Baltimore Chronicles (7 page)

Dana screwed up her face and yanked the door open. She thought maybe Danielle had been picked up for something.

“Ms. Rodriguez?” the officer asked.

“No. My last name is Thomas. My daughter's last name is Rodriguez,” Dana said nervously. A sick feeling washed over her.

“Can we come in, ma'am?” one of the officers asked.

Dana moved aside, and the officers stepped into her home.

“Ma'am, we are sorry to tell you that your daughter Danielle Rodriguez has been killed.”

Dana's ears started ringing, and she couldn't move. A scream was welling up inside of her, ready to erupt. She opened her mouth, and the sound that escaped was almost like that of a pig at slaughter. She fell to her knees and screamed, “Nooooo!” at the top of her lungs.

The officers tried to help her up, but Dana would not move from that spot. She was wracked with sobs, and her body trembled.

After a few minutes on her knees wailing uncontrollably, she allowed the officers to help her up.

“What happened?” she yelled. “Why my child?”

“Ma'am, your daughter was killed fleeing the scene of a bank robbery. She was with a group of men that tried to rob the bank,” one of the officers informed Dana.

“You must be mistaken! My daughter wouldn't do something like that! She is a good girl! Danielle knows better! I don't believe you!” Dana belted out, flailing her arms at the officers.

“Ms. Thomas, I'm afraid it was your daughter.” The officer shoved a picture of Danielle's bloodied body toward Dana.

Dana placed her hand over her mouth. It was Danielle in the picture. “Would you please call her sister? She is a cop too,” she managed to say.

The officers looked shocked, like they thought she was lying.

“Her card…it's on the counter. Please call. I can't… I just can't,” she said, breaking down with tears all over again.

 

Maria Rodriguez was in her bed when her cell phone began vibrating. She looked at the screen and saw a strange phone number. “Hello?” she answered cautiously.

“Yes, this is Officer Rodriguez,” she replied to the strange caller. Rodriguez sat up in the bed. “About my sister? What about her? Has something happened?” she asked, a pang of nervousness punching through her gut.

After the caller instructed her to come down to the hospital, she jumped out of the bed and began throwing on any piece of clothing she could find. She instinctively grabbed her gun and badge and busted out the front door. She raced her car through the streets of Baltimore, running all red lights on the way as her heart beat out of her chest.
Please let this girl be okay,
she thought.

When she arrived at the county hospital, she flew down the hallways, almost knocking people down several times. She finally noticed a gathering of cops and rushed over to where they stood.

“Hi, I'm Officer Rodriguez. Someone called me about my sister?” she said, trying to catch her breath.

Rodriguez didn't recognize any of the Baltimore County officers there. As a state trooper, she sometimes worked with the local county cops, but not often enough to know them on a first-name basis or by sight.

“Officer Rodriguez, I am Lieutenant Brady, Baltimore County.” A tall, white-haired man extended his hand for a shake.

“What is going on with my Danielle?” Rodriguez asked, ignoring the lieutenant's hand. She was feeling worse about this whole scene by the second.

“I'm sorry, Officer Rodriguez,” the lieutenant said in a low tone, trying to soften the blow. “Your sister is gone.”

Rodriguez thought she hadn't heard correctly, so she asked the lieutenant to repeat himself. When he did, she hollered, “No!”

Rodriguez began banging the wall next to her so hard, her hand felt as if it would break. Even with the pain, she couldn't stop punching. She wanted to rip somebody's head off. She had warned Danielle, had told her about that crew. She had promised herself since she was a child that she wouldn't shed tears. This was different, uncontrollable. She couldn't keep them from falling.

“How did this happen?” she croaked out, tears burning at the back of her eyes.

“Our initial reports say she was shot by her own people while they ran from the scene of an attempted bank robbery,” the lieutenant explained.

Rodriguez immediately knew who was responsible. She could only wonder if they'd found out Danielle was her sister and took it out on her.

“I want the autopsy, toxicology, and DNA reports back as soon as possible,” Rodriguez told the lieutenant. “I want to be involved and informed about all the developments in this case. I am her sister.”

The lieutenant didn't argue.

Rodriguez knew right away who she would make pay for Danielle's death. The Dirty Money Crew had taken away her only sibling. She stormed out of the building. She needed time to think and regroup.

Once outside, she immediately began plotting the downfall of the entire Dirty Money Crew, including Scar Johnson.

 

Rodriguez and Dana sat in the front row together at the funeral, hand in hand, hoping they could make it through such a tragic day. As Rodriguez stared at Danielle's stiff corpse, she found new fervor to take Scar down.

Rodriguez hadn't slept in a week since finding out about Danielle's death. Wracked with guilt, she could hardly stand to look at herself in a mirror. She had always thought of herself as a stand-up cop, but now she doubted herself as a cop, a sister, a daughter, and as a person in general. She realized she hadn't been strong enough to stand up to Scar and say no when he'd approached her the first time. Blinded by the money, and fearing for her own safety, she took part in Scar's web of murder, lies, and deceit. Well, things had changed. She wasn't afraid anymore. She was pissed, and didn't care if Scar exposed her and the deal they had cut. She didn't care if she lost her job. She just wanted to avenge her dear sister's death by getting Scar and his little murderous crew off the streets.

What devastated her most was when the medical examiner told her that Danielle was pregnant. Not only did Rodriguez lose her sister, but she also lost her chance to be an auntie. She didn't even bother to tell their mother about that because her mother wanted to be a grandmother more than anything and wouldn't have been able to handle it.

Rodriguez needed some sort of redemption. Suddenly, it was now her mission in life to help get young kids off the streets and to show that life under Scar's direction wasn't the American dream but really a nightmare.

Derek stared at Tiphani in shock and awe. He was so surprised she had come to visit him, he could hardly keep his mouth closed. She looked extra beautiful to him now. Derek missed seeing her beautiful face with its exotic features. He still thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her perfume filled his nostrils and made his dick hard.

Derek sat frozen, holding out hope that his wife had come to tell him she wanted him back. He didn't even care whether or not she ever apologized; he just wanted his life back. And he knew Tiphani was talented enough a lawyer to help him get out of jail.

“Well, I know this is awkward,” Tiphani started. She could barely hold eye contact with Derek, who looked horrible in the orange prison jumpsuit. His skin was ashy and drawn up, and he looked like he had lost fifty pounds. His full beard swallowed up his face, and she could see the signs of stress in his red, hopeless eyes. She did notice that his eyes lit up when he saw her, which didn't flatter her at all, but made her feel sorry for him for a brief moment.

“Thanks for coming to see me. I don't get many visitors, unless my attorney decides to come,” Derek said, half-jokingly, trying to lighten the tension between them.

There was an awkward silence. The air in the room felt much the same way the courtroom did the day Derek was convicted, thick and almost suffocating.

“How are my little ones? Are you all right? Do you know who did the kidnapping? Did they hurt you at all?” Derek rattled off, trying to fill the awkward silence.

Tiphani ignored every one of his questions. “I came for a specific reason. This,” she said, sliding a set of newly drawn up divorce papers across the table toward him. She didn't have time for small talk, nor did she want to have any with her soon-to-be ex-husband. She wanted to get to the point and get out.

Derek was in shock when he looked down at the papers. Seeing them took his breath away and he stopped breathing for what felt like a few minutes. They'd had their fair share of ups and downs and even an ugly, drawn-out custody battle when he was a free man. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd always thought they might work things out.

He lifted his shackled hands and picked up the papers to examine them more closely. DIVORCE DECREE, it read. Derek felt like his heart split in two. If being in prison hadn't broken him, this did.

“Tiphani, I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I still love you. I need you. You and the kids are all I've got. Can we please work things out?” Derek gripped the papers in his hand so tightly, he was inadvertently crumpling them.

“Look, let's just get this all over with,” Tiphani replied, a smirk on her face. The more Derek begged, the weaker he looked to her, which turned her off all over again. Tiphani wasn't stupid. She knew her husband's manipulative ways well. She knew he just wanted somebody to stick by him and help him try to appeal his conviction.

Tiphani was still bitter. She couldn't forget the way Derek had treated her after the incident with Scar, calling her all types of whores in front of her colleagues in family court. She wasn't going to forgive him. They were done.

“Tiphani, why don't you think this over and reconsider? Think about the kids.” Derek felt tears welling up, but he refused to let her see him cry. He felt like he had been stripped of his dignity in enough ways already.

“Look, Derek, what don't you understand? We are done. Over. I don't want you anymore. I have moved on, so you should do the same. I am over you and all of this. I am just here to make it official and legal. Now sign the papers and do us both a favor.”

Derek hung his head in defeat. He could tell by her callous attitude that his wife had been corrupted by his brother. He knew it was a strong possibility that she and Scar were still together, maybe living like one big happy family with his kids, now that she was home safe. The thought of Tiphani and Scar together made Derek's insides boil. He still found it hard to believe that the woman that once loved him so much could now hate him so deeply.

Biting down into his jaw, he picked up the pen and began signing the divorce papers. As he wrote his name on the line, he thought more and more about his brother's betrayal. About Tiphani's betrayal too.

“This is what you and Scar had planned all along, isn't it? To destroy me over lust? Is dick that important to you? You know good and damn well where Scar is. You probably faked the whole fuckin' kidnapping too, you cold-hearted bitch!”

Derek's sadness had now turned to unbridled anger that he needed to let loose. If he wasn't shackled, he felt like he probably would've punched Tiphani until her face caved in. Because of the commotion he was causing, the COs began moving toward the table as his voice rose higher and higher.

“I hate you, bitch!” he screamed. “You know what goes around comes around! You and Scar will get yours! You think he is gonna love you like I did? He won't! You hear me? He won't! He is using you just like he used me! I'm his flesh and blood, and he betrayed me, so imagine you! You're just a piece of pussy to him! You are replaceable in Scar's world! You better think about what you're doing! Don't be stupid!”

The COs grabbed his arms and began dragging him out of the room.

Tiphani remained composed. She heard what Derek was saying but gave it no thought or credence. Scar loved her, and she knew it. Derek was just jealous.

She gathered up the signed divorce papers and watched as her husband made a total ass of himself. She felt relieved when she looked down at his signature. Cutting off all ties with him was what she needed to succeed.

Tiphani felt good inside. She finally had closure.

The Shadow was lying in bed thinking about the news that the Dirty Money Crew had lost a few bodies in a botched bank heist. Now was the perfect time to get on the inside. They were short of men and were going to need to fill the ranks. But how? was the question. You couldn't exactly just walk up to the front door and say, “I want to join.”

Many different scenarios were playing out in the Shadow's mind, but none seemed right. The Shadow had done such a good job of keeping a safe distance from Scar and his crew that there was no contact with any of them.

Taking down Scar's crew was an obsession that was turning maniacal. It was all the Shadow thought about, and now the time had come to take it to the next level and destroy Scar and the Dirty Money Crew. There was no more surveillance to be done, no more information to be gathered. Everything that could be known from the outside was known. Now, the information obtained had to be put to use on the inside.

Throughout his surveillance, the Shadow kept following Scar and his crew to a specific check cashing place. He thought the Dirty Money Crew was looking to take the place down. Some of the younger bucks tried forcing their way in through the front door but were quickly met with some retaliatory force and had to run because the cops had been called. After that incident, the Crew backed off the place, which seemed to be the Fort Knox of check cashing places. No one was going to get in. The Shadow figured robbing this place would be the way into the Dirty Money Crew.

It had been three weeks of watching this place all day, every day, from the front of the store to the back. They ran a tight ship, and robbing it seemed damn near impossible. The more the Shadow watched, the tighter the security seemed to appear. In fact, the Shadow saw no weakness. Almost all hope was lost, and the Shadow had decided he was just going to try and blast through the front door.

But then the Shadow observed something. While staking out the back alley, he saw the woman who worked at the check cashing walk out the back door of the nail salon two stores down. It had never occurred to him, but the workers at the check cashing place never left the building all day. There was no back door, and none of them ever left through the front, not even to get lunch.

When he saw the worker leave through the back door of the nail salon, it finally made sense. Somehow the nail salon and the check cashing place were connected. That's how they were getting in and out during the day. He just had to figure out how they were connected. That was the way in to the check cashing and the Dirty Money Crew. The Shadow was hyped and couldn't wait to take this place down.

Immediately the Shadow thought it was a good day to get a manicure. His nails were looking a little raggedy. After bullshitting with the ladies at the nail salon and gaining their trust, he went to the bathroom, which was conveniently located in the back of the salon. There wasn't much time to snoop around. A person could be in the bathroom for only so long before people started checking on them.

The Shadow started opening every door that was visible. Nothing but supply closets and tanning booths. He stood in front of the back door and tried to figure out how the two stores were connected. That's when the Shadow saw it. It wasn't easy to spot, but there was a door that looked exactly like the wall. No doorknob, just a little hole so a person could grab it and slide it. It was a pocket door that slid sideways into the wall.

Sensing he didn't have much time, the Shadow quickly opened it. He saw a downward set of stairs. He ran down the stairs and saw that they led to a long tunnel that ran underneath the store next to the salon.
I bet this leads right to the check cashing place
, he thought. Back up the stairs and into the bathroom he went.

Almost instantly one of the salon workers came knocking on the bathroom door to make sure everything was okay.

“Just have an upset stomach,” he said. “I'm finishing up in here.” The Shadow came out of the bathroom, said good-bye, and walked out of the salon. He was now one step closer to taking down the Dirty Money Crew.

 

Dressed in all black with a wool-knit face mask, the Shadow easily broke into the salon in the middle of the night and was now hiding in the tunnel, where he was going to wait until morning. The plan was to ambush the first person to come through the tunnel. Since it would be first thing in the morning, whoever came through the tunnel was definitely going to be surprised. Another advantage to doing the stickup first thing was, there wouldn't be as many people working, or waiting to cash checks. The Shadow was hoping to get in and out.

After waiting several hours, the Shadow couldn't stay awake. The long hours of following Scar, Sticks, and anyone involved with Dirty Money Crew nonstop were taking a toll. It was a much-needed rest.

Deep in sleep and dreaming of the good life, the Shadow was startled awake by the sliding open of the door to the tunnel. Immediately the hand went to the gun. He was ready to pounce.

Crouching down in the darkest part of the tunnel, he waited as the unsuspecting victim walked right into the trap. When they were in range, the Shadow jumped up and pointed the gun in the face of the middle-aged woman who worked at the check cashing place, catching her completely off guard.

“Hands up, bitch!” the Shadow growled. “You wit' anyone?”

The woman lost control of her bowels and shit herself right there on the spot. Speechless, she just stood there with her hands up, eyes bulging, staring at him.

“Speak!” he demanded.

“I—I—I'm alone,” she stuttered. “I come early to open up from the inside. Please don't hurt me,” she said through heaving sobs. “Please.”

“Do what I tell you, and no one will get hurt. Start walking.”

They made their way through the tunnel and up into the back room of the check cashing place, the woman crying and pleading for her life the whole time. The smell of shit was getting awful. Once inside, the Shadow directed the woman to open the safe.

“I can't. I only know the combination to the mini safe.”

“Who can open the main safe?”

“Big Mike. But he won't be in for at least thirty minutes.”

The Shadow had a decision to make. Wait for Big Mike, or just take what was available right now and hope it was enough to impress Sticks. “What's in the mini safe?”

“Not much. Just the cash we use for the drawer.”

“Open it!” The Shadow stuck the gun in her face for maximum effect.

The woman was so nervous, her hands were trembling, and she kept messing up the combination.

“Hurry the fuck up!” The Shadow hit the woman upside her head with the butt end of the gun, opening a gash in her head.

Blood soaking her hair and pouring down her neck, the woman yelped like a dog and started back to the lock. This time she was able to open the safe.

As soon as it was open, the Shadow reached in and took the contents out. There was three thousand dollars in cash and about forty thousand dollars in calling cards, which made the Shadow more than happy. He placed the calling cards and cash in a duffel bag. Then before leaving, he hog-tied the woman with electrical tape.

Being careful to avoid being seen by anyone coming into the nail salon, the Shadow snuck out the back door and walked to the waiting getaway car a block away.

 

Word about the robbery spread through the streets like wild fire. The Dirty Money Crew was trying desperately to find out who did it, but no one knew.

Sticks was starting to become paranoid. He thought one of his guys did it and wasn't telling him. If word got out that one of his guys was doing something behind his back, it would signal to the streets that he didn't have control, and the streets would lose respect for him, meaning, he would now have a bull's-eye on his back. He felt like his very life depended on finding out who robbed the check cashing place.

 

Timber was standing guard outside of the warehouse, passing the time by working on his rhymes. He had dreams of becoming a rapper and thought he could someday use his connections in the crime world to get him a record deal. He figured, a lot of other rappers had started out slingin' rocks and then went on to stardom, so why couldn't he do it?

As he spat his lyrics, a figure walked up to the gate of the warehouse. Timber stopped rapping. “Got a problem, mu'fucka?” He stared directly into the person's eyes, letting them know he wasn't afraid.

“I wanna come in.”

“Who the fuck is you?” Timber put his hand on the pistol in his waistband.

“I robbed the check cashing spot.”

Timber wasn't expecting to hear that. “Who says?”

Staying calm, the Shadow opened up the duffel bag and showed Timber the calling cards. “I want to fence these.”

Seeing the calling cards made Timber a believer. Not taking his eyes off the Shadow, he yelled out, “Ay, yo,” which was the code for the other workers to open the gate to the warehouse.

The warehouse, as usual, had about twenty guys in it, all smoking blunts. Some were counting money, others were bagging dope.

This was the first time the Shadow had ever been inside. He was taking mental notes, just in case this was the last time as well.

“Yo!” Timber barked at the top of his lungs, “this the nigga that took down the check cashing spot.”

Everyone in the warehouse instantly stopped what they were doing and turned to look at the person who did what none of them was able to do. All talking and movement stopped. The warehouse got so quiet, it was as if no one was even breathing.

Timber and the Shadow stood in the middle of the warehouse in full view of everyone, like animals in a zoo. The Shadow was just taking it all in, the exits, how many dudes were there, how many guns, everything. If this was gonna be his only time in the warehouse, he wanted to be sure to remember every last detail.

The silence was broken by footsteps at the back of the warehouse. It was Sticks coming from the back office. He slowly walked across the warehouse. The tension in the warehouse was thick. All of the crew just watched and waited to see what he would do.

Sticks knew that everyone was watching him, which made him walk slower. He was trying to show this new jack who was boss, that he didn't have to hurry for no one. “This nigga here?” Sticks said, a condescending smirk on his face.

The tension in the air dissipated as everyone in the warehouse laughed. With that one little remark, Sticks let everyone know that he wasn't afraid of this new jack, that he had the situation under control. All of the young bucks in the crew were reassured that they had put their trust in the right man, that no one would be gunning for Sticks anytime soon.

“So you the man that took down the check cash spot?” Sticks eyed the Shadow with caution.

“That's right, and I want to fence these calling cards.” The Shadow came back cool as ice. “You interested?”

“Come back to the office where we can discuss business in private,” Sticks countered.

The two men were playing a game with each other, both striving to gain the upper hand, neither man wanting to show weakness. They made their way through the warehouse and into the office, where Sticks sat at his desk and directed the new jack to sit across from him.

“First off, who the fuck are you? I ain't never seen you before.”

“Day. My name is Day.”

“Day. A'ight. Where you from, Day?” Sticks wasn't ready to trust this dude yet. He was thinking,
Some guy just shows up out of the blue, robs a spot, and no one knows who he is. That's not exactly someone you just welcome with open arms.

“I'm from Pittsburgh. Hill District. Was born here, so I decided to come back. Needed a change of scenery. You know how it is, kind of wore out my welcome. Five-O may be on the lookout for me up there.”

“I hear you. You know, we been wantin' to take that spot for a minute,” Sticks said, starting to feel more at ease with this dude.

“No, I didn't know. Great minds think alike,” Day joked.

Sticks smiled then got serious. “How you do something alone that my whole crew couldn't do together?”

“Careful planning and execution.” Day didn't want to give up too much information. He figured, the less he had to say, the better.

“Why that spot? And why come to us?” Sticks was being very cautious with Day. He was intrigued by this guy but still on guard.

“The spot was random. Everyone knows you the only game in town. You want to do business or not? I'm not a cop, so there's no need for all these questions. If you don't want these calling cards, someone else will. I just came to you because you the most professional niggas in B-more. I figured it'd be easier dealing with you than some of these wild-ass niggas out there.” Day opened his bag to show Sticks the calling cards and move the proceedings along. He didn't like all the questions and was hoping that his bluff about taking business elsewhere would work.

But Sticks liked getting his ego stroked. Being told he was the only game in town and the most professional made him feel like a king and took him off his guard a bit. When Day opened his bag, Sticks saw the calling cards and did some quick math in his head. The cards could easily be sold on the streets for a nice little profit.

Sticks, thinking about what to do, sat back and stared at Day. He knew he was going to take the cards, but was he going to actually buy them or take them by force? On the one hand, no one knew this dude, so no one would miss him, but on the other hand, Sticks kind of liked this cat. He was obviously smart, and he definitely had some balls, robbing a spot that none of his crew could. And Sticks admired that.

“A'ight, I'll take the cards?”

“For how much?” Day said, cutting Sticks off before he could finish his sentence.

“Whoa! Hold on, young buck. Relax. I'll take the cards, but let's talk real business first.” Sticks leaned forward in his chair. “You need to join the Dirty Money Crew.”