Anybody's Daughter (Angela Evans Series No. 2) (4 page)

A
ngela spotted the patrol car halfway down the block the second Dre turned onto Magnolia Street. She glanced over at him, anxiety rumbling in her chest. Dre had an innate distrust of cops. But if something tragic had really happened to Brianna, they would need the help of law enforcement. Dre would need to keep his animosity in check.

The Volkswagen Jetta screeched to a stop and the driver’s door swung open even before Dre had turned off the engine. Angela tumbled out of the car and had to jog to catch up with him.

As she trailed behind, Angela wished she were meeting Dre’s family for the first time under better circumstances.

A woman’s hysterical shriek pierced the air as they reached the front door.

“What the hell do you mean we need to wait? Somebody took my baby! You need to do one of those Amber Alert things.”

Dre opened the screen door and stepped inside. His sister was standing toe-to-toe with a red-faced officer who was shaped like a fireplug.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s no evidence that your daughter’s been taken. We don’t have enough evidence to proceed with an Amber Alert.”

“She hasn’t come home! Of course she’s been taken!”

“Ma’am, I really need you to calm down. You don’t know for sure that your daughter didn’t run off. Does she have a boyfriend?”

“No she does not! And my daughter wouldn’t run—” Donna spotted Dre and rocketed into his arms.

A frenzy of words shot from her mouth as if they’d been fired from a machine gun.

“Brianna was supposed to walk to school with Sydney, but she never came over and they didn’t really have a Math Club meeting and she doesn’t know where Brianna is and—”

Dre’s fingers curved around Donna’s shoulders. “C’mon, sis, you gotta calm down. We’re gonna find her, okay? Bree’s gonna be fine.”

“You don’t know that!” Donna wailed, her nose runny. “Somebody took my baby!”

Dre led her over to the couch and forced her to sit, then gave an older woman sitting next to her a hug. “Hey, Mama.”

Angela remained near the door, out of the way. Dre’s mother gave Angela a curious look, but didn’t speak.

“I’m Andre Thomas.” Dre’s tone was suddenly formal. “Brianna’s my niece. There’s no way she’d run off. What’s being done to find her?”

“We don’t really know that she’s missing yet.”

Angela stepped forward. “She didn’t show up at school and it’s after eight o’clock and no one knows where she is. That means she’s missing. Don’t you have some kind of protocol to follow for missing children?”

The officer grunted. “Yeah, but not for runaways. We—”

“My child is not a runaway!” Donna yelled. “She has no reason to run away. She’s a good kid.” She turned to Angela. “And who are you?”

Angela swallowed. “I’m—”

“This is Angela,” Dre said. “A friend of mine. She’s also a lawyer.”

Donna’s eyes registered recognition and Angela could practically see the news reports playing in her eyes.

Dre turned back to the cop. “And even if she did leave on her own, it doesn’t mean she isn’t in danger. She’s only thirteen.”

“But you don’t know for sure that she’s in danger,” the officer insisted.

“And you don’t know for sure that she isn’t,” Angela fired back. She’d been worried about Dre going off on the police and here she was ready to go ballistic herself.

“Call the TV stations,” Donna ordered. “We need to get Brianna’s picture on TV.”

The cop’s blue-green eyes rolled skyward. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“If my baby was some blonde-headed white girl, I bet there’d be cameras and news reporters all up and down the street by now,” Donna cried. “But because my baby is black, nobody’s going to do a damn thing to find her. This is racism!”

The cop sighed and turned to Dre. “Do you have a recent picture of your niece?”

Donna started to rise from the couch, but Dre waved her back down. He glanced around the room, then snatched a framed picture from a sofa table.

“This is her most recent school picture. It’s only a few months old.”

The officer wrote down Brianna’s height and weight and a description of the clothes she was wearing.

“We need to make some posters,” Donna mumbled, seemingly to herself. “And call the TV stations.”

“What about Brianna’s father?” the officer asked. “Could he be involved?”

Donna shot up from the couch. “No, he couldn’t! My husband died in Iraq defending this country!”

She crumpled back to the couch and into her mother’s embrace. Both of them were sobbing now. Though eight years had passed since her husband’s death, Donna had never fully recovered from the loss. At times, her severe bouts of depression had left her unable to work or properly care for Brianna. His sister would not survive another tragedy.

“We’ll need to check her email and Facebook accounts,” the officer said, continuing to scribble on his notepad.

“I don’t allow her on Facebook,” Donna sniffed. “We have the same Gmail account and I check her emails every week.”

“Does she have a smartphone?” the officer asked.

“Yeah,” Dre said.

“Then she probably has a Facebook account you know nothing about. Most teenagers do these days.”

Donna was on her feet again. “I know my child! How dare you say—”

“Donna! Stop it!” Dre shouted. “This isn’t helping.”

He looked at the officer. “She has an iPhone which she never lets out of her sight. I’m sure she took it with her, but I’ll check her room anyway.”

Dre disappeared down a hallway.

The front door opened and a man and woman stepped into the living room. The man resembled Dre, but was both taller and younger. He sat down next to Donna and gave her a hug.

“Anthony, my baby’s gone!”

“Don’t worry, sis. We’re gonna find her.”

Anthony looked up at Angela. “Who are you?”

After a beat of silence, Dre’s mother answered his question. “That’s that girl who was mixed up with that judge and got Dre all over the news.”

All eyes were pinned on Angela now. His family obviously didn’t view her reappearance in his life as a good thing.

“I think I remember that case,” the cop said, wagging his pen at her.

Before Angela could say anything, Dre stepped back into the room, his expression noticeably grim.

“I couldn’t find her phone,” Dre said, walking over to Donna. “But I found this underneath her mattress.” He held up a pink spiral notebook. “Maybe she does have a boyfriend because some dude’s name is scribbled on almost every page. So who the hell is Jaden?”

T
he possibility that Brianna might have a boyfriend her mother knew nothing about sent Donna deeper into hysterics. It took some doing, but Dre had finally convinced her to take a sleeping pill. Now, as he glanced around his sister’s living room, he wondered where all the people had come from.

While his brother and sister-in-law were in the kitchen unpacking food they’d picked up from a nearby barbecue joint, Dre’s mother stood in a circle of her church friends, holding hands and softly praying to Jesus. A host of cousins, neighbors and church folks he’d never seen before stood around the living room acting like they were at a Monday-night wake.

Dre didn’t want any of them there. He needed to think, to plan. He’d already made up his mind that
he
was going to find Brianna. Screw the police.

He’d hated the I-told-you-so look on the officer’s face when Dre produced Brianna’s notebook with all the
I-love-Jaden
doodles. Just because Brianna
might
have a boyfriend they knew nothing about didn’t mean she was a runaway. She was a smart kid. A happy kid. She had no reason to run off.

Dre walked into Donna’s bedroom and Angela followed. Dre expected to find his sister sleeping, but she was sitting on the edge of the bed, rocking back and forth like a heroin addict coming down from a high.

“I wanna talk to Sydney,” Dre said, more to himself.

“We already did.” Donna was dried-eyed now. “She would’ve told me if Brianna had a boyfriend.”

Dre shook his head in disagreement. “Sydney’s her best friend. If Brianna has a boyfriend, Sydney knows about him.”

Angela touched Dre’s forearm. “Let’s go talk to her now.”

They walked the short distance to Sydney’s house and repeatedly pressed the doorbell. Dre didn’t care that it was approaching ten o’clock at night. This was important.

Sydney’s father finally opened the door. His hooded eyes squinted at Dre.

“Hey, Winston,” Dre said with forced collegiality.

Winston looked past Dre to Angela.

“This is my girl—uh, my friend, Angela. I know it’s late, but we need to talk to Sydney.”

An exasperated look crossed Winston Burns’ face. “I’m really sorry about Brianna. But Sydney already told the police everything she knows.”

“I need to talk to her for myself.” Dre wanted to push past him and bolt into Sydney’s bedroom. “It’s important, man. Please.”

“It’s kinda late and Sydney’s already asleep. Why don’t you come back in the morning?”

Dre didn’t want to come back in the morning. He needed to talk to Sydney tonight. After a few seconds, a soft voice broke the stalemate.

“Daddy, I’m not sleep.”

Dre peered past Winston and saw Sydney dressed in a knee-length nightshirt.

Winston grudgingly stepped aside and let them in. Sydney’s mother greeted them from a hallway.

Winston showed Dre and Angela into the kitchen, where they all converged around a small wooden table. Sydney sat at the north end of the table, with the adults lined up on all sides. The low-hanging light fixture gave the room the feel of a police interrogation.

“Sydney,” Dre began, trying to conceal his distress, “you told the police that Brianna didn’t have a boyfriend. Is that the truth?”

Sydney’s eyes darted in the direction of her father.

“We know about Jaden,” Dre said gently, not wanting to scare the girl. “We need you to tell us what you know. Brianna could be in danger.”

Sydney hung her head. “Brianna didn’t want nobody to know about Jaden. That’s why I didn’t tell nobody.”

Winston glowered at his daughter. “You sat up here and lied to the police? Do you know that—”

Dre held up a hand, silencing Winston. “That’s okay. Just tell us the truth now.”

“Brianna met him on Facebook,” Sydney said, staring down at the table. “That’s all I know.”

Dre’s right knee bounced with angst. “Brianna had a Facebook page?”

“It was private, so her mother couldn’t see it. She had a Yahoo account and a Gmail address too.”

“Have you ever met Jaden?” Dre asked.

Sydney swung her head in a slow, wide sweep. “Nope. Neither has Brianna as far as I know.”

Dre squinted as if a shock of light had suddenly blinded him. “How could he be her boyfriend if they’d never met?”

“People hook up on Facebook all the time.” Sydney quickly added, “but I don’t do that.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“Someplace in L.A. Not too far from USC.”

“Did Brianna tell you they were planning to meet today?”

“Nope.” Sydney raised her palm in the air. “I swear on the Bible. Jaden didn’t like her to tell nobody their business. But she told me some stuff anyway.”

“Like what?”

“Uh, well, he’s an A student just like us. He’s fourteen and he goes to Foshay Middle School and First A.M.E. Church.”

Dre rubbed his chin. Finally they were getting some information they could use.

“Do you know his last name?”

Sydney smiled, glad to be of help. “Yep. Johnson. Jaden Johnson. He has one sister and his mother is a teacher at Crenshaw High.”

“Did Brianna ever show you a picture of Jaden?”

“Yep,” she said, blushing. “He’s cute.”

Her father grumbled and Sydney started twirling the ring on her baby finger.

“Uh…you wanna see his Facebook page?”

“Absolutely,” Dre said.

Sydney ran to her bedroom and came back with her laptop, the screen already lit.

Her father grimaced. “Why is that on? I told you to turn that thing off an hour ago.”

“Winston, stop fussing at the child,” her mother said. “We need to concentrate on Brianna right now.”

Sydney hit several keys on the computer, then turned it around for all of them to see.

Jaden Johnson was a clean-cut kid whose Facebook profile described him as a Christian who was saving himself for marriage. He had 345 Facebook friends, was a Pisces, loved science fiction movies, and planned to be a lawyer. Dre scanned the postings on Jaden’s page and found absolutely nothing that caused him any concern.

A knot of apprehension settled deep in Dre’s stomach. “Do you know the passwords to Brianna’s Facebook and Yahoo accounts?” Dre wanted to study Brianna’s accounts for clues about Jaden.

Sydney hesitated, then gave up the information, which Dre noted in his smartphone.

“The boy sounds like a good kid,” Sydney’s father said. “At least she didn’t run off with some thug.”

Dre wanted to tell Winston to shut the fuck up. Brianna had not run off.

When his eyes finally met Angela’s, he knew they were on the same page. It took a skilled criminal attorney or a street-smart hustler to recognize that this upstanding young man was not what he seemed.

B
rianna had lost all sense of time. She could not tell whether it was late night or early morning, the same day or the next. Her throat was so dry it hurt to swallow.

“Wake up,” Brianna said, shaking Kaylee by the shoulder. “We have to figure out how to get out of here.”

Brianna wished she was still drugged. That way, she wouldn’t feel so cold and hungry and scared.

Kaylee sat up and hugged herself. “They ain’t lettin’ us out, so you might as well forget that. We have to do what they say.”

“No, we don’t,” Brianna insisted. “We have to escape. Have you seen the rest of the house?”

“Yeah.”

“Who else is here?”

“At least six other girls right now. But it changes every day. Some of ’em like it here. They’re gonna try to get you to like it too. They rather be here than in a group home.”

“I don’t have to be in no group home!” Brianna started to cry. “Me and my mama have a house and I’m going home!”

They heard a rattling sound and the door opened. Two girls stepped inside the room. They were probably sixteen or seventeen, but their scant clothes and heavy makeup made them look much older. The shorter one had a pretty face and was wearing a short, red wig. The taller one was toothpick-skinny and had tattoos up and down her arms.

“If y’all ready to act right, we’ll let you out of here so you can eat.” The tattooed girl threw Kaylee an oversized T-shirt. “Put that on.”

Brianna decided to play it smart. She would pretend to go along with everything they said and when she got her chance, she was going to escape.

“I’m thirsty,” Brianna mumbled. “Can I have some water?”

“Yeah, but then we gotta have a meeting. My name is Shantel,” the tattooed one said.

“And this is Tameka. We in charge of the new girls. We gonna teach you what to do.”

Shantel led them down a hallway into a messy kitchen that was half the size of the room where they’d been imprisoned. Half-eaten plates, balled-up paper bags, and other debris competed for space on the countertops. A roach hovered on the edge of the sink, surrounded by a cloud of gnats. The sour smell in the kitchen was as bad as the stench in the bedroom.

Brianna and Kaylee sat down at a scratched up glass table. Brianna began surveying the room for windows and doors that might serve as her escape. There was a kitchen window, a back door and a window in what looked like a family room adjacent to the kitchen. Every window was covered with iron bars.

“I see you lookin’ around,” Shantel said, fingering her long electric blue braids. “You try to escape and all you gonna get is an ass whippin’.”

Shantel went to the sink, filled a paper cup with water and gave it to Brianna. She saw something floating on top and wanted to ask for a clean cup. Instead, she picked it out, then hungrily guzzled down the water.

“Okay, this house is all about the money,” Shantel began. “The more money you make, the better treatment you get. Your first time with a john is gonna be a little scary. But after that, it ain’t that bad. You probably been molested by somebody in your family anyway. So at least this way, you get paid for givin’ it up.”

“I haven’t been molested!” Brianna shouted. “Nobody in my family would ever do that.”

“Yeah, sure,” Shantel said, rolling her eyes. “Then you must’ve been giving it up for free, which is stupid. Now you ’bout to make some money.”

“I’m a virgin and I’m staying a virgin until I get married!” Brianna declared.

Tameka looked as if she felt sorry for her. Kaylee pressed her hands to her face, and started to cry again.

“I can tell right now that this little heffa is gonna be a big problem.” Shantel pointed a gold fingernail at Brianna. “That mouth of yours is gonna get you in big trouble. Clint and Freda don’t put up with no back talkin’.”

“I don’t care what you do to me. I’m not going to be a prostitute and you can’t make me!”

Shantel laughed, held up her hand and gave Tameka a high-five.

“That’s what they all say.”