by Nadirah Foxx
An elderly gentleman on the street, a retired CEO from a defunct company, was at home when burglars burst in through the front door. Although nobody was killed, the man suffered a heart attack from the stress. According to the paramedics, he’d survive. Naturally, the turn of events had me worried about my mother being alone.
“Mom, maybe I should stay here with you?” I suggested. It wasn’t ideal since I’d have to commute from Liberty Heights each day.
“Nonsense,” she told me. “Your presence won’t prevent crime.”
“Then, let me get somebody stationed at the house.” She began to protest, but I walked away from her car and headed to one of the officers.
A heavyset woman with red hair plaited into a single braid down her back turned toward me. “Can I help you?”
I checked her name tag. “Officer Stanley, I work with the LCPD. Is it possible to get someone from the Liberty Heights Police posted on my mother’s house? She’s an older woman living alone.”
The woman pushed the brim of her hat up and looked at me with a disinterested gaze. “Then perhaps you should have her live with you. Or maybe phone one of your buddies from Liberty City.”
She walked past me as if I hadn’t attempted to be polite. What the fuck was her problem? I bet Officer Stanley would be the first cop to fold if and when corruption hit the Liberty Heights department.
There was no way I would leave Mom at the house alone. At that moment, I wished my brother were there. Jeremy would have the perfect solution. Until I could figure something else out, I’d ask Josh to bring me one of my bags from the bunker. Maybe I’d check out a two-bedroom unit at the Liberty Towers. Jackie could find someone nice—maybe a family—to rent out Mom’s place.
“Kerrie Ann.” Mom came up beside me. “Josh is unpacking the van. As soon as he’s done, you should head home.”
“No. I’ll stay the night with you. In the morning, we’ll see about moving you out of this area.”
She scoffed. “Really? If Liberty Heights isn’t safe, then no place is.”
How did I tell her she was right?
“Besides, I’ve called my friend.” Mom held up her cell phone. “He’ll come over and stay the night.”
My forehead furrowed as I shook my head. “Friend? What friend is this?”
She smiled and winked. “Someone who keeps me company on long nights.”
Shit. My cheeks heated again. “You know what? I think I’ll just wait for Josh in the van.”
Talk about embarrassing.
Rather than sitting in the cab, trying to hide my face, I walked around to the back of the vehicle. What I needed was a bit of a distraction. Anything to keep from thinking about my mother with a man who wasn’t my father.
“Everything okay, Kerrie?” Josh asked.
“It will be once we get out of here,” I mumbled and rested my forearms on the edge of the van floor. “Did you know Mom had a boyfriend?”
He chuckled as he pulled RJ’s crib from the vehicle. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t go that far. They’re probably just friends. My mother saw the two of them at church one Sunday. Then, one weekend I bumped into the two of them at the Coffee Bar. He seemed like a nice man. Tall and fit for someone his age. I noticed he had a bit of an accent. He claimed to know your brother.”
“What does any of that have to do with Jeremy?”
“Supposedly, the man is from France. One of his daughters used to date your brother.”
My brother, the ladies’ man… But that didn’t explain how my best friend knew so much. Tilting my head to one side, I glanced up at Josh. “How in the hell do you know all of that?”
“I keep in touch with Jeremy. We speak two or three times a month.” My friend carried the crib into the garage.
Years ago, Josh took on the dubious role of being the best friend of siblings. With me, Josh could be himself. He didn’t have to chase tail or get hammered. Ours was a solid relationship. He hung out with my brother for something different.
As teens, Jeremy and Josh got into plenty of trouble together over those so-called manly pursuits—getting drunk and getting laid. Things I thought both of them had outgrown as they aged. Neither of them bothered to tell me they’d kept in touch.
I tugged the last box off the truck and walked into the garage. “This is it. If you want to drop me off at the house…”
Josh faced me with a scowl. “Nope. I either take you back to Sentinel or you go home with me.”
At some point, we were going to have to discuss the whole macho, I-can-protect-you attitude. Ryan never pulled that crap with me. I couldn’t let Josh get away with it. But that night I ignored it—a little.
“Am I allowed to pick up my car? You can trail me back to Sentinel.”
“That’ll work.”
“Let me say good night to Mom. Then we’ll leave.”
When I walked into the house, a well-dressed man with salt-and-pepper hair sat in the living room. He stood as I approached.
“You must be Kerrie Ann.” He extended his hand. “My name is Walter.”
“Nice to meet you.” I slipped my hand into his. Right away, I noticed the quality cuff link and the tattoo peeking out from his shirt sleeve.
He gave me a knowing smile. “A mistake of my youth.”
Mistake, my ass. What else was he hiding beneath the elegant exterior? He was a little too debonair for my mother. I wasn’t saying she wasn’t good enough for him. On the contrary, the man was too damn slick.
Thankfully, Mom came into the room and saved me from voicing my opinion in front of him. “I see you’ve met Walter.”
Forcing a smile, I said, “Yes. And I’m glad you won’t be alone tonight. Will you walk me out, Mom?”
Without waiting for an answer, I grabbed her elbow and tugged her toward the door. Stepping onto the porch, I said, “Mom, be careful with that man.”
“Really, Kerrie Ann? You’re judging him?”
It wasn’t the first time I’d been accused of being judgmental. Despite my wholesome, All-American looks, I wasn’t a pushover. I saw those things that others—like my mother—didn’t always see.
Sighing, I said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t get a good vibe about him.”
She folded her arms and gave me her patented don’t-you-dare look. “Listen to me, Kerrie Ann Walker King, I didn’t get a great vibe about Ryan. Did that stop you from seeing him?”
“Mom—”
“I didn’t get a wonderful feeling when I met his snobbish mother, but did that keep you from marrying the man?”
“Mom—”
“I don’t need my daughter telling me about a man who has been nothing but kind to me. Walter didn’t have to come over here, but he did it to keep you from worrying.”
Giving up, I simply said, “Yes, Mom. I’m sorry. Thanks for helping tonight.”
“That’s better.” She hugged me and kissed my cheek. “Kerrie Ann, I want you to think about what I said earlier. You’re going through some serious turmoil, and you need friends and loved ones. Don’t be so quick to judge.”
I’d heard those words all of my life. Being critical of others had served me well. I had no reason to give it up.
“Good night, Mom.”
As she closed the door behind her, Josh climbed the porch stairs. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah. How much of that did you hear?”
“Everything.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and led me to the moving van. “But, hey, I don’t blame you. I would probably have had the same response if it were my mother.”
I glanced over at him. “Yeah, right. Forget who you’re talking to?”
After his parents divorced, Josh didn’t have much of a relationship with either of them. If his mom was dating, I didn’t think it would faze him much.
We spent the trip back to the house in relative silence. Josh didn’t bother speaking until he pulled up behind my car.
“Kerrie, are you sure you want to stay in Sentinel’s basement?” When
I opened my mouth, he held up his palm. “I don’t mind you sleeping in my guest room.”
Despite what Mom said about keeping people close, I knew moving out of Josh’s apartment had been the right thing to do. I couldn’t concentrate on solving my family’s murders while keeping an appropriate distance from my best friend.
“Josh, you know I love you. And, I love that you want to protect me. But that’s something I have to learn to do on my own for me. Sentinel is safe. There are cameras every—”
Cameras! Why didn’t I remember sooner?
I jumped out of the van. As I ran for the front door of the house, Josh’s heavy footsteps were right behind me.
“Kerrie, what is it?”
I fumbled with my keys for a second and then burst through the front door. Shouting over my shoulder, I told Josh about the security cameras Ryan had installed.
“They wouldn’t have been obvious to the crooks. And I completely forgot about telling the police.” I dashed down the hall toward the study.
It was a stroke of luck I remembered anything. There was a slim chance the cameras caught something worthwhile the night Ryan and RJ were killed.
“Where’s the recorder?” Josh asked as he followed me into the wood-paneled room.
“In the closet.” I stalked across the floor and yanked open the door.
It was a walk-in style closet with shelves holding books and storage crates. Ryan had so much crammed into those boxes—school memorabilia, photo albums, and even knickknacks he’d won during state fairs. The most important items, however, were the recordings of security footage. Since those were tucked away on a top shelf at the rear of the closet, I wasn’t surprised the burglars didn’t find them.
I stopped at the back of the closet and tapped the wall. Running my fingers up and down, I kept up the repetitive motion until I found the hollow spot. When I pushed on it, a hidden door popped out. The recorder was still operating.
Josh reached past me and turned it off. He fumbled with the knobs for a minute before asking, “Where’s the eject button?”
“It’s digital. Once a week, Ryan would transfer the data onto CDs.” I hadn’t done it since his death. The hard drive is probably full. “You’ll have to take the entire recorder.”
“On it.” He unplugged the device and pulled it from the rack. “I can imagine there’s a lot of footage on the recorder. If you want, we can view it tonight. I was just going home to binge-watch Netflix.”
Common sense should have prompted me to turn down the offer. After all, I was capable of watching the data by myself. But, deep down, I suspected doing so might set me up for a night of endless tears. They might still come even with Josh around, but at least I wouldn’t be totally alone.
Slowly, I looked up at him. “If you don’t mind…” My voice trailed off, sounding non-committal.
“Not at all,” he said and took the device to the van.
My head and heart hurt as if they were preparing for any bad images on the recorder. Would I be able to handle whatever was on it? Better question, would the footage reveal anything useful? If it did, was I willing to act on it?
I grabbed a box of discs and followed behind Josh.
18
Nothing but Questions
Using the resources of the tech lab, it didn’t take us too long to find the right segment of footage. According to the time stamp, the invaders entered my house at seven twenty-five in the evening.
A man of average height, wearing head-to-toe black clothing, appeared on the screen. Mr. Average looked toward the left as someone else deactivated the alarm.
Question number one—how did the burglars know the passcode?
Unlike standard home security systems, Ryan installed surveillance that also captured audio. The two men, still standing in the hall, began speaking.
“Turn it up, Josh.”
Seconds later, we heard the conversation. They didn’t speak with accents or use any type of common street slang. Oddly, they sounded like a couple of college students.
Question number two—could somebody be recruiting students? Enticing them to do wrong for easy money?
Their words weren’t important, but there might be enough audio for voice recognition software. I held out a glimmer of hope we might be able to identify the culprits.
“Make it look like a normal break-in,” one of them said. “We were told to smash up the place.”
Who told them? Was it an attempt to throw off the LCPD?
“Got it,” the shorter man said and walked off screen. Seconds later, we heard cabinets opening and closing with items being broken.
That explained my wrecked kitchen. Nobody was looking for anything in there. Most likely, the assailants knew exactly where to find the item they sought.
Josh scrolled through the footage, stopping when the study came into view. Mr. Average, the man who seemed to be in charge, sat behind Ryan’s desk. He tapped his ear and cocked his head to one side. It was like he was listening to something—or someone.
Whoever was feeding him information was tech savvy? Where was that person transmitting from?
The burglar tapped the keyboard and then held his hand over the computer monitor. I guessed he was checking to see if the device was off. His gaze darted around the desk before he disappeared beneath it. Perhaps he was unplugging the computer.
When Mr. Average came back into view, he turned the all-in-one machine around and removed a black pouch from his jacket. After studying the back panel for a few minutes, he decided upon the appropriate tool and began dismantling the computer. Minutes later, the thief had the housing open.
Tossing the plastic case to the side, he smiled and reached into the computer. No one had to tell me what he was after. It was the same in all the home invasions—the hard drive.
The bandit disconnected the media from the computer, took a disk enclosure from his jacket, and slipped the component inside. Before he pocketed it, I noticed a name and a logo on the chassis.
Was there a way to get a close-up of the image? If we could identify the label, we might be able to discover the person behind the crime.
His partner, Short and Fat, entered the room and propped his beefy ass on the edge of the desk. “I took care of the upstairs. Did you get the HDD?”
The perps were technically competent. Most people didn’t refer to hard disk drives by the acronym.
Mr. Average looked up from pillaging my computer. “I know my job. The boss has never had an issue with my work. Can he say the same with yours?”
The number one question! Who the hell was the boss?
The man tucked the tool pouch into a pocket and then slipped the case inside his jacket. “Did you hear that?”
Short and Fat pulled a pistol from his waistband. He checked it for ammo and hopped off the desk.
A notification appeared on the upper left of the screen. Ryan’s car had pulled into the driveway. The man behind the desk stood. He motioned for Short and Fat to leave first.
Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. I knew exactly what would happen next. I didn’t need to see the footage. Memories of that night rushed at me, and the walls began closing in. I shoved to my feet, desperate for air.
Josh paused the recording. Glancing up at me, he grasped my wrist. “Kerrie, we don’t have to watch anymore. I’ll dump it all to a disk. In the morning, I’ll meet with Debbie. See if we can use the voice recognition software to ID these assholes. You don’t have to do anything else.”
Arguing wasn’t even a possibility. My stomach lurched. Fury boiled through my blood. Images lost their clarity as I listened to my heart beating too strong in my head. I clenched my fists ready to fight anyone who got in my damn way.
“Kerrie!” Josh shook me hard.
My eyes landed on him, but I still couldn’t speak. I pushed him away and ran from the tech lab. Running as fast as I could, I crossed the living room, heading for the workout room.
Fresh air—a run through the neighborhood foll
owed by beating the shit out of someone—would have been perfect. In that moment, all I could think of was taking out my agony on somebody. Anybody. With Josh there, I had to do the next best thing.
I eyed the hanging bag in a corner. Without thinking, I delivered a right cross followed by a quick jab-jab and another cross. I’d admit it. The first strikes stung, but I kept punching and punching. Surprisingly, it felt good. I didn’t stop until I felt hands on my arms.
He held me tight, not letting me swing around.
“Let me go,” I shouted.
“No. I’ll never let you go.”
Slowly, Josh dragged me away from the bag. He wrapped his arms around me and lowered his head to my shoulder.
“Kerrie, you’re scaring the shit out of me.”
“Good. People should be scared of me.”
“This isn’t like you. Sweetheart, you have to get some help for this anger. It’s going to get you hurt.”
“You’re wrong, Josh.” I struggled to free myself from his grip, but he only tightened it. “It helps me. I’m going to find the fuckers who killed my family!” I yelled as my vision blurred.
“And do what?” he asked, still holding on to me.
Dropping my hands, I muttered, “I’ll make them pay.”
Josh spun me around and stared at me. “That’s the job of the cops, Kerrie. Let them do it.”
“But they’re not doing shit!” I averted my eyes. Josh couldn’t see what I saw, and it hurt.
“Kerrie, we both know it takes time to find evidence—”
“Bullshit!” My gaze whipped back to him. “You want to know what the LCPD is doing? Not a damn thing! I’ll bet you any amount of money the captain is waiting to classify it a cold case.”
Josh didn’t say a word.
I stepped away from him and looked at my reddish knuckles. We had the proof. We simply needed officials who wanted to believe the evidence instead of the ones who wanted to dismiss it.