4. Vice Blackwell #3
She rested her hand against the side of my face the same way she’d done at the cemetery. “You were my baby too. Still are, even if you think you too grown for me to say it.”
“I don’t think that.”
“Yes, you do.”
I smiled a little. “You just like arguing with me.”
“I raised you. I know exactly how hardheaded you are.”
I leaned over and kissed her forehead before standing. “Get some rest when everybody leaves.”
“You too.”
“I will.”
“Liar.”
I didn’t bother arguing because we both knew she was right.
When I stepped back into the hallway, Mace was standing near the living room talking to one of my cousins. His eyes dropped to the hospital bag in my hand for a second before coming back to my face, but he didn’t ask about it.
I didn’t think much of it. He already knew my aunt had Sam’s belongings, and after the day we’d had, I wasn’t in the mood to stand around discussing what I might or might not find. If there was something in that bag that could tell me why Sam had been at Grady, I’d deal with it when I got home.
I stayed at my aunt’s house for another hour before finally leaving. Mace said he had something to handle, so we went our separate ways. I had left one of my cars at my aunt’s house last night, so we weren’t planning on riding back together anyway.
I drove home with Sam’s belongings sitting on the passenger seat beside me.
When I got home, I went straight to my office, set the bag on my desk, and emptied everything out.
His wallet, keys, watch and phone were all there.
I went through his wallet first, checking the cards and a few receipts tucked behind them, but nothing stood out. His keys weren’t much help either. There was one I didn’t recognize, so I set it aside before reaching for his phone.
The screen came on when I pressed the button and it was locked.
“Of course.”
I tried Sam’s birthday first, then his mother’s. Neither one worked. After a few more guesses, the phone locked me out for a minute, and I leaned back in my chair, irritated as hell.
Sam wasn’t the type to use some random number he’d forget. Whatever the code was, it meant something to him. The problem was figuring out what.
I picked up his wallet again and went through it slower this time, checking behind every card before pulling out an old folded receipt. Nothing. I tossed it back onto the desk and looked at the phone.
There had to be a way into it.
My own phone started ringing before I could try again, and Mace’s name appeared across the screen. I answered and leaned back in my chair.
“What?” I answered.
“You good?”
“I’m straight.”
“You need anything?”
“Nah...”
There was a brief pause before he said, “A’ight. I’m ‘bout to head home.”
I glanced at the time and saw it was damn near midnight. I hadn’t even realized it was that late. “You need to get some sleep.”
“So do you.”
“I’ll sleep when I find out who killed my cousin.”
Mace got quiet for a second before saying, “Yeah… me too.”
Something in his voice made me look away from Sam’s phone.
“You sure you good?” I asked him.
He let out a tired breath. “Vice, I just buried my nigga today. What you think?”
“I think you look worse than I do.”
“I’m good, man.”
There was that answer again.
I could’ve pushed, but I didn’t. Mace had been working for me long enough that if there was something he wanted me to know, he’d tell me when he was ready.
“A’ight. I’ll holla at you tomorrow.”
“Bet.”
The call ended, and I set my phone down before reaching for Sam’s again.
I stared at Sam’s phone for another few seconds before setting it back on the desk. I could sit there all night guessing numbers and probably lock the damn thing for good, or I could give it to somebody who knew what they were doing.
That decision was easy.
I leaned back in my chair and rubbed a hand over my face.
The house was too quiet, giving my mind too much room to go places I didn’t want it to go.
Less than a week ago, Sam had been alive.
Now his shit was spread across my desk while I tried to figure out what he’d been doing before somebody put bullets in him.
My eyes moved back to his keys.
There were five on the ring. His house key, the key to his car, one for my office building and another I recognized from one of the restaurants. The last one was smaller than the others and didn’t look like it belonged to a regular door.
I picked it up and turned it between my fingers.
Could’ve been anything.
A lockbox. Storage unit. Safe-deposit box.
Or nothing that mattered at all.
I removed it from the ring and set it beside his phone anyway. Right now, I wasn’t overlooking shit.
My phone vibrated across the desk with a text from my aunt asking if I’d made it home. I responded before she had a chance to call and fuss at me, then sat here for another few minutes before finally getting up.
I needed a drink.
I poured myself some cognac and carried the glass back into my office. Sleep still wasn’t happening, so I might as well use the time to figure out what I could.
I opened Sam’s wallet again and started going through the receipts I’d almost thrown away the first time.
Gas stations. Restaurants. A couple stores.
Nothing that explained why he’d been at Grady.
The last receipt was from three days before the shooting and came from a restaurant I knew Sam liked, which didn’t tell me shit either.
I tossed it onto the desk and took a drink.
“What the fuck were you doing, Sam?”
The question lingered in the air without an answer.
I knew what the police had told me. According to the cameras they were able to pull, Sam had driven into the parking garage alone. He’d parked, gotten out and walked toward the elevators. A few minutes later, two men followed him inside and they walked back out and headed opposite from his car.
That was it.
No clear faces.
No plates.
No explanation for why Sam had been there in the first place.
The nurse had heard enough to know they were talking about me, but not enough to know why. That was the part that kept bothering me.
Sam had been arguing with somebody about me.
According to Milan, he’d said I deserved to know something.
Know what, though?
I took another drink and stared at the phone.
Whatever Sam had been trying to tell me, there was a good chance the answer was sitting right in front of me.
I just couldn’t get to it yet.
My phone rung again, and this time I almost ignored it until I saw my aunt’s name.
“What you doing calling me? I just texted you.”
“I know what you did. I asked if you made it home, not for you to send me one word.”
“I said yeah.”
“Exactly. One word.”
I shook my head and leaned back in my chair. “I’m home, Auntie.”
“That’s better.”
“You called me for that?”
“No.” Her voice changed, and I sat up a little straighter. “I was thinking about something.”
“What?”
“Sam came by here a few days before he died.”
That got my attention.
“What day?”
“I don’t remember exactly. Maybe three or four days before.”
“What did he want?”
“Nothing. At least that’s what he said.”
I frowned. “What you mean?”
“He came over asking me questions about your mama.”
My hand stopped halfway to the glass.
“What kind of questions?”
“That’s what I asked him. He wanted to know how old you were when she started using drugs, when she got sick and a bunch of other stuff I hadn’t thought about in years.”
For a second, I didn’t say anything.
“Why the fuck was Sam asking about my mama?”
“I don’t know, Kaiden.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“Of course I asked. He said he was trying to figure something out.”
My jaw tightened as I looked at Sam’s belongings scattered across the desk.
“Trying to figure what out?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Did he ask about anything else?”
My aunt got quiet for a second. Then she said, “Your father.”
I sat up straighter and asked, “What about him?”
“He asked if I ever found out who he was.”
The room suddenly felt a lot quieter than it had a few seconds ago.
“And what’d you tell him?”
“The truth. I don’t know.”
That was the same answer I’d heard my entire life. My mother had never told anybody who my father was, and by the time I was old enough to start asking questions, she was too far gone to give me a straight answer.
“Did Sam say why he wanted to know?”
“No. He just kept asking questions.” She paused before adding, “I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Sam was always getting curious about something, but now…” Her voice trailed off.
“Now what?”
“Now he’s dead.”
For some reason, my eyes shifted down to his phone again.
“You think it had something to do with why he was at that hospital?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I called you.”
Neither one of us said anything for a while. I didn’t know what Sam could’ve possibly been looking for in my mother’s past, but I knew one thing for damn sure—he hadn’t been asking those questions for no reason.
“Auntie, think… Did he ask you anything else?”
“I’m trying.”
“Did he mention anybody? A name? Somewhere he was going?”
“No.” She sounded frustrated now. “I already told you everything I remember.”
“A’ight… Don’t say any of this to anyone. The detectives or anyone. Okay? ”
“Okay, I won’t… I just thought you should know…” There was a moment of silence before she called my name. “Kaiden...”
“What’s up?”
She sighed. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I ended the call and set my phone down.
For the first time since Sam died, I had something.
It wasn’t much, and I didn’t understand how any of it connected, but Sam had been asking questions about my mother and the father I’d never known days before somebody killed him.
Then he’d gone to Grady.
Then Milan heard him telling somebody I deserved to know the truth.
I picked up Sam’s phone and stared at the locked screen again. Tomorrow, I was getting into this mothafucka… One way or another.