The Choir Director 2 (25 page)

Every time I thought about TK putting me out, I felt the veins in my neck wanting to pop. Okay, so technically he didn't walk me to the door and toss me out along with all my things, but telling me that he was through staying in his office and that I had to go was the same thing. I spent the night alone in my house, the one I'd owned before I married him. I hadn't been back there since Tia left, and let's just say that her housekeeping skills left room for improvement.

Coming back to our house the next day to gather some more of my things, I hoped TK was home. I was determined to talk him out of his desire to end our marriage. He might have forgotten it, but we were a great team, and to have his fit of jealousy and stubbornness ruin our marriage made no sense. We weren't emotional teenagers having a lovers' quarrel; TK and I were grown, and we needed to pull together and set an example for the rest of the congregation. Mature adults don't just cut and run at the first sign of trouble. Hell, as far as I was concerned, TK was one lucky man, given the fact that I remained faithful even when Jackson made it clear on several occasions that he wanted some of this good stuff. I wasn't even tempted. Unlike TK, I knew what a good thing we had.

When the house phone rang, I debated answering it. It could have been my husband, checking to see if I had left and the coast was clear. Then I realized that was ridiculous. Like I said, we were mature adults, and I would act as such. If it was TK on the line, I would tell him that he needed to get back to the house and deal with me. I was his wife, and I deserved to be treated with respect, not like some common floozy he could just kick to the curb. I picked up the phone.

“Hello.” Even I could hear the tension in my voice. Damn, I had to do better than that.

“Hello, First Lady. It's Officer Jeff Watson. How are you today?”

“I'm fine, Jeff. How are you?” I slipped into my professional wife voice, the one that immediately put people at ease. I hoped that this call would be short, though, because I didn't know how long I could keep up the facade. My mind was too full of my own problems. Pretending that everything was all right when my marriage was in jeopardy was no easy task.

“Is the bishop around?” he asked.

“No, he isn't. Can I give him a message?” I reached for the pad and paper I kept handy in every room. When you're married to a man of the cloth, people call your home nonstop. There is no such thing as business hours. TK was available to his flock twenty-four hours a day.

“I told the bishop that I would give him a call if anything came up with regards to Cliff's murder.”

My heart rate increased instantly. I'd been so wrapped up in my marital problems that I hadn't bothered to try to get in touch with Tia after she came to Pippie's funeral and slipped out the back. She had been in the back of my mind, though. What if Jeff was calling to say they had found evidence that implicated Tia in the murders? Suddenly I wasn't in a hurry to get him off the phone. I wanted information.

“Oh, yes. My husband is very concerned about that. Anything you can tell me to put his mind at ease, he would really appreciate.”

“Well, something came up,” he said, hesitant to tell me more.

“What?” I tried not to sound impatient, but I was desperate and fearful.

“Another boy was murdered. Just like the others.”

I struggled to catch my breath. This was bad. Really bad. “And you think they're related?”

“This gentleman was shot in the head, same as the other three, same bloody
R
on his forehead.”

I stifled a scream that threatened to escape. I was terrified for Tia. She had really gone off the deep end.

Somehow, I managed to speak. “How terrible.”

“Please tell the bishop we're adding more detectives to the case. We won't rest until the killer is caught.”

I squeaked out a good-bye to Jeff. “Thank you. I will make sure that TK gets your message.” I hung up as quickly as I could.

I desperately wanted to talk to someone, and the first person to come to mind was Jackson. He was the only one who knew of my suspicions, the only other person who knew Tia had been at Vinnie Taylor's apartment the night he was killed. But reaching out to Jackson had gotten me into too much trouble with TK already. I didn't even want to risk his number showing up on my outgoing calls list. That would be the final nail in the coffin for our marriage.

Calling TK was not an option. He was so mad at me lately that he wouldn't even answer my phone calls. Besides, he would be furious that I hadn't come to him sooner.

The only other person I could think of was Aaron. He knew Tia better than anyone. Maybe he would know what to do—whether it was to find Tia and get her to confess, or to help her go on the run. Either way, I just knew I couldn't bear all of this news on my own.

When Aaron didn't answer his phone, I jumped in my car and headed to the church, hoping to find him there. In the church parking lot, my phone started ringing in my purse. I pulled it out, hoping to see Aaron's name on the screen. It wasn't him.

“Hello, Ross,” I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

Ross, on the other hand, didn't do anything to mask the anxiety in his own voice. “First Lady, we have a major problem,” he said.

“Oh my goodness. What is it?” I asked in alarm. What could be worse than what Tia was doing?

“The bishop has been arrested. He needs you to call a lawyer.”

“What!” I shrieked, almost dropping the phone. “Tell me what's going on, Ross. Where is TK? I need to go see him.”

“First Lady, I will explain everything to you as soon as I can. Right now he needs you to call a lawyer named John Simpkins.”

Three words jumped out at me:
He needs you
.

“I'm going home right now to find John's number. I'm sure TK has it in his contacts list,” I said. “I'll call you as soon as I get to the house.”

Throwing the car into reverse, I raced out of the church parking lot. Tia's problems would have to wait. My husband needed me.

After our talk, the bishop was sent down to Central Booking to be arraigned. Thankfully, I was able to get in touch with Monique, and although she was devastated, she was working on getting him a lawyer. Hopefully he wouldn't remain in lockup for too long.

Meanwhile, I headed toward the church. With Desiree and her girlfriend on the loose, the bishop asked me to meet up with Tia at the church. They'd already tried to attack her once, so he didn't want to take any chances until we figured out what the hell was going on.

“Tia!” I called out her name when I saw her going into the church. She turned at the sound of my voice, stopping to wait on the steps for me. I got out of the car, waving my hands frantically for her to come away from the church building. For all I knew, Desiree and her friend were waiting inside the door for Tia.

She came down the steps toward my car with a confused frown on her face. “What's going on, Ross?”

“Get in.” I opened the passenger door for her.

“What?” She didn't move.

“I know you're supposed to meet the bishop, but he asked me to come and get you.”

“What's going on?” she asked, looking nervous. “Bishop Wilson told me to meet him here.”

“Look, I can't tell you all the details right now, but there's a lot going on. It's not safe for you to be around the church. Just please get in the car.”

Her eyes opened wide with fear and she climbed into the car without further protest.

When I got into the driver's seat, she put a hand on my arm to stop me from turning on the car. “Ross, please. You're really scaring me—and God knows my nerves are already shot. Please just tell me what's going on. The bishop said he was going to take care of things after my attack. Did something happen to him?”

I took my hands off the steering wheel and turned to face her. “The bishop's okay,” I said, telling her a half truth. “We don't really know how it's all connected, but the woman who attacked you is involved with Desiree Jones.”

“Desiree Jones? The woman who took my job?”

I nodded. “It looks like the one who attacked you is her girlfriend.”

“Ross,” she said, her voice full of dread. “Desiree is here. I saw her drive around the back of the church a little while ago, and I think there was someone in the passenger seat.”

“Are you sure it was her?” I asked.

“Pretty sure. I mean, I never met her, but I've seen her picture on the church website.”

I couldn't believe they were out in public after what happened at Jackson's office. Those were some bold bitches. “Did she see you?” I asked, even more grateful that I'd stopped Tia from going in the building.

“No. I don't think so.”

“Okay, that's good.” I turned on the car. “I'm going to drive around back to see if her car is still there. Getting these two might be the bishop's only chance,” I said.

She whipped her head in my direction. “What do you mean, his only chance? I thought you said the bishop was okay.”

I wished I could take back my words. She'd already been through so much, being attacked for God knows what reason. I didn't want her to be unnecessarily scared, but now that I'd slipped, there was no way to avoid telling her the rest.

“Okay, he's going to be fine, but right now he's in a bit of a jam.”

“What kind of jam?” she pressed.

I sighed. “Some of the details are still fuzzy, but here's what I know so far: Those two women killed a man this morning, but the bishop showed up at the scene, and they arrested him for the crime. Bottom line is, unless we can prove that they did it, Bishop might be going to jail for a long time.”

Tia's eyes were wet with tears. “He never would have been anywhere near them if he hadn't been protecting me.”

I shook my head. “No, Tia. Don't blame yourself for this.”

A blue Toyota Camry passed by us, going very fast. Tia yelled, “That's her! That's the car I saw going in the back!”

Without thinking, I put my car in drive and pulled away from the curb.

“Don't let them get away!” Tia shouted.

I followed them at a safe distance for about fifteen minutes. If they noticed me following them, they didn't react. Desiree's driving was steady and just under the speed limit the whole time. I imagine the last thing you would want to do after you've murdered someone is get caught because you're pulled over for a stupid traffic violation.

They finally backed the car into an alley in a neighborhood that I found questionable even in the light of day. There was no doubt in my mind that they were up to something, and I was determined to find out what it was.

I cruised slowly past the entrance to the alley. They were still sitting in the car, and fortunately they weren't looking toward the street as I passed by. The way Desiree was waving her arms around, it looked like they were in a heated discussion. Maybe the pressure of their crimes was getting to the two lovebirds, I thought.

A little further down the street, I parked the car. Tia reached for the door handle, but I grabbed her arm before she could jump out. “What is wrong with you? Where do you think you're going?” I said.

“I'm going to see what they're up to.”

“Tia, you need to stay put. Those women are dangerous.”

“You have no idea what I'm capable of when the going gets tough, Ross.” I sensed there was a deeper meaning behind her words, but I still wasn't letting her go anywhere near these two killers.

“You might have nerves of steel, Tia, but you need to stay in the car. The bishop, Aaron, and a whole lot of other folks at the church would fry my ass if I let anything happen to you. So, do me a favor and keep your ass in this car,” I said sternly.

She rolled her eyes, but agreed nonetheless. “Fine. I'll wait here. But if you take too long, I'm coming after you.”

I got out of my car hoping that Tia would keep her word and stay put. It was already bad enough that I was running around playing detective; I didn't need to start playing Superman too.

I headed down the sidewalk, stopping at the corner of the building to peek around into the alley. The car was still parked there, but both doors were open and neither woman was inside. The trunk in the back of the car was open. I stood with my back pressed against the building, trying to decide what my next move would be. It's not like I'd ever been in a situation like this before, and my nerves were threatening to paralyze me.

The sound of a car door slamming shut startled me, and I peeked my head around the corner again.

Desiree ran to open a door at the side of the building. Her back was facing me as she held the door open for her girlfriend, whispering, “Hurry up!”

“Shut up. He's heavy, you know.” With the trunk door still raised, I couldn't see what the girlfriend was doing, but she seemed to be struggling to pull something out of the car. There was a thud, and then I saw another set of feet near the back of the car. The girlfriend slammed the trunk shut, and what I saw nearly knocked the wind out of me. Aaron was standing there, blindfolded and gagged, with his arms tied behind his back. She was pressing a gun against his head, ordering, “Move.”

I couldn't get back to the car fast enough.

“You're lucky you got back here. I was just about—”

“Give me my phone!” I yelled.

She handed it to me, asking in a panicked voice, “What the hell is going on?”

“They have Aaron,” I answered as I dialed Keisha Anderson's number.

Having spent some time in jail, I'd been in a few scary situations in my life, but this damn sure qualified as the scariest. I'd just woken up from a blow to the temple that had my head pounding. If that wasn't bad enough, I couldn't see anything. I felt someone pulling me up, but my hands were tied behind my back and there was duct tape covering my mouth, so I couldn't fight back and I couldn't yell.

I felt a gun against my head as I was forced inside some type of building. Someone pushed me into a chair, and then I heard two female voices. They were talking too quietly for me to make out what was being said, but there was definitely tension in the air.

What the hell was going on? In my confused state, I struggled to understand. My mind wandered to the movie
Misery
, where a crazy fan holds her favorite author prisoner. Could this be a couple of deranged gospel music fans?

Suddenly, the blindfold was ripped off my face. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I was shocked to see the church secretary standing before me. That's when I remembered that she was the last person I had seen at the church before the woman with the gun…It still didn't make sense to me. She ripped the duct tape off of my mouth.

“Desiree?” I said, hoping she could help me figure this out.

“Hello, Aaron.” The smile on her face confused me.

“What am I doing here?” I asked, still feeling groggy. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Welcome to the beginning of the end.” She started laughing, and the fog in my brain cleared enough for me to finally understand that she was not here as a friend.

Without warning, another woman lunged at me, punching me in the stomach. I keeled over, feeling like I might throw up. She was a lot stronger than she looked.

“Remember me?” she cackled, propping me up in the chair to hit me again.

I did remember her. She was the one from the church parking lot—the one with the gun.

She punched me a third time. With each blow, I heard Desiree exclaim, “Oooh! I know that hurt!”

Though my body was throbbing, my mind was clearer now, and I felt my anger rising. “You crazy bitch, what the hell is this all about?”

“What the fuck did you call her?” The other woman rained her fists down on me with so much force that it felt like she might have broken a rib.

“Arrrrgggggggh!” I groaned. With my hands tied, I was completely powerless. I had to find a way to stop this. “Desiree, why are you doing this?” I asked, appealing to the woman who had seemed so sweet every time I saw her in the bishop's office. Her response was filled with so much venom it felt like she was a completely different person.

“Two words, motherfucker: Bobby Taylor.”

“I don't know Bobby Taylor,” I said. In the last few years, especially with traveling for shows, I'd met thousands of people, most of whose names I didn't remember.

“Lynn, you hear that?” she said in an icy tone.

So, the heavy-handed one was named Lynn, I now knew.

“He doesn't remember. Ain't that some shit!” Lynn clocked me in the head.

“Fuck!” I screamed out.

“Oh, is poor Aaron hurt?” Desiree mimicked, making baby noises. No doubt about it, this bitch was crazy. I feared for my life.

I started pleading, “Look, I'm sorry. I just don't remember anyone named Bobby Taylor. Whatever I did to him, let's just call him up and I'll apologize.”

This really set Desiree off. Now she was the one swinging her fists, landing blows all over my head and torso. “You bastard! Bobby Taylor was my father, and you killed him, you evil motherfucker! You ruined my life, and now I'm going to ruin yours!”

Time seemed to stop for a second as the reality hit me. Ten years ago, I'd had a car accident. Young and dumb and foolish, I'd been drinking and driving. The driver of the other car was Robert Taylor Jr. He'd also been driving drunk, but because he died in the collision, I was found guilty of vehicular man­­sl
aughter
and sentenced to five years in prison. I did my time, and I still lived with guilt, but never once had I thought about the family he left behind—the other lives that might have been destroyed by my poor choices.

“Desiree, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.”

She shook her head wildly, wiping away tears. “It's too late for sorry. Sorry won't bring him back. He was my whole life. He was the only one who understood me, and you have to pay for taking him from me.”

“Please, tell me what I can do to make this right,” I begged.

Lynn stepped in front of Desiree. “Why are you even listening to this motherfucker?” she asked. “Why don't you just let me off him now? Shoot, after killing his boy Pippie and then your slick-ass uncle this morning, I'm kind of itching to do another one.”

Pain shot through my heart. These two had killed Pippie because of something I did ten years ago. His blood was on my hands.

Desiree shook her head. “No, this one is mine. I want to be the one to send this piece of shit to hell for what he did to me. Give me the gun.”

Lynn reached into her waistband and pulled out the weapon. She was about to hand it to Desiree when we heard a loud voice over a bullhorn.

“You, in the warehouse, my name is Lieutenant Williams with the New York City Police Department. Come out with your hands up!”