Authors: Polly Iyer
“I don’t deserve it,” the old man said, “but can you forgive me?”
Reece’s chin quivered, surprised that his father had such an effect on him. Could he forgive this man who had given him life and whose remorse now surfaced because he faced his end? “Yes, Dad,” he managed to say. “I forgive you.” He sat down on the chair next to the bed and lifted his father’s skeletal hand to his lips. “I forgive you.” The tears ran down his cheeks. He didn’t know if his father knew the police were after him for another murder, but he sensed time running out. “I need to go now.”
“I should have talked to you, son. I should have heard your side of the story. Not only what Carl told me.”
At first, Reece didn’t know what his father meant. It took a moment to process the words. “What…what did Carl tell you?”
“About how you confessed everything to him. About why you murdered that girl. That’s why I stayed away. I thought if I saw you, I’d give you away.”
Reece swore his heart stopped beating. He thought he’d experienced every possible emotion, but what passed through him at that moment relegated them all to nothing more than empty definitions. He struggled to bring the words to his lips. “Dad, hear this. I didn’t kill that woman. That’s the truth. I don’t know why Carl lied to you, but I never confessed anything to him because I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it, do you understand?”
“You didn’t do—”
“No. I spent fifteen years in prison for a crime I didn’t commit. And now someone’s trying to frame me again.”
Tears flooded his father’s eyes. “Why did Carl say that? Why?”
“I wish I could say I don’t know, but I’m beginning to think I do.”
“Oh, my God. What have I done?”
Leaning down, Reece whispered in his father’s ear. “You did what you believed was right. I hold no animosity.” The weight Reece carried in his chest all those years lifted, but a heavier burden descended. He had to let it go for now because he heard voices outside the door, coming closer. “I have to go, Dad. I don’t want anyone to see me.”
“Go, son.” His father grabbed his arm with strength Reece wouldn’t have believed the old man still possessed. “I love you,” he said. “I always have.”
Reece swallowed a breath. “Thank you for that. It means a lot.” It did too. And he could say those words now without suffering the hypocrisy. He leaned down and kissed his father’s forehead. “Do me a favor. If Carl visits, don’t tell him I’ve been here or that we’ve had this conversation, okay?”
“I won’t. God help me, I’ve been a stupid man, Reece, but I think I know what’s going on. I’m glad I won’t live to go through it again. You’ll make it. You’re a survivor. You’ll make it.” Thom Daughtry’s breathing labored, the beeps on one of the machines quickened, sending pulsating noises throughout the room.
“Gotta go, Dad.” He squeezed his father’s bony hand before he rose and headed for the exit. After one glance back, he slipped through the patio door and closed it behind him at the same time someone came into the room. He didn’t look back but ran to his car and drove out of the parking lot, his heart pounding like a jackhammer.
How could he have been so dense, or had he known all along and refused to accept it? His own brother. Not Mark or Steve or Jordan or any of the others at the bar or party that night twenty-one years ago. No, the brother who supposedly loved him. The brother who sat silently while guards led Reece out of the courtroom to begin another life.
“I
wish Reece would call,” Dana said. “Shouldn’t he have been here by now? I’d call him, but I don’t want to call attention to him if he’s somewhere people might notice.”
“Call him,” Frank said. “The phone’s on vibrator. That’s the way it’s programmed.”
Dana dialed Reece’s number, but he didn’t answer. She tried half a dozen more times, but he still didn’t respond. She left message after message. “Now I’m worried.”
“No sense worrying till you have to.”
The door buzzer rang.
“That’s probably him now.” Frank pointed to the intercom. “Go see, Lana.”
Lana pushed the button. “Yes.”
“Mokey.”
Dana looked at Frank. “Who’s Mokey?”
“My pick-up man.”
“Do I want to know this?”
“Probably not.”
Lana hit the buzzer and opened the door. A lanky, light-skinned African-American sauntered in, but before Lana could close the door, three men announcing themselves as police forced their way in behind him.
“You have no right to barge in here,” Lana said.
“Every right in the world,” one of the cops said, waving a warrant in her face. They moved into the living room and did the same in front of Frank’s recliner. The youngest cop made his way through the apartment.
Dana’s heart pumped so fast she thought it would lurch from her chest. So far, none of the cops paid her any attention. She wanted to slink away into the closet before they did. But hiding now wasn’t an option.
“How’ya doing, bagman?” said the oldest cop, a big man with red spidery veins feathering a large round Irish face. His voice oozed disdain.
“Bagman, my ass, Belue,” Frank said. “Can’t you see I’m a dying man? I ain’t got the strength for the rackets anymore.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll tell you what I see.” He nodded toward Mokey. “I see a skinny runner come to collect money from an even skinnier bagman. That’s what I see.”
“Why don’t you get off my ass? Your guys didn’t find anything here the other—”
Frank stopped in mid-sentence. His gaunt face turned red as he’d obviously said something he shouldn’t have. Dana knew what it was. The people who searched the house the other day weren’t looking for racket money. They were looking for Reece and her.
“You know what he’s talking about Sam?” Belue said to the other cop.
Sam’s gaze rested on Dana. A smile started slow and stretched into a big grin. “I do now. Must’ve been Homicide here the other day, ’cause you know who we have here, Belue? If you don’t, you haven’t been following the news. This here’s that woman from North Carolina run off with, what’s his name, Daughtry, wanted for double murder down there.”
“You don’t say. Well, what’d’ya know? You’re under arrest,” Belue said to Dana. “You’re all under arrest.”
“On what charge?” Dana asked.
“Yeah,” Frank said. “On what charge?”
Belue sputtered. “Aiding and abetting a suspected murderer and flight to avoid prosecution, for starters. How do you like them apples?”
Dana’s heart rate ratcheted up another notch. All her years with Robert flooded back. All the legal terminology. All Robert’s stories. “No one was prosecuting me, so that’s not an issue. And where’s the suspected murderer?” She looked around. “I don’t see anyone here wanted for murder. Frank, you’re not wanted for murder, are you? Lana?” She looked back at the cop, hoping the rumbling inside her didn’t show. “There’s no one here by the name of Daughtry for me to aid and abet. I’m visiting a friend. I had no idea anyone was looking for me.”
The young cop came out of the guest bedroom. “Then whose are these?” he said, holding Reece’s duffel bag in the air.
“Mine,” Mokey said without losing a beat. “I’ve been staying here occasionally. My old lady threw me out. Frank’s been putting me up.”
“And you’ve been sleeping with her?”
Belue
said.
“Yeah, you got a problem with that? Maybe you don’t like interracial relationships. Is that your problem? You a racist, Belue?”
“A little old for you, ain’t she, Mokey? Bet she’s as old as your mother.”
“Look at her.” Mokey gestured toward Dana. “Age is relative. Would you pass up a sweet
thang
like her?”
Dana felt herself blushing. This longshot was not going to work, but they were sure giving it a worthy try. She stood, threw out her chest, and faced Belue. “I find your remark not only offensive, officer, but sexist and age discriminatory. It’s quite the thing nowadays for older women to partner with younger men.”
“Yeah,” Mokey said. “She a cougar.”
“And where’s Reece Daughtry?”
“I have no idea,” Dana said. “Obviously, he’s not here, and you’d have a hard time proving he has been.”
Belue grabbed Dana’s arm and yanked her toward the door. “We’ll see about that, little lady.” He shot a glare at Frank. “I’ll be back to get you, old man.”
“Better make it fast, Irishman,” Frank said. “I won’t be here long.”
C
larence felt the phone pulse against his hip. He looked at the readout. No number. Must be Reece. He pulled off the road to take the call.
“It’s Vance. Your phone clean?”
“Yes.”
“I fucked up, Wright. Big time.”
Clarence heard a woman’s voice in the background trying to calm the old man as he explained what happened.
“They would have seen her eventually, Frank,” Clarence said. “Didn’t matter what you said or didn’t say. Nothing you could do about it.”
“Maybe, but maybe they wouldn’t have recognized her. I didn’t have to ring the fucking bell for them.”
Again, the voice in the background warned Frank he was getting too excited and to please take it easy. Frank answered away from the receiver. “How do you expect me to take it easy when I’ve just screwed up everything?”
“Not your fault,” Clarence said. “Most things like that happen by accident. Take it easy.”
“They came here to search for racket money. Of course they didn’t find any. But they saw Dana and hauled her out of here. But, man, you should have heard her. I never heard anything so sweet in my life.” He went into Dana’s defensive act. “She was brilliant. Defiant as hell.”
“Smart lady. I’ll call Jeraldine and tell her what happened and that the cops in Lynn have Dana. I’d warn Reece not to go back to your place, but he’s not answering his phone. They’ll be waiting for him.”
“We haven’t been able to reach him either. You find out anything?”
“Yeah. Our killer isn’t Jordan Kraus, I would’ve put money on him, but I just left his house. He’s blind and couldn’t have killed Rayanne Johnson. Then I called Steve Yarrow. Reece left him saying something about clearing up old angers. Any idea what that means, Frank?”
“Gotta be either the brother or the father, my guess.”
“That’s what I thought. I think Reece might be on a collision course with the real murderer. I’m halfway to Portland now.”
“So if it isn’t one of the three guys, my subtraction leaves only one other person.”
“Right. Brother Carl.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Frank said. “His own brother. Reece could be walking into a trap.”
“Right again. This thing is coming to a head. Reece has a two-hour jump on me. I can’t beat him to Portland, but my starting point was nearer. It’ll be close. I’m on my way, but I may be too late.”
“I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but do you think you should call the Portland police?”
“Considering Reece is wanted for two murders, the police might shoot him, no matter what I tell them. That kind of thing’s happened before.”
“Reece is a loose cannon,” Frank said. “No telling what he’ll do if the police corner him. He’d rather die than go back to prison.”
“Another reason not to call the police. Gotta go.”
Clarence punched in Jeri’s number. Her secretary answered. “Tell her to call me ASAP. That’s like yesterday, Doreen.” He disconnected the call and stepped on the gas.
When Jeraldine called back, Clarence repeated what Frank told him and how Dana had handled herself.
“Quick thinking, but unless they can prove she was with Reece, they don’t have enough to hold her for long,” she said. “I’m on my way. Shit, can this get any more complicated?”
“Yeah. You want to hear what I found out?”
“Only if it’s good. Is it good?”
“Not really.”
“Let me call you back from the car. I need to tell the office where I’m going and have them track down a bail bondsman in case I need one. Gotta be one step ahead. I’m on the move, love. Back in a flash.”
Frank was right—clearing up old business meant either Carl or his father. His father couldn’t physically hurt Reece, but if Clarence had this figured right, Carl could and would. That son of a bitch. Nailing his brother for double murder.
Could Reece have found out? If so, how? And if he did, he could be walking into a trap right now. Clarence needed to warn him. He pressed the Send button. “Come on, Reece. Answer, dammit.” Nothing.
Timing meant everything.
He slammed his foot on the accelerator.
W
hy, Carl?
The question bounced around in Reece’s mind as he sped away from the nursing home. He punched the steering wheel. “Damn!” His brother hated him. Why? What had he ever done to Carl?
His head pounded. A breath huffed out of his lungs. Then another and another, until he was gasping for air. Rage filled his insides, and he felt the vise tightening in his chest.