I dropped my head back and listened to the scrub of metal against metal, letting the gentle rocking soothe my troubled mind. Something wasn’t right. Prof—there was something wrong with him. He spoke calmly, but I’d swear he was anxious. It was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Thoughts tumbled about in my head. I wanted to kill my mentor for what he’d done. Fuck that, everyone involved in my mother’s death needed to die. Her gentle face floated before my eyes then vanished just as quickly. Killing them wouldn’t bring her back. I couldn’t kill all of them, but I needed to clear my name. Bruno. It was open season on that fat fuck when I found him. Becky, she—she was screwed in the head,, and there was no telling when, if ever, she would come back to herself. Gage, who knew where that asshole stood or just how deeply he was involved. That only left me and Prof to set shit straight, and I’d be damned if I was taking the fall for the bastard.
The garbled announcement of my stop tumbled from the overhead speakers. I stood as the train came to a stop. People crowded the exit. Someone was watching a news segment on their phone. I caught the tail end of the words.
Police are searching for key members of a white supremacy organization thought to be behind yesterday’s fire bombings during the Martin Luther King Parade. Names are currently being withheld, and a news conference is planned for this afternoon. Authorities have cited a person of interest in custody they have yet to name. The attack killed a local businesswoman…
The doors swished open, and I was ushered out with the crowd. Who the hell did the cops have in custody? I spoke to Prof and Becky. The only two people I wasn’t able to contact were Bruno and Gage. I was sure they had both already skipped town. Could one of them have been caught so quickly? I trudged my way up the familiar street. Nothing seemed out of place and still everything felt wrong. I couldn’t shake the unwavering feeling I was being watched. I stopped in front of the building that housed our headquarters. The place where Bruno slept. Was I walking into a trap? I rolled my shoulders and exhaled. Of course, I was; I wasn’t so foolish as to not see the path the Prof was leading me down. This set up—I would play it out to the fucking end. I trotted up the steps and into the building.
I didn’t knock. I twisted the knob, and the door opened effortlessly into the first floor apartment. Prof sat in a wingback chair by the window. The same seat I held during the jump in celebration a few days ago. God, but it felt more like years.
“You got here faster than I thought you would.” Prof twisted to face me but didn’t rise from his seat.
I didn’t care to make small talk. “Where is Bruno?” He made the Molotov cocktails. I had no doubt in my mind he was the one who tossed them. Even with the Prof in front of me, Bruno was the son of a bitch I wanted to get a hold of first. If the Prof couldn’t give me an answer, it didn’t look like I would have a choice. I snorted, plans to fit my situation were changing in my head. After I beat the shit out of Bruno I would drag his ass to the police. Killing him wouldn’t work when I needed the bastard to clear my name. But the Prof? Maybe I wouldn’t need Bruno. The Prof could explain his fucked up ideas to the police, which gave me the freedom to simply kill the Jersey boy. So many ways for things to go. The shitty organization was rotten, and my mother deserves justice. Even me, I wasn’t negligent in this bullshit. Every one of us needed to pay a price. I’d already lost so much, I just wasn’t sure exactly how much more I needed to pay.
“You would know better than me since you two planned this.”
I snapped my head up. This lying son of a bitch. I took a step forward, my hands closing into fists.
Be calm, Dachs. Answers first.
I could hear Harper’s voice in my head. “Becky pulled the permits. I organized the event. Made sure we had our uniforms, water and milk. Flags for the march. But you—you gave Bruno a special project. I should have pushed harder to find out what that was.” I pressed my lips together to keep from lashing out.
“Stop trying to place the blame on everybody but yourself. You murdered your mother.” Prof scooted to the edge of the chair. “It’s okay, Dachs. I’ll get the best lawyers for you and the brothers who helped you. Your dedication to the cause is admirable.”
“You will not pin this on me.” I ground out between clenched teeth. “Your actions killed my mother!” I inched closer, balling up my fists tighter as I moved. “Me…Becky…we had nothing to do with your grandiose plans to make America white again.” A bark of laughter escaped me as I realized the irony of it all. Actually, we did, I just never anticipated murder. “You wanted to destroy a few blacks, and instead, killed a lone white woman—my fucking mother, you rank bastard!” It was harder to control my emotions than I thought.
“Just admit your mistake, and we can work everything else out.” Prof leaned forward. Silence settled in around us.
It would only take a couple of steps to close the gap between us. I stopped. “I am not the one who did this. I neither planned nor executed your fucked up plot. I would have stopped it.” My words ended in a whisper. Then louder, “You know that. I believed in separating the races, not killing them.” I shook my head and realization dawned on me like a lightning strike. The person of interest was Prof. But if he was the one…shouldn’t he be in jail? He was trying to offset the blame on me and the others. This putrid asshole was going to accept his responsibility.
I lunged for him, catching him by the shirt and hefting him up on his toes. He didn’t fight back. “You motherfucker. You’re wired.” I plowed a fist into his jaw. He stumbled back into the wall. My grip loosened, and I tried to keep my balance, shifting forward to close the space that sprung between us. I yanked him up and punched him in the belly. Red splotches blossomed on his face. He clutched my wrists, holding on to them as our movements formed a macabre dance. The feeling of wrongness amplified. I shuffled back, jerking my arms to break free.
Doors busted open. Cops in riot gear flowed through the open doorways converging on us. Prof looked up at me, and a sly smile lifted the corners of his mouth. In that moment, everything made sense. The way he separated the groups, keeping everyone in the dark. His refusal to fight, the asshole had already spun lies and fed them to the authorities. It was my intention to keep this bullshit within our group. Maintain the honor the fucking liar had preached to us until we took his damn words as gospel.
Cops yanked me back; he was pulled from my clutches. The shrewd look in his eyes, how had I missed that? I was thrown to the floor, my arms wrenched behind me. My face shoved into the filthy rug, grime rubbing against my cheek. Particles of waste tickling my nostrils. The click of cuffs, another layer of noise that burst through the room. He’d organized everything right down to an escape plan and everyone would think it was me, but I wasn’t the snitch. The man that I’d looked up to like a father at one time—he was.
27
Dachs
I wasn’t a stranger to the booking process. Electronic fingerprinting, mugshot, other than an upgrade in technology everything remained the same, except for the DNA swab. That’s new, but then again it had been a while since I’d been arrested. Walking down the long corridor gave me time to think, until arraignment I’d be in a holding cell. At least until the damn detectives decided to have a chat with me. After booking, I should be able to make my phone call—to Harper. By the time everything played out, if she found me a lawyer, he should be at the station.
Metal scrapped as the clear door rolled to the side. I stepped over the threshold into the empty cell, benches built into the walls, everything washed in a pale green color. A steel toilet and sink tucked in the corner and open for all to see completed the space. I dropped down on a spot closest to the door and stretched my legs out. I held on to the hope that the Prof would accidentally be booked into the same holding cell. The squeak of the rollers moving the door drew my attention back to the room’s entrance. I rose, anticipation sharpening my senses. A plain clothes cop stepped through the doorway and met my stare. I held his gaze.
“I’m Detective Mitchell, want to talk?” Older, deep wrinkles etched his withered face. An almost white mustache covered his top lip and bushy salt and pepper brows were above his clear, knowledgeable blue eyes.
This cop was no fool. My hopes at meeting Prof again were dashed. “Sure, lets chat.” I shifted to the side and caught a glimpse of who had to be the old man’s black partner. The coldness of the black guy’s gaze wasn’t lost on me. Hate recognized hate. I felt his rage down to my soul, and I understood it. I knew exactly what he was feeling toward me, shit I was experiencing all these damn emotions about myself. The detective spun on his heel and left, and I followed. In the hallway two uniformed policemen were waiting to handcuff me.
Through the maze of passageways, down a flight of stairs, I was led to an interrogation room at the end of the dank hall. I peered through the doorway. A table was stuffed into the corner of the tiny room with two chairs on the free side of the furniture piece. There was just enough room for him and the other two men to fit—which meant they would probably tag me, good cop, bad cop. I snorted. It would be interesting to see who played which role.
The black man strolled into the room first and claimed a chair, settling into it. “Have a seat.”
So this was how it was going to play out. I glanced up at Mitchell; he was already moving away down the hall. The guards removed my cuffs and backed up, and I stepped into the Lion’s Den. The door closed with a quiet click. I checked the ceiling and corners. No tell-tell black globes. The interview was being recorded though; I would bet on it.
I sat, quietly waiting. My rage wasn’t directed at the cops. I had to be smart about how and what I did and said. I wouldn’t continue to be a pawn in some unknown game. We peered at each for long moments. I guess that was supposed to make me uncomfortable.
“You got something you want to get off your chest. Don’t you?”
His cajoling tone was annoying. “No, I did nothing wrong.”
“The victim. She was your mother, right? Not only did you commit an act of terrorism, but you killed the woman that birthed you.”
I crossed my arms and uncrossed them. I couldn’t let anger get the best of me. My wrong was following blindly behind a man I trusted. I waited until my rage subsided before I spoke. “My mother was murdered, but I had no hand in it.”
“We have witness testimony that you marched right along with your little group. The members we spoke with say you organized the march. Is everyone lying?” The cop cocked his head to the side.
Yeah, they probably were to protect the Prof. I sighed. Me and this guy weren’t going to get very far. “I had nothing to do with the bombing.”
“Want to know how many times I have heard that in my career?”
“Not really.” This was just another reason why I didn’t trust the legal system. Cops had formed an opinion before they ever knew the facts. All just because they didn’t like the person they thought was the criminal. Meanwhile, the fuckers that actually committed the crime are walking scot free.
“You think you’re a hardass?”
This bullshit was almost comical. I shifted in my seat, scooting down. “No.” If they couldn’t solve my problem, I would. I just needed the right time. “Where is the Prof?”
“Who?” The cop leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. “Oh, you mean one of your co-conspirators? He’s down the hall with my partner telling us all about you.”
“He’s a lying asshole, and you’re the dumbasses for buying into his shit.” I let my emotions get the best of me for a minute. “Make you no better than me for buying into his bullshit.” How long would this bs go on. If they sent us both to jail at least I would have a chance to get the bastard. Snitching on the people—my brothers—wouldn’t do anyone any good. Not when the real mastermind was walking around. First, I was set up and now it’s like the fucker is getting farther away from me.
“Tell me your story.” The policeman’s voice softened. He pressed his lips together forming a frown,, and kindness replaced anger so clear in his eyes only moments ago.
I wanted to burst out in laughter at the situation. It wasn’t two cops playing at good cop bad cop it’s one detective with a bi-polar disorder. “I trusted the wrong people. End of story.” We could go on like this forever. Was it beneficial for me to stay here in interrogation or shut it down by asking for a lawyer? Either way I was no longer sure I could get to the motherfuckers that killed my mom. I couldn’t afford to play with these assholes anymore. Prof wouldn’t stop at killing my mom. He would try to make an example of my dad as a warning to me. At least that is what I would do. No one was protecting my father. I couldn’t get to my old mentor right away now anyway. I would have to think of another way.
“I want a lawyer.” I quietly uttered the words. It was up to the authorities now. Indict me or let me go in twenty-four hours. Hopefully, Harper would take care of my request.
28
Harper
What was it about this man leaving me in the morning—twice in two days? I was going to put a stop to that. I read Dachs’ note again as I stood in front of my window, staring out onto the scene of the city below. Everything moved as it did most days. But today was different—I was different. I’d tried to reach him, of course, as soon as I’d gotten up a few hours ago. His side of the bed had still been warm with his heat. I’d even put off taking a shower because I wanted to carry his scent on me for as long as I could. But, I had to get up and take a shower. Too bad it was alone. I wondered when he’d call me? I hoped his dad was doing okay. I felt sure he was with him. I lost my mom when I was young, but I still remembered her and still missed her. I couldn’t imagine losing a mother the way Dachs had to such violence.
My thoughts were broken when my cell phone rang. I picked it up from the coffee table hoping it was Dachs. Instead, it was an unfamiliar number, but caller ID indicated it was from the city jail. Frowning, I answered it.
“Collect call from Dachs Neuman. Say or press 1 for yes, or say or press 2 for no.”
“Yes. Oh God. Yes.”
“Listen.”
“Dachs, what in the name of Jesus is going on?”
“Listen. I’ve been arrested.”
I glanced at the phone for a second. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Harper,” he uttered my name quietly. “I can’t call my dad, but I’m going to need a lawyer. I have money, so I can pay. I don’t want any damn public defender. Everything was…set up. I figured you’d know a good lawyer.”
“You’re damn right I do.”
“Okay, good.”
He told me where they were holding him, and I took down the information.
“Just send him down here, and I’ll take care of everything else here.”
“Okay, I’ll see you—”
“No. Stay out of this. I gotta go. Just send him, sweetheart. I’ll call you again as soon as I can.”
When Dachs hung up, I immediately called the lawyer in my contact list my father has on retainer and gave him the information Dachs gave me. He was the named partner in one of the best law firms in Boston, and they handled everything. If he couldn’t do this, he’d send one of his associates who did. I told him where to meet me. We were making another stop first. If Dachs thought I’d stay out of this Mr. Man had another think coming. But, he’d learn; I sat in the back for no one.
Next, I made another call. This one to my father’s golf buddy, who happened to be the Chief of Police; my dad was one of his biggest supporters. Then, I got dressed. Dachs might not want me there, but we meant something to each other, and after last night, I was going to be damned if I let him go through this alone—not when I knew I could help. I called an Uber.
When Dachs’ lawyer arrived, I’d just sat down with the Chief. I smiled when I saw who walked into the office. I’d met Donald at a few functions my father had hosted. He was also one of the partners in the firm and he was black. Of course, he and the Chief already knew ea
ch other. I chuckled to myself at the irony of him defending a white nationalist.
“Let me tell you a story, full disclosure, the story is about my boyfriend. I tell you that so you will understand the depth of what’s going on here. He is a white nationalist or was.” Was he my boyfriend? Well, he was now, and he better leave that other crap behind.
I explained to them both what I knew about Dachs. To say their eyes opened wide at those revelations would have been hysterical if it wasn’t so serious. I also told them what I suspected, he was being set up and who might really be behind the bomb that killed his mother. I gave them the names of two people on campus who could verify what I told them. “Professor Sharpe was not only in the forefront of that march but is a leader in that organization. He likes to brag and or recruit. He wasn’t as careful around campus as he thought he was. His leanings were well known on campus. He’s actively tried to recruit one of my white classmates and had actually recruited one of my classmate’s younger brothers. If anyone was behind the bombing and the death of Dachs’ mother, it was that fuckwit.”
Both men listened, then the Chief asked us to give him a minute while he made some phone calls. Donald and I stepped out of the room while he made the calls. I was so nervous. A jail, even if it was just the administrative office section of their headquarters, was not a place I’d ever thought I’d see the inside of. I took the opportunity to use the ladies room and when I got back the Chief was ready for us. By the frown on his face, I knew none of it would be good.
“First off, I’ve just spoken to both the detective who arrested Mr. Neuman as well as the FBI agent in charge.”
“The FBI? Why?” I asked shocked.
Donald answered, “domestic terrorism.”
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