Downfall

by Terri Blackstock

  April smiled. “Nothing. Are you okay after this morning?”

  Lance glanced at Tyson as he opened his milk carton. “Yeah, fine.” He hoped his brevity would be a signal to April that he didn’t want to talk about it in front of Tyson.

  Tyson seized the moment. “What happened this morning?”

  “Nothing,” Lance said before April could answer. He racked his brain for a change of subject. “So . . . how are things with your parents?”

  April’s parents had been fighting and threatening divorce for weeks now, and it was an ongoing source of tension in her life. “Bad. Getting worse every day. They’re sleeping in separate rooms, won’t speak to each other.”

  “That’s better than fighting,” Tyson said flippantly.

  “Actually, it isn’t,” April said. “I can’t stand the silence.”

  “I love it when my folks aren’t speaking,” Tyson said. “It’s bliss.”

  Lance couldn’t imagine why Tyson was here, sitting with April. She wasn’t anything like his friends.

  “So . . . you want to hang out tonight?” she asked Lance.

  He smiled. “Maybe. Can you get the car?”

  Her smile faded, and she looked down at her French fries. “I don’t know. It depends on my mom’s mood. I doubt it.”

  He shrugged and bit into his roll, the only thing edible on his plate. “I doubt I can get my mom’s. After this morning, she and my sister are having to share. I’ll have to see what’s going on.”

  “What happened this morning?” Tyson said again.

  This time, April blurted it out. “Somebody put a bomb under his sister’s car today.”

  Lance had told her to keep it quiet, but April could never keep a secret. “April, come on. I didn’t want that broadcast.”

  “It was a secret?” she asked.

  “Yes! I told you not to tell.”

  She winced. “I’m sorry, I forgot. I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Now he had Tyson’s attention. “A bomb? What happened, man?”

  “Nothing,” Lance said. “Just a little fire, that’s all.”

  “She said a bomb. Somebody actually put a bomb there? What kind of bomb?”

  “I don’t know,” Lance bit out. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Your sister,” Tyson said. “She’s the girl who was with that interventionist woman, right?”

  Lance stopped chewing.

  “Dude,” Tyson said with a chuckle. “Sounds like that party girl’s been hanging with some rough dudes again.”

  “Don’t talk about my sister.”

  Tyson threw up his hands. “Hey, I just know how things work.”

  “She’s fine,” Lance said. “End of story.”

  “Sorry, dude. Didn’t mean to offend.”

  “Let’s change the subject,” April said to Tyson. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  Lance didn’t look at her.

  “Hey, listen,” Tyson said. “I have a car. I can pick you up tonight and we can hang out.”

  Lance glanced up. He didn’t like the way April’s face lit up.

  “Okay,” she said. “You in, Lance?”

  No way was Lance going anywhere with a drug dealer. “No. I probably won’t go.”

  April didn’t follow his lead. “Well, I’ll go with you, Tyson. Pick me up at 6:30.”

  Tyson leaned in, flirtatiously close. “Okay. I’ve been trying to get you alone for weeks anyway.”

  April blushed, and alarms clanged in Lance’s head. He couldn’t leave her to fend for herself with this jerk. “Changed my mind,” he said. “I’m going. Pick me up, too?”

  Tyson didn’t seem put off. “Sure, Lance.” He shoved him a napkin. “Give me your address and I’ll be there. Your phone number, too, in case something comes up.”

  Lance knew what would come up. Tyson would “forget” him so he could be alone with April. But maybe April would insist. He wrote down his address and number.

  “Text me if you have any more emergencies,” Tyson said, jotting his number on another napkin. He winked at April. “See you tonight.”

  “No, I’ll see you in chemistry.”

  “No way. I’ve had enough school today. I’m outa here.”

  Lance watched Tyson strut away, wondering why the school didn’t expel him. He shot April a look. “What are you doing?”

  She looked oblivious. “What? I didn’t want to be rude.”

  “That guy is bad news. He’s a dealer.”

  “Just because he’s been to jail doesn’t mean he deals. People can change.”

  “But he hasn’t changed. He’s high half the time in class, and he’s selling to half the kids here. Ask anybody.”

  “That’s just gossip. I don’t go by gossip. If I did, I wouldn’t hang out with you.”

  Lance felt his ears burning, and he looked back down at his food.

  “Why did you say you’d go if you don’t trust him?” she asked.

  “Because I don’t want you alone with him.” There. He’d said it. “He’s dangerous. You can’t trust him. And if he’s high when he picks us up, neither of us are going.”

  “You don’t have to be a hero, Lance. I can handle myself.”

  “I’m still coming,” he said.

  “Good. But don’t pick a fight with him. I don’t want trouble.”

  Lance brooded as he swallowed the last of his roll, then choked down a suspicious-looking hamburger patty. He watched Tyson stop at each table. Some of the cliques treated him like a rock star instead of a criminal.

  But Lance had known way too many people like him. Someone had to protect April.

  Chapter 15

  So far, the leadership of Three Roads Baptist Church seemed to like the ideas Barbara and the architects had for the sanctuary their congregation had voted to build. Paul and Martin Nelson, the brothers who owned the architectural firm, were pros at presenting plans, and they always left Barbara awestruck and inspired. It was a tough act to follow, but she’d learned long ago that it was the dressing on those plans that closed the sale. And that was her job.

  The church leaders had been properly fed and seemed entertained as they listened to Paul and Martin’s proposals. Barbara prayed silently that, in spite of what had happened with Emily’s car that morning, she could focus on her part of the presentation.

  She took her cue and went to the front of the conference room. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, now that you’ve seen the plan, you might be wondering about the finer points. So I’ve done some renderings here to show you what we’re thinking. I have to tell you that designing a beautiful, glorious sanctuary like this, one that honors God and aids in worship, is the highlight of my career.”

  She pulled out the design board with all the fabrics, carpet samples, paint swatches, and furnishings, right down to the stained glass windows she hoped to commission for them. As she went through the renderings of what their church would look like, she gauged their reactions. They seemed captivated.

  When the presentation was over, Barbara stayed to answer questions and allow the clients to touch the fabrics and offer input about the colors. By the time they left, she felt pretty sure that her firm would get this account. Paul attended the church, so he had inside knowledge of their needs. The other architects bidding on the job didn’t have that edge.

  “Great job, Barbara,” Martin said as they gathered up their things. “You answered their questions beautifully. I liked how you emphasized that they would have plenty of input in choosing the interiors. I think we’ve got it in the bag.”

  “I hope so. Sorry again that I wasn’t here for the meeting this morning, but it all worked out.”

  “Yeah. Hope everything is all right with Emily’s car.”

  Now she hurried back to her office to see if she’d gotten a call from the police or her daughter. She had left her cell phone in her purse at her desk. A quick check revealed that Emily had called. She hadn�
��t left a message.

  Barbara picked up the phone and called her back. It rang three times before Emily answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Emily, I’m out of the presentation. Have you heard anything from the police?”

  “No, not yet.” Emily sounded distant, distracted.

  “How did your test go?”

  There was a long pause. “Um . . . I didn’t take it yet.”

  “Why not? I thought it was at noon.”

  “I asked him if I could take it later. I was a little distracted by all this.”

  “And he said yes?”

  Emily hesitated again. “I haven’t heard back from him yet.”

  Barbara sank into her chair. “Honey, you just didn’t show up? What if he doesn’t give you another chance?”

  “He will. He has to.”

  Barbara closed her eyes. “Look, I was distracted, too, but I did what I had to do. Emily, this is important!”

  “I know, Mom!” she said. “Don’t you think I know that?”

  Emily was getting emotional. Barbara decided to back off. “Okay, just . . . call him again if you don’t hear from him. Meanwhile, I’m going to call the insurance company and place a claim. Do you have the police report?”

  Again, a hesitation. “Yes, but I can’t bring it to you right now.”

  “Is there somewhere you could fax it to me?”

  “No. I’m kind of tied up right now.”

  Barbara sighed. “Emily, I’m going to need that. Hopefully, they’ll pay for a rental car so we won’t have to keep sharing a car.”

  “I’ll bring it when I can, Mom.”

  She sighed. “All right. Can you text me the number on the police report?”

  “What number?”

  “There’s an incident number. It’s probably at the top somewhere. Can you look?”

  “Not right now. It’s in my backpack, and I can’t get to it. Mom, I have to go. I’ll text it when I can.”

  “Hurry. I have to contact the insurance company.”

  “Okay, as soon as I can. ’Bye.”

  Emily hung up, and Barbara sat holding her cell phone, fighting the frustration rippling through her. Those old fears rose up in her again. Emily had sounded evasive, as she always had during her drug days.

  But things had changed. This was not the old, drug-dazed Emily. She was different now. She just had a lot on her mind, she told herself, and she probably had a class to get to. Barbara clicked her phone off and put it back in her purse. She would just have to wait for that text.

  Chapter 16

  Emily hated withholding the truth from her mother, but she knew what would happen if she spilled out the whole truth over the phone. It would scare her mom to death, and she would tell Emily to stop and let the police handle it.

  But a woman’s life was at stake. Emily didn’t want her to die, and the police might not do anything until a crime had been committed.

  Her mother’s car had a GPS system, so when Emily got to Birmingham, she pulled over and typed Carter’s address in. She didn’t know what she would do when she got there. What if Carter was home? What if Cassandra wasn’t?

  What if she was already dead?

  Emily followed the GPS voice to the area where Carter lived. It wasn’t as nice as where Emily’s family lived. Carter’s drug abuse had exiled him to an old run-down neighborhood, where there were as many boarded-up, condemned homes as there were houses that were occupied. She drove down Carter’s street, looking for number 9340 on the rusted mailboxes. When she found it, there was no car in the open carport.

  Maybe they only had one, and Carter was at his welding job.

  She knocked on the door hard enough to shake the whole structure. As she waited, she rehearsed what she would say. Cassandra, I’m so glad I found you. A woman is dead. You’ve got to get out of here. Your husband is going to have you murdered next.

  No, she couldn’t say it like that. She’d have to give her more details to convince her to leave. She knocked again, listened, and heard nothing.

  What now? Turning around, she looked up the street. Finally, she lowered to the front-porch steps. She could wait right here until Cassandra came home.

  She’d sat there for a while when she noticed the neighbor next door peering out through her blinds. Emily lifted her hand in a wave. Eventually, the woman came out of her house and crossed the weed-spotted lawn. “Can I help you, hon?”

  Emily got to her feet, swept her long hair behind her ear. “Ma’am, is this the Price house?”

  The woman offered her a toothless smile. “Sho’ is. Who you lookin’ for, baby?”

  “Cassandra. Have you seen her today?”

  “Yeah, she just left while ago.”

  Relief warmed through her. She was alive.

  “Had laundry baskets. Pro’ly went down to the laundrymat.”

  “Do you know which one she uses?”

  “Fold N Fluff. Go down two stop signs, take a right, and it’s up there on the right. I ain’t swearin’ she’s there now, but she might be. She worked at the hospital the last three days, so she’s pro’ly off today. Won’t be rushin’ home to work her shift.”

  Maybe she could catch Cassandra at the Laundromat and talk her out of returning home. “What about Carter? Is he at work?”

  “S’pose to be, but you never know where that no-good scoundrel is. Pro’ly out smokin’ crack somewhere.”

  That was what Emily feared, and it was the key to this whole thing. Relapse, insanity, violence . . .

  She only hoped her being here was enough to stop the madness.

  Chapter 17

  Kent Harlan sat at his desk, studying the pictures he’d taken this morning of Devon Lawrence. There was something not quite right about the robbery that appeared to have cost the young mother her life.

  “So what’s hanging you up?” his partner Andy asked him.

  “That flat-screen TV was left,” Kent said. “I just don’t get it. They took a couple of random things that weren’t all that valuable — the jewelry she was wearing, even though the diamond in the engagement ring was small . . . the cash in her purse, which couldn’t have been that much. Why wouldn’t they have taken the TV or the computer?”

  “Well, they may have been on foot, for one thing. Probably just escaped with what they could carry.”

  “So did he go there to kill her, or to rob her?” He studied the pictures again.

  “Maybe he figured she wouldn’t be there. When he found her home, he killed her.”

  “But her car was outside. The house didn’t look empty. No, it looks premeditated. Somebody came in to find her. They made it look like a robbery. But they definitely knew she was there. And that sweet TV sitting on a cabinet. It’s still sitting there. Just right for the games on Sunday.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  Kent rubbed the lines between his eyebrows. “I don’t know. The husband wouldn’t want anything happening to his favorite toy. If he had something to do with it, he might have set it up to look like a robbery, but they only took things he didn’t care about.”

  “He was at work. We have proof.”

  “Still could have had someone do it for him.”

  “He works at a convenience store. I doubt he makes enough to hire somebody to kill his wife.”

  “He has a bad drug history. Wife called the police on him a few months ago. He might have some resentments. Maybe somebody owed him money and did him a favor.”

  “Yeah, but there’s no evidence he was dealing.”

  Kent felt the phone on his hip vibrating. He took it out of the pouch on his belt, saw that Emily had called while he was interviewing a witness. He decided to call her back on his landline, so he punched in her number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Emily. I saw that you called a while ago. I’ve been working a case. Is everything all right?”

  He heard the strain in her voice. “Not really. Did you get my message?”

&
nbsp; “Not yet. What is it?”

  “I heard something today that connected some dots. Kent, have you heard about a murder in Atlanta this morning? A girl named Devon Lawrence?”

  Kent sat up straighter. “That’s the case I’m working. Do you know her?”

  “I’ve met her, when she came to visit her husband at Haven House.”

  Of course, Kent thought. He hadn’t even asked Bo what rehab he’d been in, but it was the common choice of most of the judges in the area, since it was state-supported.

  “Kent, I think the person who killed her might be the same one who put the bomb under my car. Or if it wasn’t him, he’s connected to him.”

  “What? How do you know?”

  “Because a few months ago I heard him and another guy, Carter Price, talking about killing each other’s wives.”

  Kent came out of his chair and motioned for Andy to pick up on the extension. It clicked as Andy got on. “Go ahead, I’m listening. Andy’s listening, too.”

  “Sure, okay.” Emily spilled out the story in a flood of detail. Kent took notes as fast as he could.

  “Kent, you’ve got to do something about Cassandra Price. And check out where Carter was yesterday. I’m betting that either he or Bo planted the bomb, since I’m the only one who could connect them to the murders.”

  Kent rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “Did anyone else hear this conversation?”

  “They may have, but I don’t think so. There were people in and out. By the end of the movie, only Bo and Carter were left. I was the only one in the room when they said it. I’m the one they would be worried about. I would have told someone sooner, but I was sure they were joking around. I didn’t even give it another thought until this morning.”

  “And you called the Birmingham police?”

  “Yes, but this story sounds stupid. Some detective woman — Detective Stone — listened, but I doubt she took it seriously. If you could call her and let her know that this is serious, she might do something. I’m in Birmingham right now. I think Cassandra’s still alive, but I’m trying to catch up to her and tell her what’s going on.”