CHAPTER 8
Everybody Has a Price
Nesha was driving the black truck.
The same truck that had followed me to the beauty supply store.
The same truck that passed Tasha’s house three times.
The same truck Detective Lawson used to kidnap my son.
I pressed my face against the window, trying to make sure my eyes weren’t lying to me.
They weren’t.
It was her.
Nesha sat behind the wheel with both hands gripping it. She didn’t look toward the police car or acknowledge me.
She kept following.
My best friend had been beside me through everything. She watched my children. Helped me find Dre. Shot Malcolm when he tried to kill me.
Now she was driving the vehicle connected to every bad thing that had happened.
I thought about the way she noticed the duffel bag in my trunk.
How she knew Dre had spoken to Shay.
How she arrived at the basement after I told her to stay in the car.
How the shooter seemed to know every place we went.
Nesha hadn’t been helping me survive.
She had been keeping me alive long enough to finish the setup.
The female officer in the passenger seat turned around.
“Sit back.”
“Who’s driving that truck?”
“What truck?”
“The black one behind us.”
She looked through the rear window.
“No one is behind us.”
I turned around again.
The road was empty.
Nesha had disappeared.
I squeezed the note inside my hand until my nails cut into my palm.
DON’T SAY ANYTHING. YOUR MOTHER SENT ME.
Which one of them had my mother sent?
The officer?
Nesha?
Both?
At that point, I didn’t know whether my mother was trying to save me or bury me.
???
The police station smelled like stale coffee, dirty carpet, and broken promises.
They took my fingerprints, photographed my face, and removed everything from my pockets. The female officer who passed me the note was nowhere in sight.
Nobody found the paper.
I had chewed it into tiny pieces and swallowed it before we arrived.
They placed me inside a small interview room with a metal table and three chairs. A camera watched from the corner.
I knew enough to keep my mouth shut.
But knowing what to do and actually doing it were two different things when somebody had threatened your children.
The door opened.
Lawson walked in carrying a folder and two bottles of water.
He placed one in front of me.
“I’m not thirsty.”
“You’ve had a long night.”
“I want a lawyer.”
“You haven’t been charged yet.”
“You read me my rights.”
“That was procedure.”
“So is my lawyer.”
He sat across from me.
“You’re in a lot of trouble, Keyshia.”
I stared at the wall behind him.
“Possession with intent to distribute,” he continued. “A stolen firearm. Resisting arrest.”
“My gun isn’t stolen.”
“The serial number was filed off.”
“That wasn’t my gun.”
“It was found inside your bedroom.”
“You planted it.”
He opened the folder.
“Then there’s Andre Wilson.”
I looked at him.
Lawson smiled.
“Now I have your attention.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“You called him Dre.”
I said nothing.
“He was found dead at the basketball court on Thirty-Second. Witnesses reported seeing your vehicle leave the scene.”
I kept my face still.
“We recovered shell casings matching the caliber of the weapon found inside your bedroom.”
“That’s convenient.”
“It gets better.”
He slid a photograph across the table.
It showed Dre lying on the pavement.
My stomach twisted, but I refused to look away.
“His blood was found on your clothing.”
“He bled on me before he got shot.”
Lawson leaned back.
“So you were there.”
Fuck.
One sentence.
That was all it took.
I had given him exactly what he wanted.
“I want my lawyer.”
“You pressed a gun against Dre’s body. Your fingerprints were on his shirt and inside his pockets. His phone was found in your car.”
My head snapped toward him.
Dre’s phone had been inside my purse.
The police never found it during the search.
At least, I didn’t think they did.
“Are you sure you want a lawyer?” Lawson asked. “Because right now, I’m the only person who can help you.”
“You kidnapped my son.”
“Your son is safe.”
“You tied him to a chair.”
“That’s quite an imagination.”
“He identified you.”
“He saw me at your house during the arrest. Children get confused.”
“He saw you before the arrest.”
“Can you prove it?”
I looked toward the camera.
Lawson followed my eyes.
“That camera has been off since we came in.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
He stood, reached toward the wall, and unplugged it.
The small red light disappeared.
Then he sat back down.
“I need the original folder.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The folder you carried into your cousin’s house.”
“If you know where it is, go get it.”
“We did.”
My heart skipped.
“What did you find?”
“A copy.”
I said nothing.
“Karen changed the account numbers,” he continued. “Every page leads to a dead end.”
“Maybe there was never any money.”
“There’s always money.”
“What do you want from me?”
“The package.”
“The police have the cocaine.”
“I don’t care about the drugs.”
“Then why did you plant them in my son’s room?”
“To make sure you came here.”
“You could’ve arrested me at the club.”
“Too many people were watching.”
“My mother?”
“Among others.”
“Is she alive?”
He studied my face.
“You already know the answer.”
“I saw her at the club.”
“Did you?”
He opened the folder and removed several photographs.
Each one showed the club parking lot from a different angle.
I was visible.
Jayce was visible.
Lawson was visible.
My mother wasn’t in any of them.
Neither were her men.
“That doesn’t mean shit.”
“It means no one else saw her.”
“I saw her.”
“You’d had a traumatic night. Your son was missing. You were covered in blood.”
“I didn’t imagine my own mother.”
“Then where did she go?”
I couldn’t answer.
I had watched her fire at the lights.
After that, everything went dark.
“Karen Carter has been dead for nineteen years,” Lawson said. “You might want to remember that before you tell anyone otherwise.”
“You’re scared of her.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m trying to help you.”
“You planted cocaine in my house, framed me for murder, and kidnapped my son.”
“All because you took something that doesn’t belong to you.”
“What’s inside the package?”
He stared at me.
“My mother said it was a key.”
“Your mother says a lot of things.”
“You heard her?”
He realized his mistake.
If my mother wasn’t at the club, he couldn’t have heard anything she said.
“You know she’s alive,” I continued. “You’ve known this whole time.”
Lawson gathered the photographs.
“Where is the package?”
“Fuck you.”
He leaned across the table.
“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to make sure you never see your children again.”
I leaned forward until only a few inches separated us.
“You already made the mistake of touching one of them.”
The door opened.
A tall Black man in a navy suit entered carrying a leather briefcase.
“Detective Lawson, step away from my client.”
Lawson sat back.
“She hasn’t been formally charged.”
“Then she’s free to leave.”
“We’re still questioning her.”
“Not anymore.”
The attorney placed a business card on the table.
MARCUS REED — CRIMINAL DEFENSE ATTORNEY
“I’m Marcus Reed,” he said. “Ms. Carter’s legal counsel.”
“I didn’t call a lawyer,” I said.
“No, but someone called one for you.”
My mother.
Lawson stood.
“We’ll finish this later.”
“No, you won’t,” Marcus said. “Any further contact with my client goes through me.”
Lawson smiled at me before walking out.
The door closed.
Marcus waited several seconds before speaking.
“Did you tell him anything?”
“Who sent you?”
“We need to discuss your case.”
“Who sent you?”
He stared toward the camera.
“It’s off,” I said.
“That doesn’t mean they aren’t listening.”
He opened his briefcase and removed a yellow legal pad.
“Write your questions.”
I picked up the pen.
DID MY MOTHER SEND YOU?
He read it and wrote beneath my question.
NO.
I looked at him.
He continued writing.
NESHA DID.
I pushed the pad away.
“Get me out of here.”
“We’re working on it.”
“You work for her?”
“I represent you.”
“I don’t want anything from Nesha.”
“You will once you understand what she risked to get here.”
“I saw her driving Lawson’s truck.”
Marcus’s expression changed.
“Are you sure?”
“I know what my best friend looks like.”
He closed the legal pad.
“Then we have a bigger problem.”
“What?”
“That truck was recovered fifteen minutes ago.”
“Where?”
“Near the river.”
“Where’s Nesha?”
“Nobody knows.”
“Was there blood inside?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Answer me.”
“Yes.”
My anger disappeared.
“How much?”
“Enough to suggest somebody was badly injured.”
“Or killed?”
He didn’t answer.
I leaned back in the chair.
Nesha could have betrayed me.
Or somebody could have taken her the same way they took Jayce.
“When did she call you?” I asked.
“She didn’t call. She came to my office.”
“When?”
“Two hours before your arrest.”
“That’s impossible. She was with me.”
“She wasn’t alone.”
“Who was with her?”
“A woman.”
My pulse quickened.
“What did she look like?”
“About fifty. Scar along the left side of her jaw.”
My mother.
“What did she say?”
“That the Carter family was under attack and you were about to be framed.”
“She knew about the raid before it happened.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t she stop it?”
Marcus looked toward the door.
“Because she needed you arrested.”
I stared at him.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“She believes the police station is the safest place for you right now.”
“Safe? Lawson is in this building.”
“So are thirty other officers. He can threaten you, but he can’t make you disappear.”
“He kidnapped my son in broad daylight.”
“And your mother got him back.”
“My mother used me as bait.”
“I didn’t say she was a good person. I said she’s trying to keep you alive.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about my children?”
“They’re with Tasha.”
“Are they safe?”
“For now.”
I hated those two words.
For now.
Marcus stood.
“The prosecutor approved the drug charge. They’re holding you until arraignment in the morning.”
“What about Dre?”
“They don’t have enough to charge you with his murder yet.”
“Yet?”
“They’re testing your hands for gunshot residue.”
“I fired my gun.”
His face tightened.
“At Dre?”
“No. At the car that shot him.”
“Did anyone see the car?”
“Nesha.”
“And now Nesha is missing.”
I looked down at my hands.
Everything depended on a woman I no longer knew if I could trust.
An officer entered carrying a pair of handcuffs.
“Time to move.”
“Where are you taking her?” Marcus asked.
“County.”
He gathered his things.
“Don’t speak to anyone,” he told me. “Not an officer, not another inmate—no one.”
They cuffed my wrists and led me into the hallway.
Lawson stood near the end, watching.
As I passed him, he whispered, “Your friend won’t be testifying.”
I stopped.
“What did you do to her?”
The officer pulled my arm.
“Keep moving.”
Lawson smiled.
“If they find her body, maybe we’ll add another murder charge.”
I lunged toward him, but the officer caught me.
“You motherfucker!”
Lawson laughed as they dragged me toward the elevator.
The doors opened.
The female officer who gave me the note stood inside.
She pressed the button for the garage.
When the doors closed, she looked at the officer beside me.
“I’ll take her from here.”
“I’m supposed to ride with you.”
“Lawson needs you upstairs.”
“He didn’t say anything to me.”
“He just called it over the radio.”
The officer hesitated before stepping off.
The elevator doors closed again.
Now it was just me and her.
“Where is Nesha?” I asked.
“Don’t talk.”
“You said my mother sent you.”
“I said don’t talk.”
The elevator reached the garage.
She escorted me toward a transport van parked near the rear exit.
“Get inside.”
“Not until you tell me where my friend is.”
Her eyes moved toward the security camera above us.
Then she leaned close.
“Nesha isn’t your friend.”
My heart sank.
“What is she?”
The officer unlocked my handcuffs.
“Your sister.”
Before I could react, the garage lights went out.
The rear door of the van opened.
My mother sat inside.
“Get in, Keyshia,” she said. “We don’t have much time.”
I remained frozen.
“Nesha is my sister?”
My mother’s face showed no emotion.
“Half-sister.”
“Where is she?”
“She has the package.”
“Is she alive?”
“For now.”
There were those two words again.
My mother reached for me.
“Get inside, and I’ll tell you everything.”
Sirens sounded somewhere above us.
I looked toward the elevator.
Then back at the woman I had buried nineteen years ago.
Getting into that van meant becoming a fugitive.
Staying meant trusting Lawson.
Neither choice felt safe.
But only one of them could lead me to Nesha.
I climbed inside.
The door slammed shut behind me.