CHAPTER 17
Seven Million Lies
The first thing I heard was a machine beeping.
The second was my daughter crying.
“Momma, wake up.”
I opened my eyes.
Pain tore through my chest before I could move.
A hospital room slowly came into focus.
White walls.
Blue curtains.
A television mounted near the ceiling.
Two IVs ran into my arm.
My shoulder and upper chest were wrapped in thick bandages.
Amaya stood beside the bed with tears covering her face.
Jayce was behind her, trying not to cry.
Both of my babies were alive.
That was all I needed to know.
I reached for them.
They climbed carefully onto the bed and pressed themselves against my good side.
“I told you I was coming back,” I whispered.
“You took too long,” Jayce said.
“I know.”
“Did the bad man shoot you?”
“Yes.”
“Is he dead?”
I looked toward the door.
“I don’t know.”
Jayce frowned.
“You shot him, right?”
“Dymond did.”
“Is she a police?”
“No.”
“Then why does she have a gun?”
That was a fair question.
“Because our family is complicated.”
Jayce rolled his eyes.
“You keep saying that.”
“And it keeps being true.”
The door opened.
Tasha entered with a cup of coffee in one hand and a phone in the other. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days.
“You’re awake.”
“How long was I out?”
“Almost twenty hours.”
“What?”
“You lost a lot of blood. The bullet passed beneath your collarbone and missed the artery by less than an inch.”
“Dymond?”
“Two broken ribs, bruised throat, mild hypothermia. She’s already arguing with the doctors.”
“Rome?”
Tasha hesitated.
“Still in surgery.”
“Laila?”
“Downstairs with his people. She won’t leave.”
I looked at Jayce and Amaya.
“Who brought them here?”
“Daddy.”
My father.
The word still felt strange.
“Where is he?”
“Talking to attorneys.”
“Why?”
Tasha nodded toward the window.
For the first time, I noticed the two uniformed officers standing outside my room.
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not officially.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means they’re waiting until a doctor says you won’t die during transport.”
“Lawson’s video?”
“Every station in the state has it.”
The television was muted, but my face covered the screen.
A photograph from my driver’s license appeared beside an image of the burning bank.
The headline read:
LOUISVILLE WOMAN SUSPECTED IN DETECTIVE’S MURDER AND CARTER BANK EXPLOSION
Another image appeared.
Dymond.
ALLEGED CRIMINAL ORGANIZATION LEADER DYMOND CARTER LINKED TO RIVERBOAT SHOOTING
I reached for the remote and turned up the volume.
“Authorities have not confirmed the total number of casualties aboard the Belle of Louisville,” a reporter said.
“Detective Aaron Lawson was found dead shortly before the First Carter Bank explosion. A prerecorded statement allegedly made by Lawson identifies Keyshia Carter as the leader of a criminal conspiracy involving narcotics, murder, and financial crimes.”
The screen changed to footage of my beauty supply store surrounded by police tape.
My legal dream had become a crime scene.
“Turn it off,” Tasha said.
I did.
“Where’s the ledger?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“You don’t need to know.”
I almost smiled.
She had learned.
“What about the copy Meech made?”
“Thirty-one percent before Victor locked him out. It’s enough to prove Lawson was being paid by the Circle, but not enough to clear everything.”
“Then release it.”
“Dymond wants to wait.”
“For what?”
“To identify every Circle member still active.”
“She doesn’t get to decide.”
“The evidence connects her too.”
“Then we release the parts that don’t.”
Tasha moved the coffee to the table.
“Key, we need to talk about Nesha.”
My body went cold.
“Is she alive?”
“She survived surgery.”
Relief came first.
Then I remembered the final words I had heard before losing consciousness.
Seven million dollars.
Transferred to Nesha.
“Where is she?”
“We don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“She disappeared from the clinic six hours ago.”
“A woman with a fresh gunshot wound disappeared?”
“The security cameras went offline for nine minutes. When they came back, her room was empty.”
I looked toward the officers outside.
“Did police take her?”
“No record of it.”
“Victor?”
“Maybe.”
“But seven million went into her account.”
“Not exactly.”
Tasha unlocked her phone and showed me an image of a wire transfer.
The receiving account belonged to a company called New Beginnings Medical Group.
The authorized beneficiary was:
JANESHA CARTER
Nesha’s full name.
My best friend had carried my family name her entire life without either of us knowing why.
“The company was created two years ago,” Tasha said.
“What kind of medical group?”
“It doesn’t exist. No offices. No employees. Nothing.”
“Who opened it?”
“Nesha.”
I stared at her.
“Nesha has trouble remembering the password to the store email.”
“She knows more than she pretends.”
“That doesn’t mean she stole seven million dollars.”
“I didn’t say she stole it.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Tasha sat beside me.
“The transfer wasn’t made after the bank exploded. Kendrick scheduled it three years ago.”
“Then why did it happen last night?”
“It was triggered by his death.”
“How would the account know he died?”
“The destruction protocol inside the vault.”
Kendrick knew he might not leave the bank.
He had planned for his money to move.
Not to Tasha, his daughter.
Not to my mother.
To Nesha.
“Why would he leave her seven million?”
Tasha looked toward the children.
“Jayce, take your sister to get a snack.”
“I want to stay,” Jayce said.
“Please.”
He studied our faces, then took Amaya’s hand.
The moment they left, Tasha closed the door.
“The flash drive contained letters.”
“From Kendrick?”
“Yes.”
“To who?”
“Each of us.”
“Did you read mine?”
“No.”
She reached into her purse and removed a small envelope.
My name was written across the front.
KEYSHIA
The handwriting was neat.
Careful.
Uncle Kendrick’s.
I tore it open.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Keyshia,
If you are reading this, the vault opened and I failed to leave it alive. Do not waste time mourning me. I made choices that created most of the danger surrounding your family. Death is only the bill arriving.
The seven million belongs to Nesha. I promised her mother she would never be left with nothing.
But money is not the reason you must find her.
Nesha knows where Victor keeps the Circle’s original records. She has known since before Dre sent you to the storage unit.
I stopped reading.
“What?”
Tasha watched me.
“Keep going.”
My hands tightened around the letter.
She did not betray you. She made a deal to keep you alive. Unfortunately, the person she made that deal with was me.
Three months ago, I contacted Nesha and told her the truth about her father. I also told her Victor planned to use Dre to place you inside the empire’s path. She agreed to watch you and report every move you made. In exchange, I promised to protect your children.
The photograph taken through the beauty supply store window was not Victor’s. Nesha took it and sent it to me as proof they were still safe.
My heart stopped.
Nesha had taken the picture.
The photograph that started all of this.
The picture that made me believe somebody was hunting my children.
She had been the person behind the window.
I continued reading.
I used the image to frighten you because fear moves faster than trust. For that, I owe you an apology I will never be able to give in person.
Nesha carries the final access code to the Circle archive. Victor knows this. If she has disappeared, assume he found out.
There is one more truth you deserve.
The shooting at the warehouse was not meant for Nesha.
The bullet was meant for Karen.
Your mother knows who fired it.
The letter ended.
I read the final sentence twice.
Then a third time.
“Tasha.”
“I saw it.”
“Where is Momma?”
“At another hospital.”
“Why?”
“She collapsed after you were brought in. They said exhaustion.”
“Get her on the phone.”
“Key—”
“Now.”
Tasha called.
My mother didn’t answer.
She tried my father.
Straight to voicemail.
“What hospital?”
“Jewish.”
“Call the nurses’ station.”
Tasha searched for the number.
Before she could dial, the door opened.
Dymond entered wearing hospital scrubs beneath a long coat. Bruises covered her throat. A bandage stretched across her eyebrow.
The officers outside didn’t stop her.
“How did you get past them?” I asked.
“They think I’m somebody else.”
“You’re on every television in the city.”
“That’s why nobody expects me to walk through the front door.”
She noticed the letter.
“You read it.”
“You knew?”
“Meech recovered the letters from the drive.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“You were unconscious.”
“I’ve been awake for ten minutes.”
“And I came as soon as I heard.”
“Where is Nesha?”
“We found the ambulance.”
“What ambulance?”
“The one that took her from the clinic.”
Tasha stood.
“Where?”
“Abandoned near Shawnee Park.”
“Was there blood?”
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“Enough to know she reopened her wound.”
“Any bodies?”
“The driver.”
“Who was he?”
“Circle.”
“Then Nesha fought back.”
“Looks that way.”
“Where did she go?”
Dymond removed a folded map from her pocket and spread it across the hospital bed.
“Kendrick’s letter says Nesha has the final access code to the original archive.”
“Where is the archive?”
“We think it’s beneath an old church in Portland.”
The same place Pike mentioned on the boat.
“Victor’s warehouse.”
“Not a warehouse,” Dymond said. “A records facility built under St. Augustine Church.”
“That church closed years ago.”
“The church did. The basement didn’t.”
Tasha pointed toward the map.
“This is where Pike said Victor’s people took captives.”
“It’s also the last place Nesha’s phone connected to a tower.”
I pushed the blanket away.
Pain exploded through my chest.
Dymond pressed me back.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Yes, I am.”
“You were shot yesterday.”
“So was Nesha.”
“She disappeared because she had help.”
“Then I’ll get help too.”
“Your help is standing outside waiting to arrest you.”
I looked toward the officers.
“How long do I have?”
“The doctor signed your transfer papers twenty minutes ago,” Tasha said.