17. Vice Blackwell
VICE BLACKWELL
By the time I made it downstairs, Mace had already sent the address twice.
The second message told me not to take forever, and I almost called him just to tell him to shut the fuck up.
Instead, I got into my truck and sat here for a second, staring toward the private elevator before I started the engine.
Milan was upstairs in my home, waiting for me to come back.
I had more important shit to think about, but that didn’t stop her from crossing my mind.
I wasn’t used to anybody waiting for me.
Even when Simone and I were together, she had her own place and eventually got tired of waiting for me to make room for her in mine.
Milan had been in my home less than a day, yet knowing she was upstairs felt more natural than it probably should have.
That shit should’ve bothered me, but it didn’t.
If anything, it made me want to handle whatever the fuck Mace had found and get back to her.
I started the truck and pulled out of the garage.
The address took me away from downtown and into an older neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. Mace’s truck was already parked across the street when I arrived, and he got out as soon as I pulled in behind him.
“You took long enough,” he said.
“It ain’t even been twenty minutes.”
“Felt longer.”
“That’s a personal problem.”
Normally, he would’ve had something smart to say back, but his attention had already returned to the small brick house across the street. The curtains slightly moved before going still again, letting us know whoever was inside had been watching.
“He been in there the whole time?” I asked.
“Yeah. I talked to him on the phone, but he wouldn’t tell me shit until I told him Sam was dead.”
I looked at him. “He didn’t know?”
“Claimed he didn’t.”
That didn’t sit right. Sam’s murder had been on the news, and anybody scared enough to hide from questions should’ve known enough to check what happened to the man asking them.
“What exactly did he say?”
“At first, he acted like he didn’t know who the fuck I was talking about. Soon as I mentioned Grady and told him Sam searched his name before he died, he got quiet. Then he asked if you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That’s what I asked him. He wouldn’t answer. Said if you wanted the truth, you had to come get it yourself.”
I stared at the house for a few seconds. “Sound like a setup to you?”
“Everything sound like a setup to me right now.”
At least we agreed on that.
We crossed the street together, both of us keeping our eyes on the house as we walked up the driveway. Before we reached the porch, the front door opened.
The man standing there looked to be somewhere in his seventies. Gray hair covered most of his head, and a pair of glasses sat low on his nose. He looked at Mace first, then at me, and something changed in his face the second our eyes met.
For a moment, he just stared.
“You Dr. Greene?” I asked.
His eyes moved over my face again before he finally nodded. “Yes.”
“You got something you wanna say?”
He seemed to realize he’d been staring and stepped away from the door. “Come inside.”
Mace glanced at me before we followed him in.
The house smelled like coffee and old furniture. Books covered most of the shelves in the living room, along with family pictures and shit I didn’t pay much attention to. Greene led us into the kitchen and motioned toward the table, but instead of sitting with us, he stayed near the counter.
“I don’t have much time,” he said.
Mace looked around the quiet house. “You retired. Where the fuck you gotta be?”
Greene’s eyes moved to him. “Alive.”
The answer wiped the little bit of humor from Mace’s face.
I pulled out a chair and sat down, while Mace took the one beside me. Greene poured himself a glass of water, and I watched his hand shake before he set the pitcher down.
“You knew Sam?” I asked.
“I met him once.”
“When?”
“A few days before he was killed.”
Mace shifted beside me. “What did he want?”
Greene didn’t answer him. He looked directly at me instead. “He wanted information about your mother.”
I slightly sat back as I cleared my throat. “What did you know about my mother?”
“I treated her.”
“When?”
“Many years ago. I was still at Grady.”
“What did Sam ask you about her?”
Greene finally sat across from us with the glass still in his hand. “He wanted to know how your mother got sick.”
“She was on drugs.”
“She was.”
“And she had AIDS.”
He nodded.
“So what else was there to know?”
Greene looked down at the drink in his hand before answering.
“Your mother was already addicted by the time I treated her, but she was trying to get clean. The first time I saw her, she’d overdosed. When she woke up, she wasn’t worried about dying.” He looked up at me. “She was terrified of someone.”
“Who?”
“She never gave me a name.” I leaned back, waiting for the rest. “She told me someone she trusted introduced her to heroin. By the time she realized what he was doing, she was already addicted. Every time she tried to get clean, he’d pull her right back in.”
“Why?”
“She believed he wanted control over her.”
Silence filled over the room.
My whole life, I’d been told drugs ruined my mother, but nobody ever talked about the person who put them in her hands.
“You believed her?”
“Not at first. Addicts say a lot when they’re scared. But after a while…” He shook his head. “Things started happening that I couldn’t explain.”
Mace leaned forward. “What things?”
“Records disappeared. Notes were changed. Test results vanished from her file.”
“By who?”
“I never found out, but a nurse had to have had something to do with it.”
“You expect us to believe that?” Mace asked.
“I don’t expect you to believe anything, but I’m telling you what I saw and heard.”
I studied Greene’s face.
“Why would anybody care enough to cover for some addict?” I asked.
“That’s exactly what Sam wanted to know. He found me because my name was on one of the original records. He wanted to know if I remembered your mother… and if I remembered the man she kept talking about.”
“Did you?”
“She never gave me a name.”
Mace rubbed his jaw. “So, he came all the way out here for information you didn’t have?”
Greene slowly shook his head. “No. He already had a name.”
Every muscle in my body locked up.
“Whose?”
“He never told me.”
I stared at him.
“Then what the fuck did he want from you?”
“Confirmation…”
“Confirmation of what?”
“That what he’d uncovered matched what I remembered. He asked me for a name and said he wanted to see if it matched the name he knew about.”
“And did it?”
Greene nodded. “I don’t know about the name, but the other information did. He told me he’d found letters… old medical records… things that belonged to his mother.”
“My aunt?”
“Yes.”
That caught me off guard.
My aunt had raised me after my mother couldn’t. She made sure I had food, clothes, somewhere to sleep. The idea that Sam found something connected to my mother among her belongings didn’t make a damn bit of sense.
“What was in them?”
“He didn’t show me everything, but whatever he found made him believe your aunt knew more than she’d ever told either of you.”
I stared at the table. Nothing about this made sense, but I still asked, “What did he want you to confirm?”
Greene didn’t answer right away.
“That your mother believed the man supplying her drugs wasn’t just somebody she knew.”
My jaw tightened.
“How close?”
Greene held my stare. “Very close…”
Mace let out a quiet curse. I sat here running through every face I could remember.
Uncles.
Cousins.
Men who’d been around so long they might as well have been family. I’d spent my entire life hearing the same story.
My mother was an addict…
She couldn’t get clean…
She died…
End of discussion…
Except… That wasn’t the whole truth.
“Why didn’t you tell anybody?”
“I tried.”
“Who?”
“Your aunt.” I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “She came to the hospital once while your mother was admitted. I told her I believed someone was supplying her with drugs and interfering every time she tried to get clean.”
“What’d she say?”
“‘I’ll handle it.’”
“Looks like she didn’t,” I hissed.
“I don’t know what happened after that.”
“I believe you know more than you’re saying,” I told him.
Greene looked away, and before I could say another word, Mace leaned forward.
He said, “Whatever the fuck you scared of already got Sam killed. So, if you know something… now ain’t the time to protect nobody.”
Pain moved across his face when he said Sam’s name.
If I hadn’t known the truth about them, I might’ve missed how personal every word was.
Now that I knew, I could see it in everything Mace did.
The anger. The lack of sleep. The way he was holding himself together with whatever little bit he had left.
Greene pushed his chair back and walked toward a cabinet beside the refrigerator. After moving a few things around, he pulled out a thick manila envelope.
“I kept copies.”
“Copies of what?” I asked.
“The records Sam came for.” He laid the envelope on the table between us. “I never got the chance to give them to him.”
I stared at the envelope. “So you’ve had these the whole time?”
Greene nodded. “I couldn’t bring myself to destroy them.”
“Then why didn’t you show up?”
His shoulders dropped and he said, “Because someone made sure I didn’t.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. The call came from a blocked number.”
“What’d they say?”
“They knew my granddaughter’s name. They knew what school she attended… what time she got out… where she’d be.” His voice got lower. “They told me if I met with Sam, she wouldn’t make it home.”
Mace’s chair scraped across the floor as he stood. “So you chose your family.”
Greene looked him in the eye. “I did, and I’m pretty sure you would’ve as well.”
“You could’ve warned him,” Mace then said.
“I tried…”
“How?”
“I called him twice.”
“And?”
“He never answered.”
“You text him?”
“Yeah… I told him not to come.”
“Did he ever respond?” I asked before Mace could speak up,
Greene slowly shook his head. “I don’t know if he ever saw it.”
I reached for the envelope. “Let’s see what was worth killing Sam over.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket before I could open it, and it was a text from Milan.
Milan. You okay?
For the first time since I sat down, some of the anger in me eased.
I thought about her at my place. The way she’d looked at me before the elevator doors closed. The way she’d told me to come back like there wasn’t another option.
I couldn’t not text her back and have her worried.
ME: Still talking. I’m good.
She texted right back.
Milan: Okay. Be careful.
I stared at the words for a second before putting my phone away.
Mace glanced at me. “She good?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded and looked at Greene. “You tell anybody we were coming?”
“No.”
“You sure about that?”
Greene looked offended, but I didn’t give a fuck. “Yes.”
I stood with the envelope in my hand and told him, “If you remember anything else, you call me.”
“I don’t have your number.”
I pulled a card from my wallet and set it on the table.
Greene picked it up, but before I could turn away, he called my name. I looked back and he said “Sam did all this for you. He was afraid, but he wanted you to know the truth.”
Mace stiffened beside me while I dropped my head.
Hearing that shit didn’t make me feel any better. The only thing running through my mind right now was the fact that my cousin had died because of me.
Neither one of us said another word as we headed for the front door. Mace opened the door, and we stepped outside.
I barely made it halfway down the walkway before all we heard was…
POW!
We both stopped. My head snapped up. Mace’s eyes met mine and neither one of us moved…
TO BE CONTINUED!