Carl Weber Presents Ride or Die Chick 2

by J. M. Benjamin

  “On it,” the officer hurried.

  “You’re welcome, Chief. Anytime, just wish I could’ve been more helpful. I hope you catch the cocksuckin’ bastards who did this, though,” was Todd’s reply.

  “So do I,” was the chief’s response just as he was bombarded with more bad news.

  “Chief, we got another one,” the officer informed him. “In the back of the armored truck.”

  Todd stood there, trying to being nosy, hoping to get an earful to add to the story he would tell his friends later in the day.

  “Have a good day, Mr. Anderson,” the chief dismissed Todd.

  Catching the hint, Todd made tracks to his vehicle.

  “See to it that Mr. Anderson makes it to his vehicle and safely out of the area,” the chief appointed another officer.

  The officer knew what the chief had really requested of him. “No problem, chief.”

  “What do we got?” the chief asked.

  “Don’t look good, Chief.”

  “It never does, give it to me.”

  “Three dead bodies. Two security, the driver forty-eight years old; Gustave Constanza. The passenger; thirty-four years old, Troy Davis, both out of Norfolk. Multiple gunshot wounds to upper and lower parts of the body. We found casings near both bodies, nine millimeters near the driver, nine millimeters and forty calibers near the passenger. In the back of the armored, Thirty-two years old, Judy Smith of Washington D.C., one shot to the head, close range. My guess she was shot somewhere else and placed in the back of the truck.”

  “That answers where the car came from,” the chief said.

  “What car, Chief?”

  “The one the perps got away in. Witness said he saw a Dodge Avenger with D.C. plates backing off the ramp.”

  “That explains why we found two motorcycles.”

  “But why ride motorcycles, then jack a car?” the chief questioned himself, noticing the bikes. “Why not just drive a car? Unless . . .” he answered his own question. “Didn’t you say there were two different shell casings near the passenger security guard?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have someone check his hand and weapon to see whether he fired it or not and have everyone check for traces of blood,” the chief ordered as he put the pieces together in his head.

  “On it.”

  Five minutes later the officer returned with the information the chief had already known existed.

  “You were right as usual, Chief. It’s been confirmed that the security guard’s forty caliber was fired. I checked the gun myself. Out of a full clip three bullets were missing. Judging by the way he was laying, chances were he fired at something or rather someone in front of him, so I followed the path and it led me right to a blood trail next to the armored truck,” the officer announced, proud of himself for what he believed to be great detective work.

  “Good job, Sergeant, have someone run a sample back to headquarters for a DNA immediately.”

  “Already three steps ahead of you, Chief.”

  “And also, have them do a printout of anyone in the seven-cities area with bank robbery on their jacket, male and female starting with the city of Norfolk first,” the chief requested.

  “Gotcha.”

  The chief placed his hands behind his back and began walking around, scanning the area for something that might leap out at him to help tell the story as to what happened out there. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he chimed to himself.

  Chapter 21

  Meanwhile across town, Teflon was just blocks away from her intended destination.

  “How you feelin’ over there?” she asked Rich.

  “As strong as an ox,” he answered.

  Teflon smiled. His answer was to be expected. “And as smart as a fox.” She finished his sentence for him.

  “Exactly.”

  Teflon arrived on the street of the house she had found out social services had assigned little Treach to and parked mere houses away from the address written on the piece of paper. “We’re here,” she informed Rich.

  “Okay, you ready?”

  “Most definitely, but you’re not. You’re in no condition. Just stay here. I’ll go in and grab him and be back as soon as I can.”

  “Like hell,” he coughed. “I’m going.”

  She cut his words short. “Look at you. You’re bleeding all over the place, Rich. If you go in with me like that all you’re gonna do is leave an easy blood trail for them to follow. It’s just a matter of time before they find it back there and run it, so we don’t have no time to waste. Trust me, I got this. I’m going to be in and out and I’m not gonna let anything or anyone stand in my way of doing just that. If someone so much as blinks the wrong way I’m gonna cash their ass out. Now let me go in and get your fuckin’ grandson so we can get the hell out of VA.”

  Every word Teflon had said Rich could not argue with. She was 100 percent right. He had already thought about how he had jeopardized their plan by getting caught slipping. He also knew that he was in no condition to get out of the car, let alone make it into the house. Each minute he felt himself getting weaker and weaker. It was his pride that caused him to continue to stand firm, but after hearing Teflon’s words he reasoned with himself not to allow his ego to stand in the way of what needed to be done and how it needed to be carried out.

  “Hurry up and go get my grandson,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  Teflon checked her guns. She stuck one in the lower part of her back and shoved the other in her shoulder holster.

  “Be back in a sec,” she assured Rich, leaning over and planting a kiss on his forehead before exiting the Dodge Avenger.

  “All right kids, time to do your house chores and freshen up before we eat,” the elderly staff lady announced.

  Children of all ages ranging from six to sixteen began to scurry to their assigned areas. Most of them had been at the house long enough to incorporate the daily schedule into their daily routine. Treacherous had been at the house for nine months, the longest he had ever been at one place. In total he had been to twenty-three different spots affiliated with social services from the time he was born up until now, none of the others lasting longer than six months. As usual, he kept to himself and only did what he was told, nothing more, nothing less. His job was to take out the trash before and after each meal. Treacherous made his rounds, gathering up the garbage bags that were filled in the cans throughout the house. Retrieving three out of the five bags, he then made his way toward the back of the house. Just as he reached the back door, he heard the front doorbell ring.

  Ms. Davis, the head of staff, stopped what she was doing and looked up at the hallway clock on the wall. It was well after visiting hours, she thought as she walked toward the front door to see who was there, wondering who could it be.

  She moved the door’s curtain to the side. She didn’t recognize the woman, but was sure she was one of the children’s parents. Maybe one of the new ones, she thought, figuring they were unaware of the visiting schedule.

  “Yes, may I help you?” she asked, opening up the front door.

  “Yeah, if you don’t wanna die,” Teflon answered. She had already drawn her gun from behind her back. She pushed her way through the door and aimed her gun to Ms. Davis’s face.

  Instantly Ms. Davis threw her hands up. “I don’t understand,” she exclaimed. She had never been so scared in her sixty years of living.

  “I came for my son,” Teflon announced. Her eyes scanned the house as she spoke. From what she could see all the children and the other staff were preoccupied and her sudden presence had gone unnoticed.

  “Young lady, just relax,” Ms. Davis tried to reason. In her twenty-five years as a child services worker she had encountered parents who made the same demands but never on such an extreme scale. Nonetheless, she now understood, but there was no way she could have known how serious Teflon actually was or understood the lengths she would go to, though, if she didn’t comply wit
h her demand.

  “My son’s name is Treacherous Freeman. You have two minutes, one to locate him and the other to bring him to me without making a scene, or you will not live to see another day. Are we clear?” Teflon calmly stated.

  Between the coldhearted looked she saw in her eyes and her stern tone there was no doubt in Ms. Davis’s mind that Teflon meant business.

  “Yes,” she answered. “Please follow me,” she then said.

  Teflon concealed her weapon and followed.

  “Ms. Davis, I finished straightening up,” a little girl bombarded as Teflon and Ms. Davis walked through the house.

  “Very good,” Ms. Davis’s voice cracked. “Now go get ready for super.”

  The little girl hurried off to do as she was told. Ms. Davis nervously continued to search for Treacherous.

  “Is everything okay, Ms. Davis?” one of the male staff members asked, noticing her peculiar facial expression.

  “Yes, everything is fine, Tyrone,” she carefully replied. She had hoped her voice hadn’t cracked like it had when the little girl approached her.

  “Okay. Hello,” she then addressed Teflon. She nodded her head and shot him an award- winning warm smile. She watched him closely to see if he was aware of any imminent danger. She could tell by the way he was staring at her that something else was on his mind other than her being a threat. Convinced he was clueless, Teflon placed her hand on Ms. Davis’s shoulder. “I really need to be going,” Teflon hinted.

  “Of course,” Ms. Davis replied, knowing she was running out of time.

  “Tyrone, have you seen Treacherous?”

  Tyrone looked at his watch. “He should be out back emptying the trash,” he offered.

  “That’s right,” Ms. Davis remembered.

  “He should be coming back in now,” he added.

  “Thank you, Tyrone.”

  Just then Teflon heard the familiar voice. It took everything in her power not to let the three- letter-word melt her heart.

  “Mom?” Treacherous called out. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw her standing with Ms. Davis and Mr. Waters. Even from the side view, despite only meeting and seeing her once, he could tell it was his mother. It was a face he had locked in and taken to bed with him every night since the first time he had laid eyes on her. Although it was good to see her, Treacherous wondered how she had found him and furthermore, what was she doing there?

  “Treach baby, come here,” she spoke in a motherly tone.

  Ms. Davis remained silent. Treacherous walked over to his mother. Teflon embraced him with her left arm and kissed him on the forehead.

  “We’re leaving,” she told him.

  Her words not only surprised Treacherous, but Tyrone as well.

  “Ms. Davis, what’s going on?” he asked. Teflon could now see in his face that he had figured out something wasn’t right. Wasting no time, she sprung into action. Treacherous’s eyes widened at the sight of the gun his mother drew.

  “Get the fuck over there,” she barked, waving the black piece of steel at both Ms. Davis and Tyrone, more so at Tyrone as she placed Treacherous behind her. The bass of her voice echoed throughout the house, alarming the other two female staff on duty and the other thirty-four children it housed.

  “Everybody over here,” she then commanded, drawing her second weapon.

  Fear filled the air as screams and cries of young children outweighed the echo of Teflon’s orders.

  In seconds everyone in the entire house was packed together in front of Teflon like sardines.

  “As long as everyone do as I say nobody will get hurt,” Teflon announced.

  Children and staff both shook their heads in agreement.

  “How many phones are in this house?” she directed her question to Ms. Davis.

  “Three,” she replied.

  “Where?”

  “One over on the wall, another at the top of the stairs, and one in my office back there,” Ms. Davis made sure to be truthful and accurate.

  “Where’s your first aid kit?” she then asked.

  “It’s in my office under my desk.”

  “Treach, go into the kitchen and get a knife,” Teflon instructed her son. “Then go and cut all phone lines, get the first aid kit, and come right back, you hear me?”

  “Uh-hm.” Treacherous shook his head and hurried to the kitchen.

  “Sister, you don’t have to do this,” Tyrone blurted out.

  “Muthafucka I ain’t ya sistah now shut the fuck up,” Teflon barked.

  All the children’s eyes widened at Teflon’s words.

  “Tyrone, please,” Ms. Davis begged. The last thing she wanted was for Tyrone to get Teflon riled up.

  “What?” He threw his hands up. “I was only trying to help.”

  Teflon walked over toward him. “You wanna help? Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

  Treacherous was just returning after cutting the last phone line in Ms. Davis’s office when he heard his mother screaming on Mr. Waters.

  “Anybody with cell phones pull ’em out,” she then ordered. The two female staff in the back immediately raised their phones in the air. Ms. Davis did the same in the front, but Tyrone hesitated.

  “Treach, go get those.” She instructed little Treacherous to retrieve the phones from the back.

  Tyrone couldn’t believe Teflon was up in his face the way she was. The fact that she had a gun pointed at him meant nothing to him. Ever since she had first drawn the weapons he was tempted to try her, but instead he took a different route, a route Teflon had no way of knowing. Tyrone was not at all threatened or intimidated by her. He had grown up in the streets of Virginia and had been around guns all of his life and had actually carried one himself at some point, and she didn’t seem like she knew how to handle one. Tyrone perceived her as a typical enraged mother who had gone to the extreme to reunite with her son. He was convinced in his mind that he could still talk her down before she made a huge mistake. He had no way of knowing that his analogy was way off.

  “Think about what you’re doing.” Rather complying with Teflon’s demand he made another attempt to reason with her. “It’s not too late.”

  “Yes it is,” she calmly said just as the bullet exited the chamber of her gun and entered Tyrone Waters’s mouth.

  The shot caused Ms. Davis to faint and one of the female staff to vomit while all the kids and the other female staff now screamed uncontrollably.

  “Everybody be quiet and no one else will be hurt,” Teflon assured them all.

  She knew it was time to get out of the group home. She stepped over Tyrone’s body and retrieved Ms. Davis’s cellular phone, which had hit the ground right before she had. She then turned back to Tyrone’s lifeless body and snatched his phone out of his hip clip. When she grabbed his phone Teflon could hear a voice coming from it. She looked at the screen of Tyrone Waters’s phone.

  “Fuck,” she exclaimed, seeing the number 911 plastered across the screen. The call showed that it had been running for the past three minutes. Teflon cursed herself for not noticing Tyrone dialing the number.

  “Treacherous baby, let’s get up outta here,” she told her son.

  Treacherous made his way over to Teflon. Before she made her way to the front door Teflon pumped two more bullets into Tyrone’s lifeless body, then tucked one of her guns, grabbed Treacherous’s arm, and scurried to the door. Everyone jumped at the sounds of the shots. One of the female staff rushed to Ms. Davis as soon as she heard the front door slam.

  Chapter 22

  Chief Randle was just making his way back toward the armored truck when he heard his name called. He could see excitement in his sergeant’s face as he approached him. “Tell me something to make me smile,” he told the sergeant.

  “How about this,” the sergeant began. “We got a positive ID on the DNA we found. You ready?” the sergeant asked.

  “I’m listening.”

  “DNA belongs to a Mr. Richard Robinson.”

&nbs
p; “Robinson?” The chief ran the name around his head.

  “Come on, Chief, I was told you would recognize the name.”

  “Richard Robinson?” he continued to ponder.

  “Maybe this will refresh your memory. I did like you said and had them pull up all ex-cons who had any type of armed robbery on their jacket, male and female, starting with the ones in the local area from the biggest to the smallest and guess what?”

  “Come with it,” the chief welcomed.

  “Richard Robinson’s name was number two on the list. He served over twenty-five years for armed robbery. Got caught after he got away with over a million dollars from Bank of America. Ring any bells?”

  The moment the sergeant made mention of the bank’s name and how long ago the case was the bells began to burst his eardrums. He now knew why the name Richard Robinson had stood out to him. It was his first time working a bank job as a detective. It was also the case that had gotten him promoted to head detective in his division.

  “You gots to be kiddin’ me. I thought he was dead,” the chief chimed.

  “Nope, alive and kicking. But wait, it gets better,” the sergeant continued.

  “Do you remember about ten years ago the same bank was hit again by a young couple?”

  “Now that I remember,” the chief answered. “It was all over the news when I came back from vacation. I was pissed I wasn’t here to work the case. I think they were calling them the modern- day Bonnie and Clyde. The goddamn boyfriend battled it out not too far from here on two-sixty-four, if I remember and the girlfriend was found unconscious in the car.”

  “You remember right,” the sergeant said. “But there’s something you forgot about that whole incident.”

  “What’s that?” the chief was eager to know.

  “That the boyfriend was Richard Robinson’s son.”

  “Jesus, how could I forget,” the chief retorted.

  “Wait, though. When the list for the females came out, guess whose name popped up?”

  The chief didn’t have to guess that one. “The girlfriend.”

  “The girlfriend,” the sergeant repeated. “Seems her federal sentence was overturned and she’s been out for a few months now. May be a long shot, but . . .”