by Cheri Lewis
“It doesn’t,” I answer myself and I repeat those words over and over in my head as I begin to get busy putting the bedroom back in order.
I almost have the bed made when Tank brings in his first bag. He helps me straighten the comforter then stuff the pillows into the pillow cases and throw them on top. I grab a garbage bag full of my clothes that I stuffed them into it yesterday when I was emptying out my dresser. I dump them all out on the bed and start separating them and stuffing them into the drawers. Tank brings in more bags and some hang-up clothes. I have just dumped out my last bag when the doorbell rings and Tank says, “I’ll get it. It should be the pizza.”
“Okay, I’ll be out there in a minute after I put these clothes away.”
He nods then walks to me and gives me a quick kiss. I smile at him then he leaves the room. I grab an arm full of clothes and open the bottom drawer of the dresser and stop before I put them in. There are two shoe boxes in the drawer; I pull both of them out with one hand and then drop the clothes inside. I take the shoeboxes back to the bed and slowly lift one of the lids; it has an assortment of items: a lock of hair, bronzed baby booties, a sonogram picture with the words written "It’s a girl" on the side. My heart tightens in my chest. It has to be their baby’s items. What do I do with it? I slide the lid off the other box. It’s full of pictures. They are all labeled: first tooth, first haircut. There’s a wedding photo of him and Suzie. I try not to be disrespectful but I don’t like seeing him married to someone who didn’t love him. I find a picture that has a closer up and better view of them and I study her hard. She seems so familiar, actually she and the baby both do. I try to remember if their picture hung with the many that were downstairs in the apartment but I don’t remember it being there. Maybe we used the same nail salon or she went to Harry’s? I think as I try to figure it out. I go to lay the pictures back in the box when I see a photo lying on top of the stack still in the box. The photos fall from my hand all over the floor. I reach in and pick up that single photo. Oh no… It can’t be…. No. no. no. no. no., I’m wrong. Tears instantly stream down my face and I feel sick to my stomach. I have no idea what to do. “What do you do McKinsey?” I cry quietly out loud to myself. I search for my purse that holds my cell phone and remember I’d set it down in the living room. I shove the picture in my pocket and frantically began picking up all the others, “Hey, Babe—” Tank sticks his head back in the door, “What in the hell? Are you alright?” He rushes to me. He sees all the pictures and different emotions flitter across his face “Where did you get these?” I point toward the dresser. He pulls me into his arms. “I’m sorry.” I pull him tighter against me and cry. I cry harder than I’ve ever cried before. He pulls me away and wipes my tears with his thumbs. I see the concerned look when he says, “I didn’t know these were in there. I thought they had been put away.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, “they just caught me off guard.” His eyes are tender as they search mine and then his face changes. It goes completely blank. I know he knows I’m hiding something and that something else is wrong. He rubs my back and we sit on the side of the bed. “You feel like eating?”
I quickly shake my head. “Okay, you want to watch some TV or something? We can finish putting the stuff up later,” he says quietly.
I nod. He slides down off the bed first then takes my hand and leads me to the living room. I’m thankful when I see my purse on the couch. I pick it up and pull my cell phone out and push it into my pocket then throw my purse into the recliner. He sits on the couch and I lay in his lap while he runs his fingers through my hair. We watch two episodes of the Big Bang Theory. I constantly fight back my tears trying to pretend everything is alright. When the show ends I tell Tank I need to use the bathroom. I unwrap my arms from around him and walk toward my bedroom. I look in the mirror in the hallway to make sure he isn’t following me. I shut the bedroom door then run into the bathroom and shut the bathroom door. I pull my phone out and the picture. My hands are shaking as I tap the phone to call Hunter. I study the picture while the phone rings. “You not mad at me anymore?” he asks when he answers the phone.
I whisper with a very shaky voice, “Hunter, I need your help.”
“What the fuck McKinsey, what’s wrong!?” he bellows.
I whisper again, “Find an excuse to come over here. You can’t let Tank know I called you.”
“McKinsey, I’m coming right now.” He hangs up and I sit on the closed toilet lid wiping my tears trying to hold back the hurt and heartbreak I feel for Tank. Pretending to have used the bathroom I flush the toilet, wash my hands then opened the door.
I jump when Tank is sitting on the bed looking through the photos. “Tell me what it is McKinsey. What did you see?”
“I…” I can’t say the words.
“Do you love me?” he asks.
“More than anything,” I cry.
“This is my past,” he says holding up a photograph between two fingers then lets it fall back into the box.
“I know.”
“Tell me what’s so bad that you had to call Hunter to help you.”
“How… I…”
“Your phone is still tapped from before. Not on purpose, it was just never undone. Why’d you call Hunter?”
“Because I need to talk to him.”
“You can talk to me. Why’d you call Hunter?” I don’t respond, I just watch when he closes his eyes and asks, “What can you tell Hunter that you can’t tell me?”
“It’s nothing. I...I just haven’t talked to him in a while and thought I would call him.”
He grits his teeth but remains calm. “You’re a terrible liar, tell me why you called him.”
“Don’t make me tell you, please,” I beg.
His temper is wearing thin and I know it when he yells at me, “Why’d you call Hunter!”
I yell back completely flustered, “Because I think I know who killed your family!”
He looks like I’ve slapped him. He turns white as a sheet. “Who?” he asks carefully.
“Let’s just let Hunter handle it,” I plead.
He stands and backs me against the wall. “Who?” he asks more firmly.
“Please…” I beg again. I know Tank will kill him.
“Tell me now!” he screams and slams both hands against the wall on both sides of me.
I jump. “My boss,” I whimper out.
I can tell he’s thinking and apparently things start connecting because Tank’s face turns to rage. He doesn’t even ask how I know. He turns to walk out of the bedroom. I run and pull on him to stop him but he yanks away from me. It hurts my feelings but I don’t let it stop me. I run in front of him, hugging him to me, pushing against him but he drags me down the hall. “Let me go” he seethes. But I don’t. He pries my arms away and pushes me backwards. I fall down hard on my butt. He looks back and I scramble to get up. He rushes out the front door; I run after him then run back into the house to get my purse. I make it back outside when I hear a weird high pitched whistling sound. I jump in the car, crank it and begin pulling out of the driveway. It won’t go easily. I get out of the car and I can see both tires on my left side have been cut and are almost on the rims. “Damn it!” I scream. I drive the car back into the driveway. I call Hunter and tell him everything I know. “Please find him before he kills him,” I beg.
I begin calling anybody I can think of that might be able to help. I call Flame and talk to Jagger. I call the numbers I have for Ambrose and Alexander. They both go to voicemail but I leave messages. I call my parents and ask them to come get me so I can go look for Tank.
I try repeatedly to call Hunter and Tank but nobody will answer. My parents pick me up and I explain to them what happened and I want to start at work. I don’t have Mr. Samford’s address but I’m sure it would be somewhere in the computer at work. When we make it to my work the parking lot is swarming with police cars and an ambulance is pulling out. I don’t wait for my dad to pull to a stop I jump out and race
to the building. I’m stopped by an officer I don’t recognize before I can make it inside. “You can’t go in,” he says.
“I work here,” is the only thing I can think to say of at the moment.
“That doesn’t matter. You can’t go in,” he says more firmly.
“Is Officer Hunter here? Tell him McKinsey is here. He knows I was coming,” I lie.
The officer calls over his radio and I hear Hunter on the other end, “Let her through.”
The man steps back and lets me pass I run into the building and right into Hunter who is coming around the corner. “McKinsey—”
“Is Tank alright?” I ask out of breath.
“Yes—”
“Did—did he kill him?”
He shakes his head. “Listen he’s pretty upset right now. Let him calm down and then you—”
“I’m not waiting. I want to see him now. You let Tank tell me he doesn’t want to see me.”
He stops another officer that’s coming from the back, “She needs to go back outside and wait.” He looks back at me then says, “I’ll call you when you can see him”
I reach out and grab Hunter’s arm as he turns to leave and deliver the lowest blow I could think of. “You said you regretted feeding me to Cootie. And if you could ever make it up to me you would. This is it, this is how you do it. Just let me see him five minutes to make sure he’s alright then I swear, I’ll go back outside and I’ll wait.”
I feel terrible for bringing up Cootie, I’ve never blamed Hunter for him leaving me with Cootie but if this gets me in to see Tank then it’s worth it. Hunter waves the other officer off and doesn’t sound happy when he says, “Fine, follow me.”
I turn and walk down the hallway to my office, nothing looks out of place. When I walk into Mr. Samford’s office it’s destroyed. The desk is flipped over. There are papers everywhere, and Tank is sitting against the wall with his elbows resting on his knees and his head down. I see he has something in his hand. I go to him and squat down slowly, “Hey,” I say quietly. He looks up his face was red and I see little specks of smeared blood. It’s obvious he had been crying. I reach out and touch his arm.
“I was going to kill him,” He admits.
“I know.”
“But I didn’t.”
“I know.”
“He needs to suffer.”
“He will.”
“All it took was a picture this whole time.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away.”
“You did the right thing calling Hunter.” I nod. He reaches up and rubs his forehead with his thumb. And I notice his knuckles are swollen. I sit on the floor in front of him giving him space, then he continues, “I held the gun to his head and he begged me to kill him, said he couldn’t take the guilt anymore. He said he was sorry, he was angry and felt betrayed.” He laughs a mad laugh then looks at me. “Can you believe he said he felt betrayed? She had ended their long affair, apparently she found someone new. And he lost it, so he ran over her with his car.” He looks back down and stares at the paper in his hands. I look at it and it’s the photograph that sat on Mr. Samford’s desk. I don’t know what to say so I don’t respond just rub his arm. His eyes cut to me. “He killed my wife, but he has to live with killing his own daughter.”
Time stops and I freeze. I open my mouth to ask if I understand what he is telling me when he says with a solemn whisper, “It’s my last secret to tell. Margie wasn’t mine. She was his.”
I don’t think. I lean up and wrap my arms around him, pulling him to me. He hugs me back tightly. I feel his fingers pressing into my back like he’s trying to consume me. We stay that way a long time. My legs and arms ache but I don’t care. After a long while Hunter comes over and says, “We need to talk to Tank now.”
I nod and pull away. I push up and stand on my shaky blood starved legs. I bump his boot with my foot and he looks up. I smile at him and reach my hand out to help him up. He focuses on me and I can see it in his eyes. He reaches up and takes my hand. They are full of hope and love.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It’s a bumpy road in the beginning. There was no way to hide the story. We hid at his house in the apartment for the news to die down which took a few days but eventually it disappeared. The trial weighed over both of us. I’d have to testify how I figured out it was my boss and I almost wouldn’t have because the little girl in the photos were much older. If it hadn’t been for Suzie looking almost identical age wise to the picture I found in Tanks photos I would’ve never put it together. It turned out Mr. Samford was never married. I had seen his pictures so why would I question it? He had the pictures made with a photo of Suzie and Margie that he had stolen from Tank’s home when he and Suzie were still having the affair. They were always in the same pose but it was a formal picture so it didn’t really stand out as odd. The really sick thing was he had Margie’s picture digitally altered with age enhancement— like she was still alive and growing.
Greg Samford eventually hung himself with a sheet one night in his jail cell, which in some ways made all our lives easier. It was sad another human lost their life but no matter what it wouldn’t have brought either Suzie or Margie back. He left a note, until Tank confronted him that night in his office, he didn’t know Margie was his daughter, it seemed Suzie had lied to him as well. It took a few weeks but DNA confirmed that he was Margie’s father.
I heard Mr. Samford’s cousin came in and tried to take over running the business. I couldn’t work there after what happened so I when I began looking for a job Tank offered for me to come work for him. At first I was hesitant but it’s been fun, I’ve learned all sorts of things about the detective world and Tank even took Jessie and me out once to teach us to shoot. Which makes me wonder why he hasn’t taken us back out again since.
As far as the Black Rose Killer, I sneaked into Tank’s office one day and looked at the file. It didn’t take me long to regret it. He had been watching me for months before I received my roses that he sent letting me know he chose me. I still don’t know what I did to get his attention and I guess I never will. A small part of me wishes Tank hadn’t killed him that day so I could ask him. But only a small part, when I saw all the other women who died at his hands. I’m glad he’s dead and he won’t hurt anybody else.
Flame introduced Jessie to someone and so far that’s going great. He seems happy and I’m glad. My best friend deserves the best of everything in his life.
My parents, without thought, pulled out more tables for Thanksgiving dinner when we asked if we could invite Tank’s brother and Jessie’s new friend. It turned out our group of misfits were a perfect match and it made the holidays that much more special.
Tank and I are still together and going strong. I’ve been patiently leaving strategic hints around the house here and there like a magazine opened to picture of a beautiful ring, or having Jessie accidently leaving a bridal magazine behind for Tank to find. Yes, I know how pathetic that may be but I think Tank’s enjoying it. I see his face when he finds my hints, and he smiles his sexy smirk. My detective knows exactly what I want. But if he doesn’t listen soon, I’ll have to tell my mother I’m ready to get married. Then it’s game on… I hear wedding bells already, don’t you?
THE END
Continue reading for a teaser of my next upcoming book!
Acknowledgements
L. Mallory, thanks for taking on this task of straightening out my jumbled mess. It’s always an exciting process! Your sarcastic comments while finding silly errors or sending me a note telling me you almost tinkled yourself laughing, really made this normally grueling experience a lot of fun. I’m already looking forward to my next book. I hope you are.
Tiffany Crowell, I thank you, Flame thanks you and Jagger really thanks you! For those of you who don’t know Tiffany stopped by my office one day and I said. “I need a hot biker name.” We chatted a little while then she messaged me on Facebook with several other names and Jagger was one of them
.
Stephanie Boartfield I’m so glad we’ve reconnected again after all these years. Thanks for helping me bring Flame to life. And thank you for the fun and encouraging texts and Facebook messages, oh and patiently teaching me how to pin on Pinterest again.
Mom, Dad, Andrew, and Bart – I love you!
Michelle, one day I will be able to do something to pay you back for all your countless hours of help. I haven’t and won’t ever forget, you’re on my list of people I owe big time!
Val McGee writers’ group, I know I’ve said it before but thank you for welcoming me with open arms and making me feel included. Thank you for your TOLERANCE! I know how much I need to learn and this group has taught and continues to teach me so much. I look forward to our meetings. I’m actually sad when we have an extra week between meetings or the holidays mess with our schedule. I’ve learned something from each and every one of you.
Robyn & Becky, thank you once again for taking time out of your life to stop, read and correct my story! You guys rock!
Helen, I don’t even know where to begin. Your talent is something I envy. Your patience with teaching me the correct way, should win a medal. And I love that I can call you on the phone with a simple question and an hour passes without even knowing it. God has lined my life with special people and I consider you one of them!
BLACKGUARD
Cheri Lewis
Cheri Lewis © copyright 2014
I felt a fingertip lightly trace up my spine and then back down. Next, I sense a hint of warm lips as they lingered at the small of my back. I squirm in excitement as his tongue starts slowly tracing the path of the finger, stopping every few seconds to kiss lightly. As my body comes alive with want, a hand slides into my panties, over my bottom, and a finger dips in the folds of my sex. I spread my legs wider for him. He lifts his lips from my shoulder and then I feel the warmth of his breath against my ear as he growls, “That’s right baby open all the way up for me.” He massages my clit and I start to moan. I feel his teeth as they lightly nip my shoulder blade. My body aches for him as he glides his thumb inside me. I push back, wanting more, beginning to move with the rhythm of his fingers as he plays with my clit. His lips lightly touch my ear as he commands in a rough voice, “I want to feel you come.”