We make it back to the fence line and he stumbles. I catch him and hoist his hulking frame the best I can. “That’s it, roomy. Hand me your cell, I’m calling this in.”
“No way, you do that and you’re deader than me.” I look around at the neighborhood. “Ok, I have an idea.” I steer Ronnie to the nearest house and help him sit down on the front stoop. I bang on the door as hard and loudly as I can. “Help! Help! Someone’s been shot!”
The porch light goes on and a voice comes through the door, “Who the hell is out there?”
“Please. My friend is shot.”
“I aint opening the door. Get the hell out of here!”
“Please, we need some help!”
“I’m calling the cops!”
I look down at Ronnie and see he is suddenly taking a turn for the worse, “Yes! Call the cops!”
I can hear the man through the door “Hello? 911?”
I lean down to Ronnie and grab his face in my hands. “Ok Ronnie. Help is on the way. An ambulance will be here any second.”
“You aint gotta babysit me.”
“Always the tough guy hey? I’m sorry but when the ambulance shows up, so will the cops. I just can’t let them find me. Not yet.”
“Here, take this.” Ronnie lifts up his pant leg and pulls a gun from his sock. A small snub nosed revolver.
“What the hell, Ronnie? Why didn’t you tell me you were holding this whole time?”
“Yeah like I was gonna tell a cop I’ve got a piece in my sock.”
“And you didn’t shoot back at those guys…”
“Naw, they was just kids. I know two of them.”
“But they shot you!”
“Don’t you worry. They are going to get theirs. This won’t go undealt with.”
“Ronnie you can’t be shooting up a couple kids.”
“Look Sarge, you do what you do and let me do what I do. Just cuz I helped you doesn’t mean I’m a saint all the sudden. You got a job to do and so do I. My job is to run this street and your job is to stop me. If I stop doing my job you won’t have one no more.”
“Smartass.”
“It’s how we do.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Now take that gat and go do what YOU gotta do.”
Reluctantly I tuck the gun in my waistband. I can hear the sirens approaching and I know I have to get out of here before the cavalry shows. “I won’t forget this Ronnie.”
“You better not.”
I know it’s not a badass thing to do but I kiss him on the forehead and then I turn and quickly make my way up the block and into the night.
Chapter One Hundred Thirteen
I make it to Shorty’s house in less than twenty minutes. I bang on the door and pray he’s there. Sure enough, Shorty answers the door in his boxers and his gun in his hand. “What the fuck you doing here?”
“Good to see you too, Shorty. I need a phone charger.”
“You look like shit, Sarge. “What happened to you?”
“It’s a long story. You gonna let me in or what?”
“My granny will have a fit if she sees you.”
“Well then quit yammerin before you wake her up and let me in!”
An elderly voice calls from somewhere deep inside the house, “Marquis! Who’s at the door?”
Shorty yells over his shoulder, “No one granny. It’s just the tv. Go back to bed.”
I give him one raised eyebrow. “Let me in Shorty or I’m going to make sure dear old granny knows there’s a girl at the door!”
Shorty holds the screen door for me, “Shiiiit. You gonna get my ass in trouble. Get in here before she gets out of bed.” Shorty takes a quick glance around the darkened street before shutting the door behind me.
I go to the kitchen sink and wash the blood off my hands and arm. Shorty takes a good look at me for real. “Seriously, what happened to your skinny ass? Did he catch you?”
I run down the last few hours to Shorty, leaving out the part where Ronnie helped me escape. Shorty whistles. “Hoooooey girl! You in the shit now!”
“Shorty you have a real knack for stating the obvious. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Anyone ever told YOU, you have a propensity towards sarcasm?”
“Well, well, look at the big brains on you!”
Shorty makes a vulgar gesture in my direction.
I get Shorty to loan me some clothes. He owns no clothing besides basketball shorts and a hoodies but who am I to complain? I’m completely exhausted.
I think Shorty must feel sorry for me because he offers me his room to sleep for a bit. “Here Sarge, you’ll be safe here for a few hours but once granny is up you’ll have to lay low. She can’t hear shit but she’s nosy. Lock the door. She won’t trip. She knows I sleep all day.”
“Where are you going to sleep?”
“I’m gonna bounce to my girls spot.”
“Shorty, one last favor. I can’t turn on my phone or they will know where I’m at. You wouldn’t happen to have an extra lying around would you?”
Shorty laughs and opens a shoebox on the floor. “Shiiit, take your pick! Obama hooked a brotha UP!”
I roll my eyes and grab the first burner I see. “Thanks kid.”
Once Shorty leaves I lock the bedroom door behind him. I take the cell phone from its packaging and plug it in to charge. I take a grim look at the mattress with no sheets. The whole room reeks of weed. I flop down in exhaustion. Screw it. It can’t be any worse than then the basement full of roaches I slept in last night. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open but my mind wanders and wonders what is happening outside of these walls.
I’ve been missing for 24 hours and for certain the city is going apeshit over my disappearance. I can’t risk being seen in the daylight so the only thing I can do right now is sleep. I have to think about what my next move is and who I can trust.
My last waking thoughts consist of my friends and the people I love the most.
Chapter One Hundred Fourteen
“Three Adam Three, be enroute to shots fired at 417 south 47th.” Camden picked up the radio mic and responded, “3A3, we copy, enroute.”
Camden glanced over at Lizzie in the passenger seat and noticed how tired she seemed. Everyone has been working around the clock since Shaw went missing. They were working two man units though so that made it easier to stay awake.
Lizzie caught him staring, “Are you going to drive or what?”
Camden pressed the gas petal to the floor. “Cranky pants.”
Lizzie reached over to the center console and flipped on the overhead emergency lights. “Sorry I’m just tired.”
“I know you’re tired. I am too.” Camden brought their patrol around the corner on two wheels. “Can you hand me my coffee real quick?”
Lizzie handed Camden his Starbucks, which had turned cold hours ago and watched as he guzzled what was left before tossing the empty cup out of his open window. Lizzie looked back and watched through a swath of red and blue lights as the empty plastic cup bounced along the street. She started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You just littered! I’m soooo going to arrest you after this call.”
Camden began to laugh too, “Oh really? You’re going to show up at a shooting, kick some casings into the gutter and then turn around and arrest me for littering?
Lizzie snorted mid laugh. “I totally am!”
“Who’s going to drive you back to the station?”
Lizzie turned on her spotlight and shone it on the roadway as they sped along. “Who’s gonna drive you hooooome…tonight!”
Camden reached over and punctuated Lizzies singing with a whoop of the siren. Camden slows to take the last turn and they slide to a stop in front of the address they’ve been sent to.
Lizzie shone her spot light on the house in question and seeing a black male slumped on the front stoop, she jumped out.
Camden pushed past her and arriv
ed to the porch first.
“Hey man who shot you?”
“I don’t know.”
Camden keyd his mic. “3A3, we have one down, multiple gsw, he’s awake and alert. Route us medical code three.”
Lizzie went to the door and knocked loudly. “Police department!”
An elderly man opened the door carefully and peeked out.
“Sir, I’m officer Noble with the Roland Police Department. You called us about a shooting?”
The caller opened the door wider. “I didn’t see anything. I heard some shots. And then some lady just started banging on my door and yelling so I called 911 instead of opening it. I was scared. For all I knew I was about to get shot musself!
Camden asked the man on the porch “Who were you with?”
“No one. The old man is hearing things. I was just walking along and a car drives by and bam!”
“I know you, Ronnie. You aren’t supposed to be in this neighborhood. What gives?”
“Nothing man. I was just out for a stroll.”
“Ugh huh”
An ambulance arrived within minutes and the back door to the rig swung open. Taking his large, red, medical bag and slinging it over his shoulder Homer smiled huge. “Well what have we here?”
Homer bent down and examined Ronnie’s wounds. “Ok friend, it looks like you need a little ride to the hospital. Can you walk?”
“Yeah man, I can walk” Ronnie pushed Homers hands away from him.
Homer helped his new friend to the back of the rig and assisted him with the step up. He needed to check Ronnie over real quick before he took him off to the hospital.
Lizzie was busy getting a more in-depth statement form the home owner who suddenly decided he is going to dramatize the whole thing. She tiredly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, the earlier silliness replaced with exhaustion.
Homer hopped back out of the rig and grabbed Camden by the arm, “Hey Camden, just a heads up. This guys wearing a vest.”
Camden went to the back of the rig and took a look at the vest Ronnie had been wearing. He gave it a once over and something caught his eye. What the fuck?
“Homer, be a pal, wait outside.” Camden climbed into the back of the rig with Ronnie and shut the door.
From her spot on the front porch, Lizzie watched Camden disappear into the rig. She worried about what he might be doing in there. Pushing her worry aside she struck up a conversation with Homer. They talk about nothing important and the longer Camden remained inside the rig, the more Lizzies curiosity grew.
Lizzie decided she needed to check on Camden and as she reached for the ambulance door Camden exited. He carried a vest in his hand and he didn’t look tired any longer. In fact, he looked pale and furious at the same time.
Camden pushed past her and made his way to their patrol car. He opened the trunk and threw the vest inside.
Lizzie watched the ambulance drive away and turned to Camden. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, get in the car”
Lizzie got into the car and Camden took his place behind the wheel. “The vest is Shaw’s.”
Suddenly Lizzie was wide awake as well. “What? We have to go back and talk to him further”
“No we don’t. He told me everything he knew already. Said he found her stuck in the greenhouse and he helped her get out. Apparently a couple of D-boys showed up before they could get out and she gave him her vest. He may have saved her life.”
“Well then were is she?”
“I don’t know. He said she just ran off into the night. Look, she had an opportunity to call for help and she chose not to. That means we need to give her some time. Something is wrong and it looks like she’s handling it on her own. All we can do is hope she decides to trust someone.”
Lizzie wasn’t sure she liked keeping quiet but she trusted Camden and Camden trusted Shaw.
Chapter One Hundred Fifteen
Day Three
Shorty was snoring away, drooling on his pillow when his phone struck his head. He awoke with a start and a string of monosyllabic curses.
“Dammit Shayla!”
His favorite baby-mama stood in the doorway with arms crossed and hip thrust out. “Get yo ass up and answer your damn phone.”
“You didn’t have to throw it at me. What’s the matter with you?”
“It’s been ringing for an hour and lord help you if you wake this baby. Why you always sleeping anyway? Your broke ass needs to be getting a job.”
Shorty got up from the warmth of Shayla’s bed and stonily faced her in the doorway. “Girl, your weaves too tight! Jump back.”
“I’m not kidding, Shorty. This is bullshit. You come and go as you please and now you’re sleeping your ass off. I suppose you thinking I’m gonna cook for your ass too aren’t you?”
“Are you done?”
“Hell no I’m not done…”
Shorty slammed the door in Shayla’s face just as an “..and another thing” escaped her lips. He would pay for this later but damn it was too early for all that nonsense. His phone rang in his hand. It was JDawg.
“Man, why you call me so early. You know I’m never up before four and you got Shayla all bent cuz the phone wont stop ringing. I swear man, you and this phone wake up my baby and you can deal with Shayla!”
“We have a problem. Shit’s going down, man.”
“Shit’s always going down. Be more specific.”
“Apparently last night while you were up in the house with your girl, there was a little scuffle between three of our young bucks and Ronnie Washington.”
“How little?”
“They shot him.”
“Damn it! What happened?”
“He was caught slippin. Wrong place, wrong time, man. He was drunk. They just meant to scare him and shit got out of hand.”
“Is he dead?”
“Nope. Cops got to him and he’s at the hospital.”
“So what’s the word on the street?”
“His boys are out hunting themselves a few young bucks.”
“Where are they?”
“I’ve got them here under strict instructions to go nowhere. But you know what’s coming next.”
“Yeah we gotta get them before they find one of us.”
“How you want me to play this?”
“Sit tight until I get there. I’m going to run by the crib and grab my stuff. Give me an hour and then we go handle some business.”
Shorty threw his cell on the bed. Damn. They’d managed to stay out of the shit for months but this was a price you pay for banging.
Chapter One Hundred Sixteen
When I awake its hot and muggy. How’d I get sand under my eyelids? I’m sweating and Shorty’s basketball shorts stick to me like fly tape. I need a shower. I need water. I need to pee.
I check the phone I plugged in only hours before and find it fully charged. I take a deep breath. This is so out of hand. I know I can’t finish this alone. There’s only one person to trust at this moment.
Years ago, during one particularly sleep deprived night shift, Camden and I had played ‘what if.’ What if you come around the corner and see a shooting going down in front of you? What if you pull over the mayor and he’s in a car with a hooker? What if you go down and you can’t speak? What if you need to get a message to me without using the radio? What if you’re in trouble and all you can do is text?
They had settled on a safe word. “Pineapple.” Being tired with nothing to do can lead to some interesting conversations. I just pray he remembers.
Chapter One Hundred Seventeen
I send the necessary texts and am relieved to obtain the required responses. Camden should be here soon.
I get up and open the door and peek down the hallway. The TV is blaring from Grandmas bedroom so I sneak across the hallway and softly open the bathroom door. I make use of the facilities. I wash my hands and splash cool water on her face. With wet hands I finger combs my short hair. I find a half full tu
be of toothpaste and squeezing some onto my index finger I give my hairy teeth a scrub. It’s been a long few days.
I finish making myself pretty and quietly sneak back out into the hallway. I’m two steps from the bedroom door when a voice stops me.
“Are you hungry young lady?”
I turn to find granny staring at me from over the top of her large glasses. I have no idea how to explain this and from the look of things, I’m not expected to. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Then bring your pretty behind to the table.” Granny disappears into the kitchen and I make my way towards the smells of heaven.
Granny waves a dishtowel in my direction. “Sit down.”
“Yes ma’am.” I take a seat at the 1950’s era Formica kitchen table and glance around at the spotless kitchen. As nasty as Shorty’s bedroom in, the kitchen is the exact opposite. I instantly feel myself relax a little. There is just something about a clean kitchen, the smell of home cooking and a fat granny at the stove that makes me feel like a child. Even if she isn’t MY granny.
Granny is busying herself at the stove, creating magic. She speaks to me over her shoulder. “You know, Marquis’s mama was in and out of jail as a kid. She was always a handful. She was only sixteen when she brought that little boy home and I knew how he was going to end up. I’m not the only grandma raising my baby’s baby.
“He’s a fine young man.”
“No, he isn’t. He’s like his mama AND his daddy. One day when Marquis was nine, his mama went out and never came back. No matter how you raise them it’s in their blood. I do my best but he’s headstrong. He needs a firm hand but I’m too old to make any difference at this late date.”
I have no idea what to say but thankfully it doesn’t seem Granny requires it. She sets a plate down in front of me piled high with chicken, greens, beans and rice. My mouth instantly begins to water.
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