Delphie nodded.
“Come on everyone,” Sam called upstairs. “Let’s eat.”
Tanesha followed her parents back into the dining room. As people began to fill the room, Alex’s team came out of hiding to join them. Tanesha leaned over to her father.
“Do you know what’s going to happen?” Tanesha asked.
“Only what she said and what you witnessed,” Rodney said. “It won’t keep us out of the police station.”
“At least this time, we’re not alone,” Yvonne said.
“Alex, Raz and the Feebs will be with your parents the entire time,” MJ said. “No secret deals in back rooms. Everything up front and documented. Your mom will be home for dinner.”
“We have to trust the players,” Sandy reached for Tanesha’s hand and squeezed it.
“It’s going to be another long day,” Delphie said.
~~~~~~~~
Friday morning — 9:35 a.m.
Yvonne held out her hand and Rodney took it. They walked hand in hand into the main Denver Police Station together. Coming in from the bright day, the waiting area seemed dark. Yvonne felt, more than saw, a man move toward them.
“Rodney,” the man said. “I just heard and . . . ”
Yvonne gasped. He was the father of the girl Rodney was supposed to have hurt. The last time she’d seen that man, he’d threatened to cut out Rodney’s heart. Yvonne jumped in front of her husband.
“Stay away!” Yvonne said. “Get away from him.”
“You must be Yvonne,” the man smiled or grimaced. Yvonne was so fierce she couldn’t tell which. The big caramel colored Homeland Security Agent walked over to her.
“What’s going on here?” Agent Arthur “Raz” Rasmussen asked. “Yvonne?”
“He’s going to kill Rodney,” Yvonne said.
“Kill him?” The man looked surprised. He shook his head. “No, we came to . . . ”
“But you said . . . ” Yvonne looked up at Rodney. She saw a mixture of sorrow and remorse on his face.
“We have a lot to catch up on,” Rodney said. “Yvonne just got home and we haven’t had a chance to catch up on everything.”
“It’s finally over?” The man looked to the heavens. “Thank the Lord.”
The man took Yvonne’s hands into his own.
“Welcome home,” he said. “I’m Reverend White.”
“Yvie, Reverend White is the man who led the group that got me out of prison,” Rodney said. “He . . . and I . . . ”
“We worked it out,” the Reverend said. “I went to see Rodney every month, just to stare at him, and then . . . The Lord came to me. Sounds stupid, but that’s the only explanation that makes sense. On the thirtieth visit, more than two years after I started going up to Canon City, I ask Rodney if he killed my daughter. He said no and he didn’t know who did. What concerned Rodney was that a man like that was still on the streets while he was in prison. And for the first time in my life, the Lord spoke to me.”
The man looked at Rodney and Yvonne watched as a kind of love passed between the men.
“Rodney was there,” the Reverend said. “If he hadn’t been there, really been present with me when the Lord spoke and I broke down, well, I don’t know what would have happened. My whole life changed in that one moment. I haven’t been the same since.”
A younger man walked up to the Reverend. He glanced at the younger man and smiled at Yvonne.
“I have prayed every day that you would be able to make it home,” the Reverend said. “Praise be to God.”
Unwilling to move from her protective place, Yvonne gave the crazy man a mild smile. The Reverend turned his attention to Rodney.
“I heard on the radio they pulled you in,” the Reverend said. “My son is a defense lawyer now. We came down to help if we can.”
“Daniel White, sir,” the young man said. “I cleared my schedule when my father called. If I can be of any assistance, I’m here for you.”
“He may not want your help,” Samantha Hargreaves waddled over to them. “But I do.”
She smiled at the Homeland Security agent and he nodded. Yvonne smiled to herself. She knew what passed between a man and a woman when she carried his baby. Catching her smile, the Homeland Security agent raised his eyebrows in a kind of nod.
“They are going to separate you,” Samantha plowed on.
“But . . . ” Rodney started.
“I know it’s not what you wanted, but it’s what we’re going to have to do,” Samantha said. “There’s a host of people who need to watch these interviews, your interviews. Many of them have flown in from around the country and the world.”
Yvonne shifted back until she felt Rodney’s hard body behind her. Everything seemed so overwhelming, so terrifying. When he slipped his big hands over hers, she knew she could handle it all.
“Mr. White,” Samantha said to the young lawyer.
“Yes ma’am,” he said.
“If it’s all right with you, I’m going to ask that you help Mr. Smith,” Samantha said to the lawyer. “Do not agree to anything. Make them direct their questions to you.”
She leaned in close to the young man, but Yvonne could still hear her.
“Don’t give them an inch,” Samantha said. “This is a railroad job that none of the alphabet soup wants any part of. We’re playing our parts so that they can hone in on the men behind this. It’s up to us to make sure Yvonne and Rodney aren’t collateral damage in this train wreck.”
“I always liked the idea of being a train robber, ma’am,” the young lawyer smiled.
Samantha gave him a tight smile.
“Is that all right with you, Mr. Smith?” Samantha asked.
“Yes ma’am, but I’m not leaving here without Yvonne,” Rodney said.
“I’m not leaving here without both of you,” Reverend White said. “If they even think about keeping you here, I’ll raise a stink so loud they’ll think Joshua himself was standing out here.”
The man crossed his arms across his chest and gave a firm nod.
“Good. But if the walls don’t crumble . . . ” She nodded to the Homeland Security agent. He held out a note with a list of phone numbers on it. “Call these numbers.”
“Will do,” Reverend White said. “In an hour?”
“We’ll be lucky if we’ve gotten through the introductions in an hour,” Samantha smiled. “If it’s six o’clock and you haven’t seen us, get on the phone.”
“I’ll do it,” he said.
A police detective came to the counter and gestured toward Rodney. The young lawyer went to the counter to speak to the detective. He turned around to them.
“They’re ready for us,” the lawyer said.
Yvonne turned to hold him. For a moment, he rested his head in the crook of her neck. When he looked up, his big right hand cradled her head.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
She smiled. His lips brushed hers and he followed his young lawyer and the tall blonde Homeland Security agent back into the office.
“Are you ready?” Samantha asked.
“I guess so,” Yvonne said.
The older Denver Police detective Yvonne had met and drawn a picture of last night was waiting for them near the door. As they approached a tall man in an expensive suit stepped into the doorway.
“Ah shit,” Samantha said under her breath. “The Federal Prosecutor is here.”
“Why Jeremy,” Yvonne smiled at the man. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
The Federal Prosecutor cleared his throat.
“Of course, I don’t have to attend to your . . . needs today,” Yvonne smiled at him. “I’m a free woman.”
Yvonne looked up into the Federal Prosecutor’s face. His face drained of color. For a second, he looked like he was going to faint.
“Excuse us,” Samantha said as she passed.
The Federal Prosecutor lunged at Yvonne and hit the Homeland Security Agent they called Raz instead. Powerfully
built, the Homeland Security Agent picked up the Prosecutor by the shoulders and set him down in front of the uniformed Denver Police officers.
“Will you take out this trash?” he asked.
“Be glad to.” The uniformed police officer took out his handcuffs to place on the prosecutor.
“Ma’am,” the Homeland Security Agent offered her his arm.
Her heart beating like a drum, she took his arm and forced herself to walk past the prosecutor. They were near the back when she sagged. The tall Agent leaned down to her.
“Don’t let them break you now,” the agent said. “There are a lot of people, women, even children, who need you to be strong for them today. You can do this.”
She looked up into his handsome face.
“You’re in the home stretch.”
He nodded and she copied his gesture. They walked into the interview room together.
Chapter Two Hundred and Fourteen
Bullet Proof
Friday morning — 9:45 a.m.
Uncomfortable, Rodney stood in the doorway of the interrogation room. His eyes flicked from corner to corner of the room. The color on the walls was different from the small room where he’d lost his entire life, but his nostrils picked up the same smell of desperation mixed with industrial cleaner. A bead of sweat dripped down his back. He took a breath and stepped into the room. He felt the tall blonde man step in behind him. As if to say he felt the same way about the room, the Agent touched his back.
Rodney glanced at the young man. The agent took off his dark glasses. In the Homeland Security Agent’s blue eyes, he saw the shadow of deep suffering. He nodded to acknowledge what he saw in the man.
“Let’s sit down,” Daniel White, the Reverend’s son, said.
The agent glanced at the lawyer.
“I’d prefer to stand,” Rodney said.
“Then we stand,” the agent said. “Colin Hargreaves, sir. General Hargreaves sends his best regards for a speedy resolution to this matter.”
Colin’s eyes flicked to the mirrored window. He’d said the words evenly, as if he was comforting Rodney. The movement of his eyes indicated the threat. General, once Senator, Hargreaves must have orchestrated the agent’s presence. For the first time since hearing that Alvin wanted to take Yvonne, Rodney felt like there might be a slight chance she wouldn’t have to go.
Rodney pulled out a chair and sat down. His lawyer did the same. Colin put on his dark glasses and moved to the corner of the room.
They settled in to wait.
~~~~~~~~
Friday morning — 9:45 a.m.
Yvonne followed her short, pregnant lawyer into the depths of the Denver Police Department. They twisted this way and that way until they came to a small conference room. Two impossibly young women and an equally young man dressed in street clothing were sitting around the conference table. Reading copies of her journals, their heads were down.
“She’s here,” the uniformed police officer said when they entered the conference room.
The young people stood from their chairs. One at a time, they introduced themselves. But the bigger they smiled, the more uncomfortable Yvonne felt. Her caramel colored Homeland Security agent shifted toward her. She, her lawyer, and the Agent stood in the doorway.
They’d been duped.
These young people had neither the experience nor the rank to do anything about the crimes reported in her journals. The Denver Police weren’t planning on doing anything with the information in her journals.
“Not a damn thing,” Yvonne said under her breath.
Samantha grabbed Yvonne’s forearm.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Samantha said. “We’ll be leaving.”
They turned in place to see the door close.
The lock clicked.
They were trapped.
When they turned back, the young man had a handgun pointed at them.
“Your weapon, Agent Rasmussen,” the young man said.
Yvonne watched the fight work its way across the agent’s face. When he looked down to take a gun from his side holster, his eyes flicked to her.
He’d known this was going to happen.
He set a gun on the table.
“Your telephone,” the young woman closest to them said. “Ms. Hargreaves, we need yours too.”
“You will open this door immediately or I promise you, you will suffer the consequences,” Samantha said.
There was something about the depth of power of her lawyer’s voice that made Yvonne look at her. Samantha hadn’t known this was going to happen, but she’d expected it anyway. Her lawyer might be pregnant. She might be small. But she was clearly tough as hell.
“We’re terrified,” the other woman said. “Telephone?”
The first woman grabbed Samantha’s briefcase and the second woman took her purse. The women rifled through her briefcase. They gave her telephone and laptop to the young man. One at a time, he took out the batteries to disconnect the GPS and stomped on the phones.
“Now what?” the Agent asked.
“We wait,” the young man said.
The lights flickered. It was almost imperceptible. In fact, Yvonne didn’t think Samantha noticed. Since her brain injury, Yvonne was very sensitive to changes in light. She knew the lights had flickered. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the Agent’s eyes shift to look at the clock. He knew the lights had flickered as well.
They might not have their phones and gun, but they were not alone.
“May we sit down?” the agent said. “Ms. Hargreaves is pregnant and Mrs. Smith has had a difficult few days.”
“Have a seat,” the young man smiled. “It’s going to be a while. I’m sure he’d want you rested.”
The young people looked up at someone beyond the glass wall of the conference room. The young man held up a thumb. Samantha turned in her seat to look.
“Police Chief,” she said under her breath.
“Interim.” The Agent dragged a chair out from the table to cover his voice. “Mrs. Smith?”
Yvonne sat in the chair. He helped her lawyer into a chair next to her.
“I’ll stand,” he said.
“Suit yourself, you stupid fucker,” the young man laughed. The women chuckled.
“It’s going to be a while,” the woman closest to them said.
The Agent nodded in acquiescence.
“We don’t mind waiting,” Samantha said.
The young people’s attention turned to her. She gave them a bright smile. Yvonne looked from her lawyer’s smug smile to the young people’s confused faces. She glanced at the agent. He was staring straight ahead as if he was watching something outside the window. Yvonne swallowed hard.
“Anyone mind if I crochet?” She asked in her sweetest, most nonthreatening voice.
The young man gave her a “stupid woman” look. The young woman snorted a laugh and sat down across from her. The other woman gestured for her to go ahead.
Yvonne smiled. She took a ball of yarn and a crochet hook from the back pocket of her borrowed jeans. Humming a tuneless song, she joined her lawyer and the agent in their pretense.
She only hoped they knew what they were doing.
~~~~~~~~
Friday mid-day — 12:05 p.m.
Rodney leaned back in his chair and looked at Colin Hargreaves. So far, they had met a few detectives. A man came in from something called the National Security Agency. Another man came in from another agency, introduced himself and promptly left. Every hour or so, another set of people shuffled in and out of the room.
He’d tried to be patient.
He’d told himself it had really only been a couple of hours.
But the sinking feeling in his stomach said something was very wrong.
He’d felt this way before. In prison, he always knew when Aaron Alvin was coming to taunt him or when he was likely to be beaten or worse. As a child, growing up in the cotton fields of Alabama, he always knew when his father was
going to drink their wages or when to take his mother to NeNe’s house to hide from the old man’s rage. He had this very same feeling the night they’d come to get him for the murder he didn’t commit.
The sinking feeling came with the words his father said every time he dragged Rodney to the wood shed for a whooping:
“You ain’t nothing. You’ll never be nothing. You’re just a stupid pawn in another man’s game.”
Rodney wiped his brow with his handkerchief. His father’s voice was getting so loud he wondered if the lawyer and the agent could hear him.
And then he knew.
He had to get out of this room.
He’d spent many days and nights in solitary confinement. He knew this track to insanity. First, the sinking feeling brought his father’s voice to remind him that he was nothing. Then, as if they were lying right in front of him, he saw Aaron Alvin screwing his precious Yvonne while she screamed for his help. Then he lost his mind.
Standing from his seat, he went to the door and found it locked. He looked at Agent Hargreaves. He could tell by the dull look in the Agent’s eyes that the young man was reliving some nightmare of his own. He glanced at the lawyer. The young man looked confused and frustrated. Too young to know what to do, the boy had become uselessly overwhelmed.
It was up to Rodney to get them out of this situation.
He did the only thing he could think of. He picked up a chair and threw it at the mirrored window. The chair glanced off the glass. The window bowed but didn’t shatter.
“Give me your gun,” Rodney said.
“It’s bullet proof,” Colin licked his lips.
The agent was nearing full scale panic.
“At least now we know there’s no one on the other side,” Rodney said. “Empty your pockets.”
He and Colin put the contents of their pockets on the table. There was nothing useful there. He touched Daniel White’s shoulder.
“Son, can I take a look at what’s in your briefcase?” Rodney asked.
“There’s nothing. I have nothing. Not a damned thing. I . . . ”
Gold Hill Page 29