Chapter Thirty-Eight #2
CJ resisted the impulse to make a go for the door. She didn’t have her pepper spray and this guy was big.
He closed the phone without further conversation and sent her another of those lethal glares. “The King says you can come in.”
Deep breath. Be calm.
She paused, one hand on the door.
No.
Not calm.
She squeezed her eyes shut, summoned the necessary attitude, then gave the doorknob a twist. She stamped inside and searched the living room for the man she’d come to see.
Where the hell was he?
“I thought we were done talking, Doc.”
She turned in time to watch him descend the stairs.
He took the final step. “Maybe you didn’t get the message the first or the second time.” He stared straight into her eyes with his bottomless dark pits. “Do I need to send it again?”
The blood on the bedroom wall . . . on the sheets .
. . the bruises on poor Celeste’s slim body floated in front of her eyes.
“I got the message, Tyrone.” She reached for all the anger, all the fury she could muster.
This son of a bitch might have killed her sister and Celeste.
He’d killed others . . . mistreated all within his realm of power.
She hated him.
Wished that the knife she’d wielded all those years ago had hit its mark—his no-good throat instead of his face.
“I have an offer for you.” Fear tried to usurp her bravado. She tamped it back. “One I don’t think you’ll be able to refuse.”
He reared his head back and laughed. “You stupid bitch.” He shook his head. “What the hell you think you got that I’d be interested in?”
Contempt so strong that she could scarcely speak coursed through her. She thought of what Juanita and Carter had done to Shelley. They would pay too. But first Tyrone would get his. “That makes it easier, doesn’t it?”
His own contempt for her flared in those evil eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You couldn’t have me then, you know damned well you can’t now. So you pretend you don’t want me. Makes it easier.”
He rushed into her personal space. “You listen to me, CJ Patterson.” He put his nose tip to tip with hers. “I will cut that sharp tongue outta your mouth if you keep getting in my shit. They like doctors who can’t talk up there in Baltimore?”
Fear thumped against her chest walls. Don’t let him see it! Stay strong. Pissed off! This bastard abused and murdered women! “I guess you don’t want to know what I have to offer.”
He drew back just far enough to look her up and down. “Speak. Fast. You smellin’ up my house.”
Here goes. “I will gladly bury my sister and go back to Baltimore. On one condition.”
He snickered. “Ho, you ain’t got no leverage here. Don’t be telling me you got one condition. I don’t give one damn what you got.”
“You tell me,” she pressed on, “who killed my sister. And I’ll give you what my sister made for you.”
Those evil eyes narrowed. “What the hell you talking ’bout?”
“You had a deal with Shelley. There was something you wanted her to make for you.”
Anticipation flickered in his eyes, but he held it at bay, kept the suspicion firmly rooted. “You gonna have to be more specific before this goes any further.”
“It’s like a movie,” she offered. “You know, a videotape.”
He shook his head. “Uh-uh. You ain’t got no shit like that.”
“I found the video equipment in the attic,” she argued. “The tape was missing from the VCR, but there were lots of boxes up there. I just started looking, and what do you know. My worst nightmares all on one vile tape.”
Still suspicious, he ventured, “What kind of nightmares?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.
” She lifted her chin and called upon every ounce of fury she could dredge up.
“Suffice it to say that Braddock is going down for this. He will not get away with what he did to my sister. He used her.” She leaned toward Tyrone.
“That bastard did things to her . . .” She shuddered.
“There were other girls too. It’s sick. He’s just like all the other cops around here.
And I’m going to see that he goes to jail. ”
“No. No. No, chickee.” Tyrone held his hands palms out and waved them back and forth.
“You don’t want to do that. You know they’ll just cover that shit up.
You let me take care of Braddock.” He pushed back his shoulders and puffed out his chest. “Why you think I had Shelley working on him? I knew what he was; I just needed evidence.”
“I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “I want him to go to jail. What could you do with the tape?”
Tyrone smirked. “I could make him pay in ways you can’t even imagine.”
“Whatever.” Anticipation had her nerves jangling. “You tell me who killed my sister and we’ll make a trade. I give you the tape and then you can do whatever you want to Braddock.”
“Doesn’t work that way.” He walked over to the coffee table, got a cigarette from the pack lying there, and lit it. “You show me a preview of what you got, I’ll give you the name. No negotiations.” He blew out a plume of nasty smoke.
Don’t let him see any hesitation. Counter him! Think! “Fine. But I have to warn you, those girls spent a lot of time talking about you while they were doing Braddock.”
His eyes narrowed again as he moved back to where she stood. “What kind of talk?”
CJ shrugged. “Oh, nothing that would interest anyone but the police.”
He shoved his face in hers. “What damned kind of talk?”
“The names of people you’ve had murdered. The reasons you had them murdered.” What else? What else? “Dates, locations. You know, stuff like that.”
He searched her eyes, looking for the lie. Didn’t say a word.
“So, do we have a deal or what?”
“How ’bout you show me the tape right now?” He reached for her.
She stepped back. Shit! “Do you think I’m stupid? I didn’t bring the tape with me. I pick the place where the trade goes down.”
He still wasn’t completely convinced. “As long as it’s neutral territory.”
Relief burned in her chest. “Fine.” She moistened her lips, needed water badly. Her throat was utterly parched and full of coal dust. “How about—”
“I pick the time,” he countered.
“All right, all right. My house.”
He made that annoying sound that indicated a wrong answer on game shows. “Neutral territory. That ain’t neutral.”
Well, she’d tried. “The village clinic, then. It won’t be open again until Wednesday, but I have a key.
” Not exactly the truth, since she hadn’t anticipated needing the damned thing since she wouldn’t help Juanita or Carter again if her life depended upon it.
But, for this, she would get the key back, no matter that it meant interacting with Juanita and lying about her intentions.
Then again, she hadn’t been helping them. She’d been helping herself and the people of this village.
“Tomorrow morning, ten sharp,” he told her. “After all them Jesus-loving folks get out of their houses and off to the church of their choice.”
Would that give her time to pull together a plan?
She had to talk to Braddock first. Damn!
Say something! “Okay, but . . . you . . . you bring proof,” she said, only just thinking of that.
“Otherwise you could toss out some random name. I want proof that the person you say killed her actually did it.”
He laughed. “You learning, Doc. You always got to hedge your bets.” All signs of amusement vanished, and he pointed a deadly glare at her. “But you better not be messing with me.”
She started to go but hesitated. “What if it’s you?”
He made a face like he didn’t understand what she meant.
“What if you’re the one who killed her?”
Tension thickened in the room. He didn’t move. Didn’t toss out one of those witty remarks right away.
“Then you better call your preacher, Doc.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you dead, baby.” Their gazes locked. “I’d have to kill you then.”
The door opened, breaking the stare-off.
The goon from the porch stuck his head inside. “You got company, Ty.”
“What the hell,” Tyrone muttered. “Grand damned Central Station ’round here.”
CJ pushed past the goon. She was out of here. She came to an abrupt halt at the steps.
Braddock and Cooper did the same on the sidewalk.
“CJ.” Braddock’s face was pinched in frustration. “What’re you doing?”
Cooper looked from CJ to Braddock and back, obviously confused as well.
The goon moved up behind her. “The King said he ain’t taking no more visitors.”
CJ, taking advantage of the interruption, stamped down the steps and right past Braddock.
“CJ.” He came after her.
She wheeled on him. “Stay away from me.” She held up her hands when that didn’t slow him. “Just stay away.”
Don’t look back. Just move. She hurried to her car, got inside, and drove away.
Jenkins followed her.
She didn’t breathe again until she’d reached her house.
Pressing her forehead against the steering wheel, she fought to catch her breath. She’d done it. Propositioned Tyrone and managed to make her fury at Braddock look real.
Right in front of Tyrone.
Was that luck or what?
But why had Braddock arrived? Had he been looking for her?
What was he thinking? Jenkins had probably called him.
But he would have had to be close by to get there so quickly.
She dug the cell phone from her jeans pocket.
Three missed calls from him. She’d been so caught up in the confrontation with Tyrone she hadn’t realized her cell had vibrated.
Just as well. She had accomplished her mission.
Now she needed a shower. She pulled the damp T-shirt from her chest. Tyrone was right. She smelled.
After a quick cool rinse of her body, CJ felt human again. She wiggled into a pair of Shelley’s jeans and pulled on a blouse. Unfortunately, she’d ruined the nice outfit Edward had bought her. It would never come clean.
She frowned when, even after tugging at the blouse, it didn’t cover her stomach. “You had that whole I’m-hot-look-at-me thing going on, didn’t you, sis?”
CJ pulled the blouse away from her skin and sniffed it. Her sister’s signature perfume lingered in the fabric. God, she missed her.