31. Nairobi, Noir #2
They snuck out the broken door and headed for the parking lot.
Answers were an hour and a half away. The drive itself was quiet. Spring played every scenario over in her mind, and the more she thought about it, the more she was certain the Russians had something to do with her mother’s death.
When they arrived in Beaumont, it felt smaller than she remembered last week. Not quieter, just tighter, like the town had shrunk around its secrets.
Brian pulled into the lot outside her dad’s office and killed the engine.
The building sat there plain and closed, blinds drawn, parking spaces empty except for one sun-faded sedan she knew wasn’t his.
Spring leaned forward, scanning anyway. “He’s not here.”
Brian checked his watch. “Shocking.”
She ignored his tone. Her eyes stayed on the street, instinct buzzing under her skin. “I could call him,” she said. But she already knew she wouldn’t. “Nope,” she decided out loud. “If he’s here, we’ll see him.”
Brian turned toward her slowly. “You’re not serious.”
“This isn’t a big town,” she said. “If he drove up here, he’s somewhere close.”
Brian laughed, sharp. “I am not spending my whole day riding backroads like this is some low-budget detective movie.”
She was already thinking, mapping their route. “We don’t need all the backroads. Just the main routes between here and our old house.”
He sighed like a man stepping into a mess he knew he’d regret. “I swear, this is why people end up on the news. I can hear it right now: ‘Two Black teens murdered today’.”
“We’ll be fine. But we’ve come too far. I gotta know.”
“Then we’ll find him.” She was stunned by his response. “Hey, this is what the Justice League is for. I got you, Nubia,” he vowed.
She smiled at him. He may have complained, but he was always there in the clutch.
The first street turned up nothing. Then the second. Strip mall, church parking lot, local park, all empty. The longer they drove, the less they saw. The small town had a way of doing that.
After a spell, Brian turned to head back to the offices. “Okay. I’m calling it,” he said.
She didn’t hear him. She was too busy looking down a side street. She tapped him on the shoulder. “That’s his car.”
Brian hit the brakes. “What?”
She pointed. A familiar sedan sat half-hidden in a driveway a block down. “That’s his license plate,” she said.
Brian leaned forward, squinting. “Whose house is that?”
“I don’t know,” she answered sharply. Her pulse picked up.
“Alright,” Brian muttered. “Time to put these acting skills to work.”
“Wait, what? No. He knows you.”
“He’s seen me around, he isn’t expecting to see me here. Plus, I got a plan.”
He pulled around the corner and parked across the street, just far enough to look accidental. His windows were tinted dark – too dark for anyone to see in clearly. Spring slid lower in the seat, heart pounding, eyes sharp.
“Stay down,” he said. “No matter what.”
Brian stepped out, posture shifting instantly. Shoulders relaxed, smile practiced. He grabbed a folded clipboard from the trunk, along with some glasses – something he’d picked up during a short-lived summer job – and smoothed his hoodie like it was a uniform.
He walked up the driveway like he belonged there.
Spring held her breath as she cracked the window so she could hear their conversation.
The door opened. Her father stepped into view first.
Her chest tightened.
Brian launched into it immediately, voice friendly, apologetic. “Hey, sir, sorry to bother you. We’re checking utilities in the area. Got a report about a gas leak off this block. Shouldn’t take more than a minute.”
Her dad frowned. “Gas?”
“Yeah,” Brian nodded. “Probably nothing, but protocol says we gotta verify. Is anyone else inside?”
A pause, then a dark-skinned woman appeared behind him.
Spring’s fingers curled into the seat.
The woman leaned slightly into the doorway, more curious than alarmed. She was tall, well put-together.
And when she looked toward Brian?—
Spring saw them.
Blue eyes.
Clear. Undeniable.
Her breath left her in a rush she couldn’t stop.
Brian kept talking, smooth and easy. “If you don’t mind stepping out front for just a second – company policy. We don’t want anyone inside if there’s even a chance of a leak.”
Her dad hesitated, then stepped fully onto the porch. The woman followed.
Spring stayed low, vision tunneling through the windshield.
The woman laughed lightly at something Brian said, brushing hair back from her face. Sunlight caught her eyes again.
Blue.
Not a name.
Not Russian.
A description.
Brian finished the bit quickly – thank yous, apologies, false reassurance – and walked back to the car without looking back.
The moment he closed the door, Spring sat up. Her hands were shaking.
“Say it. I’m good,” Brian said quietly, starting the engine.
“It wasn’t Yabluidbytch,” Spring whispered. “That night. That’s what my mom said.”
Brian pulled away slowly, eyes on the road. “What?”
“She was talking about her.”
“I’m not following, Spring. What’s going on?”
Spring swallowed hard. “It was a Thursday. Momma never wore perfume. She must’ve smelled it on him.”
Brian said nothing. He could tell she was processing, so he stayed quiet as he drove back to town.
Spring finally said the words out loud. “She was saying ‘your blue-eyed bitch’.”
A tear fell from her eye and then her face hardened.
The words didn’t sound angry anymore.
It sounded like truth.