleared my name, but to allow the world to see and hear me say who really killed Mrs. Mabel, and that Ahmad and his family had my mother, and the cops needed to do something about it.

  I thought about finding a back way to enter into my mother’s house, but I knew the cops and Agent Sims would come there looking for me, since I went back into my apartment after I felt that it would be safe to do so. If I went back into my place, there was a huge possibility that they’d come looking for me at my mom’s house too. So I left well enough alone and decided to figure out another place to go. But before I did that, I hid behind the nearest tree and changed my shirt, since the entire viewing audience saw what I was wearing on TV. I even put on the wig I took from Mrs. Mabel’s apartment. I didn’t have a mirror on hand, but I knew that I had a good disguise. I just hoped that it kept me undetected until I could find another safe haven.

  17

  KISS MY ASS

  Trying to figure out where I was going to hide out had become harder than I expected. I’d been walking for an hour and a half now. I was pissed off that I didn’t get a chance to take Mrs. Mabel’s car. The freaking news reporter snatched that option from me when she started running down behind me. What am I going to do now?

  Luckily, it was dark out, because if it wasn’t, the cops would probably have me in handcuffs right now. Speaking of cops, a total of three cops had already passed me. I can’t tell you why they weren’t looking out for me, but I can tell you that I was fortunate that they weren’t.

  I walked up Virginia Beach Boulevard and approached the traffic light at the corner of Newtown Road. At this intersection, I saw a truck that looked like my mother’s boyfriend’s son’s truck. His name was Carl Jr. I wasn’t sure how old he was, but I knew he was over the age of twenty-five.

  I raced toward the truck before the light turned green. And by the time I approached the passenger side of the truck, I was disappointed to find out that the driver wasn’t him. “Ugh!” I said, and let out a long sigh.

  While I turned around to get back to the sidewalk, that’s when it hit me that I should reach out to Carl Jr. If I could get him to help me get my mother back, everything I was doing would be worth it. But I figured that it would only work if he believed that his father was alive but in harm’s way. So, as of right now, that’s what it was going to be.

  After walking a block and a half, I was able to flag down a taxicab. The driver was a black older woman. She was in her own world listening to her gospel music. The only words she uttered when I got in her car were “Good evening. And where are you going?”

  I spoke back to her and requested to be taken to Norfolk. I told her that I didn’t know the exact address, but I knew the name of the street. With that, she said okay and then we headed uptown.

  The entire drive to Norfolk, I bounced words back and forth in my head, trying to figure out how I was going to approach him when I asked him for his help. I knew I had to be convincing, because this guy really didn’t know me. He’d only seen me maybe twice, if not three times. And all of them were at Thanksgiving and Christmas get-togethers. I just hoped that he didn’t turn me away or call the cops on me. If he did, then I was going to be screwed.

  Approximately fifteen minutes later, the cabdriver had gotten me to my destination. “We’re on Thirty-fourth Street,” she announced.

  I sat up in the back seat, trying to eyeball the block. This street was a one-way street, so for all I knew, the cops could be watching his house. So I needed to be extra careful. “Could you drive all the way down and circle the block?” I asked her.

  “Sure,” she said.

  Halfway down the block, I recognized Carl Jr.’s town house. It was located to the left side of the street. I also recognized his truck parked in the driveway. Only one light was on in his house, and that light was coming from his bedroom. That gave me hope that he was, in fact, inside the house.

  When the taxi driver made a left turn to circle back around to get back on Thirty-fourth Street, I stopped her. “You know what? Just pull the car over. I’m gonna get out right here,” I instructed the woman.

  She pulled her cab over to the side of the road. Immediately after I paid her from the money I took from Mrs. Mabel’s purse, I got out of the car and walked onto the sidewalk. I saw an entryway alongside an old house, which would give me a way to
hop the fence to get to Carl Jr.’s house. Thankfully, there were no dogs in sight, barking and alarming neighbors that something or someone was coming.

  I climbed an old, raggedy metal fence that separated Carl Jr.’s backyard from the other land owned by the homeowners that lived around him. The backyard of his home was completely black. This was good for me, being in the dark and everything. I climbed onto the back porch and knocked on his door, as lightly as I could. I just hoped that I was doing it loud enough for him to hear.

  The first four tries hadn’t worked, so I was forced to knock harder. After doing it another four times, I finally got Carl Jr.’s attention. As soon as he walked to the back door, I heard him shouting, asking who was at his door. I told him who I was, and almost at that instant, he opened the door. He stood on the other side of the screen door, with his cell phone against his ear, and just looked at me. “Can I come in?” I asked him.

  “Hey, Mom, let me call you back,” he said, and then I watched him as he disconnected his call. A couple of seconds later, he unlocked the screen door and pushed it open. “Hey, you’re Misty, right?” he said after he opened the door.

  “Yes.”

  “Come in,” he insisted, and quickly moved out of the way.

  I stood to the side of him after I crossed the threshold. “Would you please close your door?” I asked. He saw the alarmed look I had on my face.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said, and immediately closed the door. “I just saw you on TV. But your hair wasn’t like that.”