CHAPTER 6
My Mother’s Sins
“What do you mean Jayce is gone?”
My voice came out louder than I intended.
Tasha was crying so hard I could barely understand her.
“He was downstairs with Amaya. I went to the kitchen when I saw the police outside. When I came back, the basement door was open.”
“Did you check the backyard?”
“I checked everywhere!”
“What about the garage?”
“He’s not here, Keyshia!”
Shay grabbed my arm.
“What happened?”
I pulled away from her.
“Tasha, listen to me. Is Amaya still with you?”
“Yes.”
“Take her into your bedroom. Lock the door and don’t open it for anybody—not even the police.”
“What if they have a warrant?”
“Make them show it to you through the window.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m coming.”
“Key, I’m sorry. I only left them for a minute.”
“This ain’t your fault.”
Saying it out loud made me realize whose fault it really was.
Mine.
Every decision I made had brought danger closer to my children. I could blame Dre, Lawson, or whoever was controlling that burner phone, but none of them put me in the game.
I did that.
And now my son was paying for it.
The basement window shattered again.
“Move!” Nesha shouted.
We rushed upstairs as another bullet tore through the wall behind us.
Malcolm’s body remained in the basement. I didn’t have time to worry about fingerprints, cameras, or how I would explain being inside a house with a dead man.
My son was missing.
Nothing else mattered.
We ran through Shay’s backyard and climbed over the fence. Nesha’s car was parked in the alley.
“You’re bleeding,” I told Shay.
“I’m fine.”
“You got blood all over your face.”
“And your son is gone. Drive.”
All three of us jumped inside.
Nesha peeled away from the curb before I got my door closed.
I called Jayce’s phone.
It rang from inside my purse.
I closed my eyes.
He had given it to Amaya earlier because she wanted to play a game.
“Try his tablet,” Shay said.
“He doesn’t have service on it.”
“If he’s near Wi-Fi, the call might go through.”
I opened the video app on my phone and pressed his name.
The call rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then somebody answered.
The screen was black.
“Jayce?”
I heard breathing.
“Baby, can you hear me?”
“Momma?”
Relief and panic hit me at the same time.
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you in a car?”
“Yes.”
“Who are you with?”
“A police man.”
I looked at Nesha.
“What does he look like?”
“He has a beard.”
“Is he Black or white?”
“Black.”
“What is he wearing?”
“Regular clothes. He showed me his badge.”
Detective Lawson was Black, had a beard, and rarely wore a uniform.
“What did he tell you?”
“He said you got hurt and told him to come get me.”
“I’m not hurt, baby. He lied.”
Jayce started crying.
“Listen to me. I need you to be brave, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Look out the window. Tell me what you see.”
“It’s dark.”
“Do you see any signs? Any stores?”
“I see a bridge.”
Louisville had too many bridges for that to help.
“Can you hear anything?”
“A train.”
Nesha looked at me.
“There’s a train track near River Road.”
The warehouse from the picture.
“Jayce, is the car moving?”
“No.”
“Can you unlock the door?”
“I tried. It won’t open.”
A man’s voice came through the speaker.
“That’s enough.”
The screen changed.
Detective Lawson’s face appeared.
“You touch my son, I’ll kill you.”
“You need to stop making threats you’re not in a position to carry out.”
“Let him go.”
“Bring me the folder.”
“You already know I have it. Why take my child?”
“Because you don’t follow directions.”
“Where do you want it?”
“You’ll bring it to Club Blu at ten.”
I looked at Shay.
That was where she was supposed to meet my mother.
“You know about the meeting,” I said.
Lawson smiled.
“We know about everything.”
“Put Jayce back on the phone.”
“You’ll see him when I see the folder.”
“If there’s one mark on him—”
The call ended.
I immediately tried calling back.
No answer.
“Turn around,” I told Nesha.
“What?”
“We have to get the folder.”
“The police are outside your house.”
“I know.”
“You can’t go there.”
“Lawson has my son!”
“And he wants you to walk into your house, grab a bag full of cocaine, and carry it to him. That’s possession and trafficking.”
“I don’t care what they charge me with.”
“You’ll care when you’re doing thirty years and both your kids have to grow up without you.”
I leaned forward between the seats.
“Turn this car around.”
Nesha looked at me through the rearview mirror.
“I’m trying to save you.”
“Save my son first.”
Shay placed her hand on my arm.
“We don’t need the real folder.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Your mother gave me a copy.”
“Where is it?”
“At my house.”
“The house we just left with a dead man in the basement?”
“It’s not inside the house.”
“Then where?”
“Inside the birthday cake.”
I stared at her.
“You hid a folder in a cake?”
“It’s a fake cake. The bottom layer opens.”
Nesha shook her head.
“This family is crazy as hell.”
“Why would my mother give you a copy?” I asked.
“She told me if anybody came after her, I was supposed to make sure you got it.”
“Why me?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because she wouldn’t tell me everything!”
“Can we argue about this after we get Jayce?” Nesha interrupted.
She was right.
“Go back to Shay’s,” I said.
???
Police lights flashed near the front of Shay’s street, so Nesha entered through the alley and stopped behind the house.
“I’ll get it,” Shay said.
“You can barely walk.”
“It’s my house. I know where I hid it.”
“I’m going with you.”
Nesha kept the engine running while Shay and I climbed over the fence.
The back door was still open.
Malcolm’s body was exactly where we left it, but the phone that had been in his pocket was gone.
Somebody had entered the house after us.
“Where’s the cake?” I whispered.
“In the pantry.”
We moved through the kitchen.
The cake looked real. Three white tiers trimmed in gold sat inside a large box. THIRTY & THRIVING was written across the top.
Shay lifted the bottom layer and pulled out a thin black folder.
I opened it.
The first page had the same list of names I had seen inside the storage unit, but this one included photographs and handwritten notes.
Lawson’s name appeared near the top.
Beside it, my mother had written:
RECRUITED 2009. COMPROMISED 2014. RESPONSIBLE FOR KENDRICK CARTER’S DEATH.
Uncle Kendrick.
The name that had been crossed out in the original folder.
“He killed my uncle?”
“I don’t know,” Shay whispered.
I turned the page.
There was a photograph of my mother standing beside Lawson.
She looked older, but there was no mistaking her face.
My mother.
Alive.
Beneath the photograph was a date from six months ago.
My knees nearly gave out.
“She was here six months ago?”
Shay looked away.
“You said you saw her in Atlanta two years ago.”
“I did.”
“You never said you saw her again.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then how was this picture taken?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop fucking lying to me!”
Footsteps moved across the living room.
I closed the folder.
Shay grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter while I raised my gun.
A woman appeared in the doorway.
She wore a black pantsuit, dark sunglasses, and her hair pulled into a tight bun. Two armed men stood behind her.
She removed her glasses.
My breath left my body.
The last time I saw that face, I was twelve years old.
She looked older now. Fine lines surrounded her eyes, and a scar ran from her left ear to the corner of her jaw.
But she was still the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
“Hello, Keyshia,” she said.
I couldn’t move.
Couldn’t speak.
For nineteen years, I believed my mother was buried beneath a headstone carrying the name KAREN CARTER.
Now she was standing in front of me like she had only been gone for a weekend.
Shay lowered the knife.
“Aunt Karen.”
My mother’s eyes moved toward her.
“You weren’t supposed to bring her here.”
“Lawson took Jayce,” Shay said.
My mother’s expression changed.
“What?”
“He has my son,” I said, finally finding my voice. “And it’s because of you.”
“Where is he?”
“Club Blu.”
“What time?”
“Ten.”
She checked her watch.
“We have forty-three minutes.”
“You’re not going anywhere until you explain what the fuck is happening.”
“Your son doesn’t have time for explanations.”
“You had nineteen years!”
The two men behind her shifted, but she raised her hand.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. You let me bury you. You let me grow up without you. You missed my graduation, both my babies being born, every birthday—everything!”
“I did it to protect you and Tasha.”
“You keep saying that like it makes it better.”
“I never stopped watching over you.”
“The pictures?”
She nodded.
“You took pictures of my children?”
“I had people watching them.”
“Who?”
“People I trusted.”
“Like Dre?”
“I never trusted Dre.”
“Then why did he say you left the bag?”
“Because I did.”
The admission stunned me.
“You put cocaine in a storage unit and sent me there?”
“The cocaine wasn’t mine. It was already inside the bag when my people recovered it.”
“Then why didn’t you get rid of it?”
“Because Lawson believes the drugs contain something he needs.”
“It’s a brick of cocaine.”
“No. It’s a key.”
I frowned.
“There’s a tracking device sealed inside the package. It leads to the original Carter accounts.”
“The accounts in the folder?”
“Those numbers are useless without the encryption key.”
“Why give it to me?”
“I didn’t. The bag was supposed to go to Rome.”
My mind flashed back to the note.
DO NOT TELL ROME.
“You’re lying.”
She studied my face.
“What did the note say?”
I didn’t answer.
“Keyshia, what did the note say?”
“That I shouldn’t tell Rome.”
My mother’s eyes moved toward one of the men behind her.
“Who had access to that unit?”
“Only three people,” he answered.
“Find the third.”
The man left without another word.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means somebody switched the instructions.”
The burner phone vibrated inside my purse.
A new message appeared.
It was a video of Jayce sitting in a chair inside a dark room. His hands were tied, but he didn’t appear to be hurt.
Lawson stepped into the frame.
“Ten o’clock,” he said. “Bring the original folder and the package. Come alone, or your son dies.”
The video ended.
My mother reached for my phone.
I pulled it away.
“You’ve done enough.”
“If Lawson sees me, he’ll kill Jayce.”
“And you think he’s going to let him go after I give him everything?”
“No.”
Her answer came too quickly.
“You know him better than anybody,” I said. “What is he going to do?”
“He’ll kill both of you.”
Shay covered her mouth.
I tightened my grip around the phone.
“Then why am I going?”
“You aren’t.”
“You think you can stop me?”
“No. But I can give him something he wants more than that folder.”
“What?”
My mother looked me directly in the eyes.
“Me.”
???
At nine fifty-eight, I pulled into Club Blu alone.
At least, that was what Lawson was supposed to believe.
The club was closed, but blue lights illuminated the entrance. The parking lot was empty except for a black truck near the rear door.
The same truck that had been watching me.
The black folder sat on the passenger seat.
Inside my purse was the burner phone, two guns, and a small listening device my mother had given me.
Her men were positioned somewhere nearby.
She refused to tell me where.
I stepped out of the car and raised both hands.
Lawson emerged from the truck.
“Where’s the package?”
“Where’s my son?”
“You don’t ask the questions.”
“Tonight I do.”
He smiled and opened the rear door.
Jayce sat inside.
“Momma!”
I rushed forward.
Lawson pointed his gun at my chest.
“Stop.”
“Let him go.”
“The folder first.”
I held it up.
“The package is somewhere safe.”
His smile disappeared.
“That wasn’t the agreement.”
“You get the folder now. You get the package after Jayce is in my car.”
“You’re not in control here.”
A woman’s voice came from behind him.
“Neither are you.”
My mother stepped from the shadows.
Lawson spun around.
For the first time that night, he looked afraid.
“Karen.”
“Let my grandson go.”
Lawson laughed nervously.
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
“So are a lot of Carters.”
Two armed men appeared on the roof of the club.
Another stepped from behind my car.
Lawson looked around and realized he was surrounded.
“Open the door,” my mother ordered.
He hesitated.
She lifted her gun.
“Open it.”
Lawson unlocked the truck.
Jayce jumped out and ran toward me.
I wrapped my arms around him.
“Did he hurt you?”
Jayce shook his head.
I kissed his face over and over.
“Get him in your car,” my mother said.
I grabbed his hand.
Before we could move, red and blue lights flooded the parking lot.
Police vehicles blocked both exits.
A voice came over a loudspeaker.
“Drop your weapons and get on the ground!”
Lawson smiled.
“You thought I came alone?”
My mother’s men disappeared into the darkness.
She remained still, her gun pointed at Lawson.
“Momma, I’m scared,” Jayce cried.
“Get behind me.”
Officers poured into the parking lot with rifles raised.
“Drop the gun!” one of them shouted.
Lawson placed his weapon on the ground and raised his hands.
My mother looked at me.
For one second, I was twelve years old again, watching her walk out of our house for the last time.
Then she fired at the parking lot lights.
Glass exploded.
Darkness covered everything.
Gunshots erupted.
I grabbed Jayce, threw him into my car, and jumped behind the wheel.
Bullets struck the trunk as I sped toward the exit.
A police cruiser blocked the way.
I slammed into it.
Metal screamed against metal, but the impact pushed the cruiser far enough for me to squeeze past.
I didn’t stop until the club disappeared behind us.
Jayce cried in the passenger seat.
I reached across the console and held his hand.
“You’re safe now.”
“Where’s Grandma?”
I looked at him.
“How do you know that was your grandma?”
“She came to see me before.”
My foot lifted from the gas.
“When?”
“Last week.”
Everything inside me went cold.
“What did she say?”
“She said not to tell you.”
“Why?”
Jayce looked down at his lap.
“She said you wouldn’t understand yet.”
There it was again.
Another person I loved keeping secrets from me.
My phone rang.
Tasha.
I answered.
“I got him.”
She started crying.
“Thank God.”
“Is Amaya okay?”
“She’s fine. The police left.”
“What do you mean they left?”
“They sat outside for about twenty minutes, then drove away.”
It hadn’t been a raid.
It had been a warning.
Or a distraction.
“I’m coming to get her.”
“Are you bringing Jayce?”
“Yes.”
“Key, you can’t keep riding around with them tonight.”
“I’m taking both of my children somewhere nobody can find us.”
“Where?”
“The only place I know they aren’t watching.”
“Where is that?”
I looked at the folder on the passenger-side floor.
“My house.”
I knew going home was dangerous.
I knew Lawson wanted the package.
But I also knew the police had already been there and left.
Surely, they wouldn’t return tonight.
At least, that was what I told myself.
I had no idea they were already preparing the warrant that would destroy my life.