Black 01 - Black Rain (23 page)

“Hello, my name is Myron. Welcome to the Peppercorn Duck Club. How many in your party today, sir?”

“Seven, Myron,” Dread answers, looking at Chase and his men and rolling his eyes.

“Very good. Walk this way please,” Myron instructs as he sashays to their table with a little extra snap in his hips for Dread’s pleasure.

Chase surveys the half-filled restaurant and sees Detective Joe Johnson’s troublesome ex-girlfriend, Tracy Jackson, seated with three female friends. She tries to go unnoticed, but Tracy quickly looks up and gives her
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an evil gaze. Chase tries to act like she doesn’t notice.

She swears this woman has to be Satan’s child. Tracy works as a television anchor and used to be a reporter, so the last thing Chase wants is for her to start sticking her nose in her business and mess up this case. She makes sure that her seat is not facing Tracy’s and hopes she catches the hint not to bother her.

Their last meeting had not been a good one. Chase had had to confront Tracy in the ladies’ room, when they needed information and had tried to avoid her going public with a story that would have blown the case on which Joe, Vernon and she were working.

Tracy has been a thorn in Joe’s side for several years.

She has a romantic interest in him. She was his girlfriend before Joe married Sierra. He’s confided in Chase several times that at one point he felt as though she was stalking him. Chase just hopes Tracy stays where she is, because she’s not in the mood for any nonsense.

Chase waves to Myron and he comes over from his post.

“May I help you, ma’am?”

“Yes, you can. Where is the ladies’ room?” she looks deep into his eyes, hoping he will get the hint that she wants him to show her where it is.

“Let me show you, if you don’t mind,” Myron says on cue, winking at her.

She excuses herself and follows Myron to the ladies’

room. They pass Tracy’s table, and Tracy eyes her. When they are out of Dread’s view, she takes Myron’s hand.

Myron throws up his hands and takes a step back.

“Look, baby, you might not have noticed, and I know you cute and all, but I am not into women. Don’t get me
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wrong, if I was, you would definitely be my type, girlfriend,” he says, smiling.

She grabs Myron by the arm. “Please, Myron, it’s not that kinda party. I need you to take this film and have it taken by courier to the downtown Police Department, care of Commissioner Wayne for Detective Joe Johnson.” She shows him her badge. “Here’s three hundred dollars. That should take care of the thirty-dollar fee for the courier and you can keep the change for yourself.

Not a word of this to
anyone.
” She stares hard at him.

Myron raises his eyebrows and leans back with his hand on his chest, “Okay, Cop Lady, thanks. But, you don’t have to be all up in my space, grabbing on me.

Next time just ask,
okay?
” Myron’s well-manicured hands are on his slender hips as he checks his face in the mirror on the wall and smooths his clothes.

Chase kisses Myron on the cheek as he leaves to send off the package, and enters the bathroom. At the sink, she has just washed her hands, and is checking her face and hair in the mirror, when Tracy walks up behind her.

She flips her hair, checks her teeth, lips and face and eyes Chase’s reflection as she applies lipstick. “So, Agent Whatchamacallit, where’s your friend, Detective Johnson? He kicked you to the curb, and you decided to go Cuban or what?” she asks with a sneer, snapping her fingers as if she’s trying to remember her name.

Chase turns to face her. The nerve of the bitch. The pissed-off look she gives her makes Tracy back up a little.

“Joe is none of your concern. Furthermore, who I date is none of your damn business. I suggest you stay out of my space and out of my way. You’re venturing into dangerous territory, girl. So why don’t you just go
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join your stuck-up friends before you start to piss me off, TV Lady?” She brings her face so close to Tracy’s that she can feel her breath on her face.

“You…you…you don’t scare me, I know you’re hot on Joe, I’m not stupid. It’s all over your face. If Joe is going to be with anybody, it’s going to be me. So, you need to step off,” Tracy says as she rolls her eyes at Chase, and sucks her teeth.

Chase wants to haul off and hit her in the face, but can’t afford to create a scene when things are going so good. She looks at Tracy as though she’s just called her newborn child ugly.

“Look, you crazy bitch, stay out of my face, and keep out of my way, or I promise you, I’ll make your life a living hell. Okay, Tracy?”

Tracy and Chase just stare at each other for forty seconds. Tracy pivots at the door and holds it open. “I got your crazy bitch, bitch. I know you’re up to something and Joe has to be nearby, but I’ll get to the bottom of it.

You can count on that.” She flicks her hair, rolls her eyes and leaves the room.

Tracy is trouble, Chase thinks. She has what used to be called a graveyard love for Joe—the kind of love a woman will take to her grave. It’s an obsessive-compulsive kind of love, but there is much truth in what she is saying. Chase does want Joe for her own.

Yes, he’s a married man, but she would still settle just to have a piece of him. Although it’s wrong, and although she likes Sierra, she knows what she wants—Joe Johnson. Tracy’s no threat to her friendship with Joe, but she is a threat to this case.

She considers calling Agent James, but can’t shake
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the feeling that something is not right with him. Can she trust him? And what are his dealings with the governor?

Could Agent James be on the take and pulling Dread’s strings? He sure could have the crooks and the cops chasing each other. They would all be on a line and he could play them like puppets against each other. They kill each other off, and he walks away, never a suspect and with all the cash. That’s a sweet plan, but Chase is not about to be played.

She gathers herself and returns to the table where the men are talking, laughing, eating appetizers and having drinks. Tracy stares at her from the other table and she can see her whispering to her friends as they all laugh and begin to cut their eyes at her. Chase ignores them and sits down.

Dread looks curiously at Chase and then at the table with the women who seem to be taunting her. “Is everything okay? Are those friends of yours or something?”

Chase glances at Dread and then back at the menu,

“Naw, she’s just some stupid reporter who got too close to a case I was working on early in my career, and I had to check her. She’s hasn’t got over it and is still being silly about it, that’s all.”

Dread places his hand on hers, “Do you want me to go over and slap da shit out of all of dem and shut them up for you?” Dread strokes her hair.

“Dread, I can handle my own battles, and she’s not worth it. I’m fine,” she says, taking her hand from under his.

Dread looks over at the table, smiles and gives them the finger as the men at his table laugh. People around
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them look to see what the laughter is about, but Chase pulls down Dread’s finger and they continue as if nothing had happened.

After they eat, Dread passes envelopes to all the men that contain ten thousand dollars each. He says they should spoil themselves at the Plaza in Midtown Kansas City. They are to meet in the lobby in one hour. Chase will try to get a chance to call Joe’s and Vernon’s office, as well as Commissioner Wayne’s, to tell them where she will be. Hopefully, they’ll check their messages.

Chapter 15

We are speeding down the highway back to Kansas City to catch up with Dread and his crew. Vernon calls me from my parents’ home. He is a true friend and instead of going home to mend his own wounds, he and Agent Duvall go to my father’s. He tells me my dad is not doing well, and I should get there as soon as possible. I promise him that I will.

The day is beautiful, full of sunshine and blue skies, with temperatures in the midseventies. I check to make sure that Pretty Kevin, Little Tiny and Mo-Mo are handling the big motorcycles. They have ridden before, but these are much bigger and more powerful bikes than they have been used to. They are doing just fine and have huge grins on their faces as we roll down the open highway in formation. We picked up the bikes at the Omaha Federal Bureau of Investigation vehicle im-Vincent Alexandria

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pound garage. It made sense for us to travel as Dread travels. That way no obstacles or barriers exist if we need to get to them.

It was cool for Agent James to call ahead and get clearance for us. That guy has more pull than I thought.

I still have my doubts about him. That’s a lot of power for one man to have, but I appreciate what he has done for us thus far.

I got the 2002 VRSCA V-Rod Harley-Davidson and the others all get the 2002 FXSTDI Softail Deuce motorcycles.

When we get into the city we ride to my parents’

home to meet Vernon and my family, and so I can check on my dad.

Our ride from the tall plate-glass buildings and windy streets of downtown to my parents’ home is pretty great. It’s been some time since I last rode a motorcycle. It gives you a sense of freedom and the open air consumes you. We ride in formation, two by two. Me and Pretty Kevin followed by Little Tiny and Mo-Mo.

I took the liberty of unloading the guns from the Range Rover and transferring them to the saddle bags strapped to the backs of each of our Harleys. I have a feeling that Dread is in town and if he is, I know a showdown is inevitable. I plan to be ready.

We arrive at my parents’ three-story, white-stone home and park the bikes in front on the wide sidewalk.

When we enter, Sierra jumps into my arms, and squeezes me tight. Her eyes are sad, but her smile is beautiful. The kids are close behind and they all take hold of me. Vernon waves the fellas into the kitchen,
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where I’m sure more of my family is. I introduce the fellas to my wife and family as they pass us.

“Friends, this is my lovely wife, Sierra, and these are my kids, Vernie, Joe, Jr. and Nia. Family, you guys know Pretty Kevin, this here is Mo-Mo, the big guy here is Little Tiny and I see you all have met the beautiful agent Epiphany Duvall,” I say.

“Nice to meet you nice people,” Little Tiny says as he shakes all their hands, and continues into the kitchen.

I turn to my wife. “How’s Dad?”

Sierra buries her head in my chest and holds me tight.

“Not doing too good, Joe. His system is slowly shutting down. He hasn’t opened his eyes in thirty hours, but he can flare his nostrils and raise his eyebrows to let you know he hears you. Joe, he’s lost a lot of weight and they have him wearing an adult diaper. I just didn’t want you to be shocked by his appearance, baby. I know it will be hard for you to see him like this.” She looks at me with sad eyes and pulls me close into her embrace.

“Sierra, I just want to tell you how much I appreciate and love you for being here with my family. You mean the world to me, and I promise to never let you down, baby. I’m nothing without you. I needed to tell you that.” I kiss my wife.

Sierra’s twin sister, Diamond, comes downstairs and we embrace. “Hey, brother-in-law, your mom is asking for you upstairs.”

I grasp my wife’s hands and kiss her on the cheek, then go up the stairs and head toward my parents’ bedroom. I feel as if someone has taken a sledgehammer and hit me in the chest as memories flood my mind.

On my first hunting trip with my father, I almost
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stepped on top of a copperhead. My father grabbed me and pulled me back while simultaneously cocking the shotgun with one hand and firing the twelve-gauge, ripping the snake into several pieces.

I remember the first time I saw my father cry. It was when his mother died. He went into the dark bathroom and let his emotions pour out of him. I sat next to him on the edge of the tub, put my arm around him, told him that she was with God, and that everything would be okay. I remember how he pulled me to him and cried on my shoulder. We were best friends after that.

At our family barbecues, he’d gather us all together to compete with another family in a softball game. My dad would always be the pitcher. He was good, too.

Dad was good about bringing people together to have fun. He has a good heart.

My brothers and sisters hug me as they leave the room to give me and Dad some time alone.

Mom walks up to me. “Joseph, I’m glad you’re home and safe, baby. Your father doesn’t have much time left with us. They’re giving him pure morphine for the pain and to keep him comfortable.You know he loves you, son.

Talk to him. Tell him how you feel, because this might be your last opportunity to do so. We’ll all be downstairs if you need us. I’ll check on you in a few minutes.” Mom kisses me on the forehead and leaves the room.

I go to my father’s bedside. My heart just dies. I can’t help but wish it were me lying there instead of him. He is a shell of himself, but an aura of strength radiates from his body. He looks regal. His skin seems to be darker, and his muscles have receded and rest lazily upon his bones. I kiss my dad on the cheek and rub his head.

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My body feels full and the tears begin to flow as I hug this man I love so much. I lean over and talk to him.

“Dad, what can I say that you don’t already know?

I’m glad that you are my father, you did everything for me and you taught me how to love life and myself. You are my best friend in the world and I’m so very proud of you and what you are to this family. Thank you for the love you’ve given. I know you’re in pain. We’ll take care of each other, Daddy. When you are ready, go ahead and cross over. You’ve fought long enough and it’s time for you to rest.” I am on the verge of breaking down.