“We'll see about that,” Marcus said in a portentous tone of voice, as if he knew something that everyone else didn't.
“I wouldn't count on it. The chief would never allow it,” Wade warned his partner. “I'm going to the car to get my guitar. Liz suggested I bring it with us. She said something about her and Monet wanting us to play for them.”
Aron turned to Marcus and asked with surprise, “What instrument do you play?”
“An alto saxophone,” Marcus replied distractedly. His mind was consumed with thoughts of Mad Dog being someone from his past who might have held a grudge against him.
“Actually, he and Wade make pretty good music together,” Duane told his father.
Inside the house, Monet, Liz, and Elise were still oohing and aahing over the baby gifts. The choir members had given Monet a variety of gifts; a car seat, stroller, high chair, and mountains of pink clothing.
Elise excused herself, saying she was going to check on Duane. Monet peered at Liz as she was hanging a pink and white flowered short set in the closet.
Then Liz asked, “Have you heard from Derek? I thought he might join us today.”
“He called a few days after putting his foot in his mouth and apologized,” Monet replied, as she took the beautiful christening outfit out of a box. She handed it to Liz to hang up in the closet.
“Well, at least he said he was sorry.” Liz picked up another box and put a pair of white satin booties in the dresser drawer.
“I have to admit that what he said to me sat the wrong way with me. At first I was mad, then sad because Derek really hurt my feelings. Then I had to pray over the situation. I didn't understand how he could be so insensitive about my feelings and make those statements about Faith's paternity in front of our father. My father hasn't said anything about the state of siege at my house, but I'm sure he's put two and two together by now.” Monet looked over at Liz, who was putting a small bag of
Huggies
on the changing table. “Liz, what do you think of my dad? I want your honest opinion.”
There wasn't another chair in the room for Liz to sit on, so she leaned against the side of the baby bed. “You know I'm going to keep it real. I think he's really trying to make amends. I'm sure his mortality has come into play, and my gut feeling tells me he's trying to do the right thing. It couldn't have been easy for him to ask if you or your brothers would take him in, but he did what he had to do.”
“Do you think he came into our lives because that's what he wants, or because Momma asked him to?” The answer to that question had preoccupied Monet's mind for many days.
“I think a little bit of both. I don't sense any deception on his part. You're the person with the gift. What does your heart say to you?” Liz turned the question back on her friend.
“I think he's honest in his motives, but I hear Marcus saying I feel that way because that's what I want to believe.” Monet crinkled her nose.
“Then go with the flow, and be glad you have a parent in your life now with the baby coming. We know that God provides when we need it, and sister, it's your time.”
“I believe you're right,” Monet said thoughtfully as she tried to pick a box off the floor at the same time that Faith decided it was playtime. She rubbed her abdomen while the baby appeared to perform somersaults around her midsection.
“Let me get that for you,” Liz offered. She walked over and handed Monet a couple more boxes.
Duane and Elise walked into the room. He walked over to his sister and gently tugged at a lock of her hair “Dinner was great as always. Elise and I are going downtown to Millennium Park for a concert, so we'll see you next time. I'll call you this week.”
“Thanks for joining us, Elise. It was nice seeing you again; don't be a stranger. You don't have to wait for Duane to bring you over for a visit.” Monet beamed a smile at the young woman.
“Thanks, Monet,” Elise gushed. “The food was great like the company, and I love what you've done with the nursery. It's beautiful, just like your baby is going to be.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I'm not going to attempt to get up because it would take too long. We enjoyed your company too.”
Duane and Elise departed and headed to downtown Chicago.
“She seems like a nice woman. Do you think your brother is finally going to settle down?” Liz asked as she opened another box and held up yellow pajamas.
“I don't know . . . I like her. All can say is that Duane has been with her longer than he has with any other woman in a long time. The twins are almost thirty-seven years old, and I keep telling them that it's time for them to settle down. Although I don't think Derek ever will.”
“Then one out of two ain't bad,” Liz quipped while Monet took a Black Ballerina lamp out of another box.
“Oh, isn't that beautiful?” Monet cooed enthusiastically. “I have to admit, the choir members have good taste. Sometimes we never know where our blessings are going to come from.”
“You are so right.” Liz nodded her head. “Let's finish a couple more boxes and head back downstairs. Maybe the guys will do us the honor of serenading us with some music.”
“That would be nice,” Monet said as Liz handed her three more boxes. “When Marcus returned home after his hotel stay, he began playing the saxophone even more than he usually does. And some nights the songs are so poignant they bring tears to my eyes. Later, I came to realize that's his way of coping with our situation.”
“That's a healthy way to channel his aggression, and it's better than the alternative. Thank God he isn't drinking or, God forbid, using drugs.”
“You're right. Even in the midst of this estrangement from Marcus, God is still blessing me. And that's what keeps me sane throughout this whole predicament, along with you being my prayer partner.”
“Thank you,” Liz said as she set a bottle of baby oil on top of the changing table and put a diaper genie on the floor next to the table. “Now hand me those outfits, and then we can go back downstairs and hopefully listen to some nice jazzy music.”
Liz left boxes for Monet to open the following day. They returned to the backyard, where they found Marcus and Wade warming up their instruments. Aron was shooing a mosquito away from his bare arms.
“Give me a few minutes, and then let the music begin,” Liz said. “I'm going to grab some fruit for me and Monet. Does anyone else want anything?”
Marcus and Wayne said they didn't, while Aron said he'd like some fruit. When Liz returned, she handed Monet a bowl of strawberries and cream sprinkled with sugar on the top. She had slices of watermelon for herself and Aron.
After she sat down, she looked first at her husband, and then at Marcus. “What are you waiting for? Let the music begin,” she said.
Monet rested the top of her arms on her stomach as Wade played the opening notes of “Never Can Say Good-bye” by The Jackson Five, and Marcus blew melodic notes as he joined Wade. As she watched her husband play his saxophone, Monet's eyes filled with tears. She, Liz, and Aron were treated to a beautiful mixture of jazz and R&B songs.
Half an hour later, sweat trickled down the sides of Marcus's face. With each heartrending note he played, Monet could feel the toll the past months had taken on her husband. Love for her husband seized and held onto Monet's heart, and she could feel Marcus's love for her in each note that he played. She sent him what she called a mental message that said I love you.
I think that I have loved you from the first moment you asked me if you could carry my books between classes back in high school. We have been through good times and not so good ones, and through it all, God has seen us through both. I know you're hurting, and there's something in you that just won't let you let go and let God handle it. But that's okay, because God knows you're hurting. Just hold on a little while longer, my love, and you will see the awesome power of God as He manifests Himself in our child. Hold on, Marcus, God loves you, and so do I.
Chapter 28
The gestation period for Monet's pregnancy had almost reached its culmination. She would reach forty weeks the following week. When she had gone to her appointment last week, Dr. Armstrong informed her that her wait was almost over, and that it wouldn't be long. The baby was making its descent into her womb to prepare for labor.
Liz and Monet had enjoyed attending Lamaze classes, and Liz made an extra effort to bolster her friend's spirits. She sensed Monet had the blues sometimes because Marcus wouldn't share the pregnancy experience with her.
The nursing department at St. Bernard's Hospital hosted a shower for Monet, and she had received so many items that she jokingly told her father they might have to build a wing onto the nursery.
Monet felt blissful and blessed. She and Aron talked more each day. They had formed a loving bond and gotten to know each other better. She saw glimpses of the man her mother had fallen in love with, and she knew that he, too, was enjoying their time together. Monet finally understood what Liz meant when she said she was a daddy's girl when she was growing up, and still was.
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Marcus had gone to his superiors with the tip that Aron had provided, and surprisingly, it had panned out after a DNA sample was acquired from the felon. Mad Dog had no choice but to confess to the crime. Another twenty years was tacked onto the sentence he was currently serving.
As Wade had predicted, the chief denied Marcus's request to go with Smitty when he questioned Mad Dog, a.k.a., Jermaine Richardson. Only after a confession was obtained from Mad Dog did Chief Davis allow Marcus to go talk to the prisoner, but he set a stipulation that Wade go with him to the prison.
Wade complied with the edict, and the two men found themselves cooling their heels in a different cellblock. Just like before, two guards escorted the prisoner into the room and removed the cuffs from his hands, and then went to stand near the door. Mad Dog plopped down into his seat and stared sullenly at Marcus. Mad Dog's head was shaven. He seemed to leer at Marcus and Wade with thick lips. One side of his face was brown and pink as Aron had indicated. Marcus glared fiercely at the man sitting in front of him. Mad Dog could feel the aura of animosity that seemed to spring from Marcus, and it amused him.
He sneered at Marcus and asked, “Hey, dude, you got a square?”
Marcus shook his head, indicating that he didn't. His tongue snaked out of his mouth as he wet his lips. Mad Dog looked vaguely familiar to him. Marcus's voice was low and overflowed with hostility, as he asked Mad Dog in a flat tone of voice, “Why did you do it? Why my wife?”
“It wasn't nothing personal, brother. I needed money, and your wife was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Simple as that.” Mad Dog looked away from Marcus with a bored look on his face.
“If it were as simple as that, then you could've just taken her purse. She probably would have given it to you. Why did you have to put your hands on her, and then rape her?” Marcus had to quell his inner demons to remain in control.
“Well, maybe I'll tell you if you can give me a square.” Mad Dog leaned back in the chair. “What about you, partner number two, you got a square?” he asked Wade.
Wade pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and handed one to Mad Dog. Then he struck a match and lit it for him. Being a policeman and having visited prisons numerous times, Wade had enough foresight to bring a pack with him.
“That's more like it. Now, what did you say, partner number one?” Mad Dog wore a smirk on his face as he turned his attention back to Marcus.
“You heard what I said, and I'm not going to repeat myself,” Marcus replied testily.
Mad Dog blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling. “Let's see, you asked me why I didn't just take her purse. I was high, and I ain't had none in awhile. Your lady was there, and hey, she looked good.” He shrugged his shoulders.
Marcus shook his head and glared at the man sitting in front of him like he was pure evil. He cracked his knuckles to do something with his hands so that he wouldn't beat the fool in front of him to a pulp.
“Are you so hard up that you can't find someone on your own, instead of resorting to brutalizing women to suppress your urges?” Marcus asked the prisoner harshly.
“I can do whatever I want to when I choose to.” Mad Dog flicked his ashes on the floor beside his chair.
“I think you mean that in the past tense because now you can't do a darn thing except what the guards allow you to do,” Marcus said. It took all of his willpower not to reach across the table and grab Mad Dog by the neck and beat him senseless.
“Whatever,” Mad Dog said. He inhaled the cigarette, and then exhaled a puff of smoke. “Look, man, I done told you what you wanted to know. Your wife was just there, and I took her. Yeah, I may have roughed her up a bit. That's the way I roll; I like it rough. I'm a real man.” He flexed his left arm mockingly at Marcus.
“You nearly broke her jaw, and her shoulder was wretched out of its socket. You beat her face so badly that she was lucky she didn't need plastic surgery when you were done, and all you can say is that you like it rough,” Marcus growled. The vein in his forehead throbbed uncontrollably.
Mad Dog raised his hand. “Look here, man, you asked to see me, I didn't ask you to come here. I answered your questions. It ain't my fault you don't like what I said.” He smirked.
One of the guards snarled sternly, “Keep your hands on the table and in sight.”
“I guess I don't know my own strength,” Mad Dog said sarcastically. He dropped the cigarette on the floor, stomped it out and asked Wade for another one. Wade complied with his request.
“I guess I was hoping to hear you say that you were sorry, but I guess there isn't a shred of decency in your body,” Marcus spat.
“Marcus, why don't we go? You're not going to get what you came here for.” Wade made a move to stand up, and when he did, Mad Dog jumped out of his seat, pulled a shank from the sleeve of his jumpsuit and lunged toward Marcus.
Marcus froze, and Wade pushed his partner out of Mad Dog's reach. The guards rushed the table. One of the guards wrestled the weapon away from Mad Dog, while the other pointed the rifle he held in his hand at their prisoner's head. The guard who gained possession of the shank, tossed it to the other guard, and then cuffed Mad Dog and pulled him roughly toward the door. The second guard apologized and said they'd come back to the room once they returned Mad Dog to his cell.
“I'm not through with you yet, partner number one. Don't you remember me? You tried to put me away ten years ago, and the charges didn't stick. I walked. Payback is a dog, a mad dog, ain't it?” He laughed evilly as the guards quickly escorted him through the door and out the room.
Marcus sat down hard in the chair and covered his face.
Wade walked over to him, leaned down, and said worriedly, “Are you all right?”
Marcus rubbed his face and said, “I think so. I think I saw my life flash before me when I saw that shank.”
“I hear you, brother. I can't believe he had the audacity to try and harm you in front of me and the guards,” Wade said as he stroked his chin.
“He's a psycho, just like we thought. I don't remember ever arresting him though. I went through my cases and so did Smitty, and the name Jermaine Richardson never surfaced as someone we needed to investigate,” Marcus said.
“Ten years is a long time, maybe he used an alias back then. We've investigated so many cases over the years that we can't remember every single one of the perpetrators' names,” Wade reminded Marcus.
“I guess you're right, but when I heard his birth name, it should have come back to me,” Marcus remarked, mentally rebuking himself.
“You've had a lot on your mind. And I guess Smitty didn't see anything that threw up a red flag at him.” Wade tried to console his friend.
“Thanks for having my back, Wade. I owe you,” Marcus said, shuddering. He was still shaken at how close he had come to being injured or killed, depending on Mad Dog's aim.
“Hey, it's no big deal. You would have done the same for me,” Wade replied, though his hands shook slightly.
The shorter guard returned to the room and informed Marcus, “Warden Jones wants to see you, and we need to take an incident report.”
Marcus tried to stand up, but his legs were still shaky. “I thought I would have to. Where would this world be without red tape?” He looked upward.
The men followed the guard to his office, and within thirty minutes had completed the report and were on their way to the warden's office. Levi commiserated with Marcus before he led them into the warden's office.
“Detectives, I hear we had some excitement in the cellblock. I'm glad to see you're both okay. I take it you already filled out the incident report. Detective Caldwell, would you like to press charges against Jermaine? What he did was attempted assault,” Warden Jones said.
“I'd prefer to just let it go,” Marcus responded. “I think I've spent enough time here, and hopefully won't have to come back here for a while, even if I'm investigating a case. Plus, I don't want the prison to have a black mark on your watch.”
“I hear you, and thank you. We'll handle the incident in our own way.” Warden Jones sounded grateful. He held out his hand.
Marcus and Wade stood up, reached across the desk, thrust their hands out at the warden and took their leave. They entered their vehicle and proceeded to Interstate 55. Wade decided to drive and he kept glancing over at Marcus, who had become quiet.
“You sure you're all right?” Wade queried his partner.
“I am. I just wasn't expecting him to try to attack me. I swear I could see every mistake I've made in my life somersaulting before me, and man, it wasn't nothing good.” Marcus felt tense. He adjusted the rearview mirror for lack of anything else to do.
“I guess you're referring to Monet?” Wade asked.
“That's part of it. I know I haven't been the best husband in the world to her over the past months, but I haven't deserted her. Under the circumstances, I've continued to support her as well as any man could be expected to. And now I learn this guy got revenge against me by hurting Monet.” Marcus sighed half-heartedly. “The bad news just seems to keep coming.”
“I know you feel that you've done the best you could do. But how would you feel, buddy, if you had been killed just now and never saw Monet's face again? And what if that baby she's carrying is yours? What would she be able to tell the baby about her father?”
“You and I both know the baby isn't mine. And when I think of Monet carrying that fool's baby, I feel even more strongly that she should've aborted the baby like I wanted her to,” Marcus replied unyieldingly.
“You've never, not even once, allowed yourself to think that it could be your baby? Every doctor that you and Monet have seen over the years has told you that there is no medical reason that stopped her from conceiving. That would sure raise some doubt in my mind.” Wade jogged Marcus's memory.
“No, that thought has never entered my mind. If she had gotten pregnant before the rape, or even two months afterward, then I would be the happiest man in the world. Dr. Armstrong pinpointed Monet's due date back to the rape. Now I'm just convinced that Monet is going to have trouble on her hands. What if that child is like Mad Dog?”
“Don't go there,” Wade said. “We don't know Mad Dog's circumstances. For all we know, he could have come from a good family and drugs messed him up. We know firsthand the horrors that crack has perpetrated on our community. What we saw in there was the outcome of excessive drug use.”
“I agree with you to a certain point. We don't know his story, but it doesn't matter; look at him now. I'll be glad when Monet has the baby, although I already know the outcome.” Marcus nodded his head sorrowfully.
“You think you know the outcome, but only God knows that, and He surprises us at times when we least expect it.” Wade nodded his head wisely.
“You're always throwing Christian nuggets at me, Wade. But what would you do if Liz had been raped and was pregnant by her rapist? You've told me what I should do, but what would you do?”
“I don't think you're going to like my answer. But since you asked, I would accept the child and raise it as my own, because half of my Lizzie's DNA would be a part of that child. I would pray for strength to love the child as I have my own. Make no mistake, Marcus, everything happens for a reason. God never said this life would be easy, but knowing that I have my Father's strength to lean on and Lizzie's, I think I would be fine raising another man's child,” he said honestly.
“That's easy for you to say because you're not in my predicament.”
“You're right, I could say anything. But I think I'm a little further in my walk with God than you are. We've known each other for over twenty years, so if I say something, I mean it. I don't have to score brownie points with you, nor am I trying to influence your thinking. You've been adamant about your position from day one. You asked my opinion, and I gave it to you.”