“I’ll be wanting this back,” she said, holding onto the grip of the pistol a little longer than necessary, forcing Rex to tug it from her hand.
He slipped the Glock and the clip in his coat pocket, sneering at Rainey. “Saw your boy, Bobo, down the block a ways. I used to think it was stupid of you to continue that relationship, but I see now that keeping an eye on him is easier when he’s still on the payroll. Maybe I ought to chat with him. See if he’s ready to clear his conscience.”
Rainey smirked back at the man that was at least three inches shorter than her height of five-feet-ten-inches. “Well, if you find him, tell him I want to see him, too. He gave us bad intel on this job. That’s why we’re in this mess.”
“Sure, blame your screw-up on the lackey,” Rex began, and would have continued had Wiley Trainer not interrupted.
“Rex, I need you to go to that house down there with the red car in the driveway. You’ll find the rest of the Upshaw family there. I need statements from everyone that was in the house when the shot was fired.”
Wiley Trainer had been around a long time, was well respected, and outranked Detective King by a bunch.
“Yes, Captain,” Rex answered, leaving immediately to do Wiley’s bidding.
When she was sure Rex was out of earshot, Rainey turned to Wiley. “Thank you. I’m not sure how much more of King Squared I could take tonight.”
Wiley’s lips hinted a sly smile. “Took those statements myself, before we let them go in the neighbor’s house to keep the kids warm.” He paused to rub his chin. “Never hurts to get the story twice though, does it?”
Rainey returned his impish grin. “No, it sure doesn’t. I think that was very wise of you.”
Wiley then turned his attention to the problem at hand. “I see you have your vest. You go ahead and put that on while I fill you in.”
Rainey pulled off the black leather jacket protecting her from the cold night air, feeling the chill immediately. Wiley held out his hand to take it from her.
“Take good care of this,” she said, handing the coat over. “Katie gave it to me for Christmas. She’ll be mad if I lose it.”
Wiley examined the coat. “Nice. I’ll put it in my car. Wouldn’t want that pretty little wife of yours to be upset with you.”
Wiley was one of the few cops that spoke openly to Rainey about her wife and kids. He was definitely one of her favorite people in the Durham County Sheriff’s Office. Of course, Katie had sufficiently charmed Wiley when he spoke at the battered women’s shelter run by her foundation. Rainey’s wife charmed everyone she met. She had charmed Rainey right into marrying her in the New York City Clerk’s Office and raising three kids.
With thoughts of the triplets and Katie in her head, Rainey pulled the Velcro straps on her vest extra tight, while following Wiley to his car. He was the same age as Mackie and had been a young deputy when Billy Bell started writing bonds back in the seventies. He called those days the wild times and shared stories with Rainey about her father. She trusted him. His white hair foretold of his impending retirement, a day she hated to see come. Her world was changing on a daily basis, with old friends moving on to the golden years of their lives. As much as Rainey disliked changes, she had to face the fact that life was a long series of adapting to them.
Wiley talked as they walked. “When you go in the front door, she’ll be on your right. We got a heat signature camera on the house. She hasn’t moved. Still sitting in a chair in the front corner, holding a baby. Her daughter is on the couch. You’ll be behind her when you enter. The toddler is moving about, so I can’t tell you where she’ll be at any given moment. She appears to be having a good time, which is good. Means everyone is calm in there.”
“Where is Mackie?” Rainey asked.
“He’s on the floor by those two big windows there, head pointed toward us.” Wiley pointed at the house with his free hand, while he tossed Rainey’s coat in the front seat of his car and continued to the command vehicle parked directly in front of Maybelline’s house. “I’d prefer not sending you in there, but I’ve known Maybelline a long time too. I don’t think she’ll hurt you, Rainey. She’s upset about shooting Mackie. She just wants someone, specifically you, to tell her that Jacquie’s disappearance will be investigated.”
Junior rushed forward, flanked by three other young muscular men. He was nearly as tall as his uncle, but with the body of a trained athlete. Rainey barely knew the other three men wearing the Bell’s Bail logo on the collars of their black mock turtlenecks. She really had stepped far away from the business. It seemed Junior and Mackie had come prepared with plenty of bodies to take Maybelline down. Rainey nodded at her employees, who were still pumped with adrenaline and wide-eyed.
“Evening, gentlemen,” Rainey greeted them.
“Rainey, I’m so sorry,” Junior said.
Rainey could see the worry in his eyes, for both her and Mackie. She reassured him. “It’s going to be fine, Junior. It’s not your fault.”
“Junior, Mackie’s wife is on the phone.” A woman with a distinct military bearing handed a cell phone to him. She turned to Rainey. “Sorry to get you out of bed, boss.”
“No problem, Gunny. Couldn’t be helped,” Rainey replied to retired Marine Gunnery Sergeant Naomi Pierce, the newest member of her staff.
Since Rainey was no longer actively picking up skips, they needed another woman for the female fugitive recoveries. Gunny, as she instructed everyone to call her, had twenty-four years in the Marines, before a roadside bomb upended the transport she was in, causing a head injury. The resulting migraines ended her active duty status, so when she came looking for a job last spring, Rainey hired her to work security part-time at the women’s shelter. Liking what she saw, and in need of a female runner, Rainey asked Gunny to become licensed for the bond business and hired her full-time.
Runners were what the rest of the world called bounty hunters, a term frowned upon and illegal in the state of North Carolina. A runner had to be licensed and employed by a single bondsman. No freelance fugitive recovery was allowed. Gunny took the test and was in her sixth month of the mandatory year of supervised recovery, with Rainey or Mackie required to oversee her activities. Gunny also began helping Ernie in the office, learning the business from the old pro. The hard-bodied, forty-five-year-old Gunny was five-feet-seven inches of lean muscle. She had a salt and pepper Marine haircut and the “Oorah” attitude to go with it.
Gunny focused her eyes on Rainey. “You watch your six in there.”
Wiley motioned toward a technician from the SWAT team. “Rainey, I want you to wear a microphone and an earbud, so I can hear and talk to you.”
Rainey held up one finger. “Wait just a second.” She stepped over to Junior, who was trying to calm Mackie’s wife, Thelma. She motioned for the phone. “Let me talk to her.”
Rainey heard crying as soon as she had the receiver to her ear. She kept her voice calm. “Thelma, it’s Rainey. Call your sister and meet us at Memorial Hospital. I’m going in to get him now. It’s going to be all right.”
“You bring him out of there, Rainey Bell. Don’t you let anything happen to my Mackie.”
“We’ll be out of there in no time. You just get to the hospital.”
Thelma sniffled, adding, “You be safe, too, Rainey.”
“Always, Thelma, always.”
#
Equipped with microphone, earbud, and bathed in the bright lights set up by the SWAT team, Rainey strolled up the crumbling concrete walkway toward Maybelline’s front door. Two officers in full assault gear and carrying MP5 submachine guns flanked her on either side. Other tactical team members moved in her peripheral vision, assuming positions for a forced entry Rainey hoped would not be necessary.
Her escorts fanned out on both sides of the door as she shouted, “Maybelline, it’s Rainey. I’m coming in.”
Rainey placed her hand on the doorknob and whispered to the SWAT guys, “Wish me luck.”
The one
on her right smiled up at her from his crouched position, tapping his headset with one finger. “We have your back. Just say the word.”
Rainey turned the handle and pushed the door open. A toddler, sporting two frizzy pigtails captured with large pink plastic barrettes, emerged from the room on the right. She eyed Rainey up and down and then went screaming back out of sight, causing a stirring in the adjacent room.
“It’s just me, Maybelline. Nobody else is with me and I am not armed. I’m coming in.”
Rainey took two steps forward and then turned to behold Maybelline Upshaw, as she unfolded her considerable body from the chair in the far corner. Maybelline was the largest woman with whom Rainey had ever occupied the same space. She was six-feet-three-inches of thick muscle encased in blanket of fat, and weighed more than three hundred pounds, all of it topped with a mound of frizzy red hair. No one messed with Maybelline, who had grown up on the streets an unwanted, mixed-race child. Had a kind-hearted soul like Katie stumbled on the young troubled girl, things might have turned out differently for Maybelline.
She was smart enough to get herself and her growing family off the street. Toughened by life and cruel men, she built a small empire, raised three daughters, sent two sons to the penitentiary, and ended more than one confrontation with her opponent in the hospital. Even the gangs in her neighborhood left Miss Maybelline alone. She and her two sons moved large quantities of medical grade marijuana from the Pacific Northwest into the hands of upscale dealers, who paid dearly to keep those hands squeaky clean. The gangs were not interested in her clientele, but the law was. That was the very reason Maybelline’s sons were in prison, with their mother to follow shortly. Rainey had to give the ol’ girl credit. That clientele list was a hell of a bargaining chip and Maybelline had yet to roll over on the khaki pants-wearing, button-down-collared, uptown crowd she provided with the finest weed.
She also had a laugh that could fill an entire room and a sense of humor Rainey enjoyed the few times they were together. Maybelline showed Rainey her soft side on occasion, usually when talking about making life better for her grandkids. This was not going to be one of those instances. Tonight, Maybelline stared back at Rainey, eyes wild. The mountain of a woman pulled the baby she was holding tighter against her chest. The little girl, so small in comparison to the meaty arms that held her, smiled up at her grandmother, masking the danger with innocent gurgles and squeals.
“About time”—cough—“you got here,” a voice rumbled from the floor, followed by a fit of hacking, obviously painful coughs.
Rainey took a step toward Mackie, but stopped when Maybelline aimed an extremely large handgun at her face.
“Stop right there,” Maybelline said.
Angeline, the daughter who was comforting the terrified, sniveling toddler, stood up from the couch, placing herself in Maybelline’s line of fire. “Momma, you’re not shooting anybody else. Rainey came to help you. Now, put down that gun.”
Rainey could see how much pain Mackie was in and how he was struggling to take a complete breath. She could also see that Maybelline was tired and had no intention of shooting her. She was a woman in pain, a mother’s pain, and she only wanted to know what happened to her child. Maybelline wanted someone else to care. She had carried that burden alone long enough. Rainey knew what she had to do and seized the moment of Angeline’s distraction to start toward Mackie again, this time announcing her intentions.
“Shoot me if you want, Maybelline, but I won’t be able to find out what happened to Jacqueline if you do. I’m going to take care of Mackie first, and then you and I are going to work the rest of this out. Just know if you do decide to fire that gun again, those SWAT guys outside your door are going to be in here pretty quick. You’re cornered, Maybelline. Let me help you make a graceful exit. Okay?”
By the time she finished speaking, Rainey was on her knees at Mackie’s side. She looked up at Maybelline, who lowered her weapon and returned to her seat in the corner.
Rainey pulled Mackie’s jacket back to look at his chest. His vest had a hole in it where the bullet entered, and the ceramic plate was caved in. He probably had broken ribs, if not worse.
“How you doin’, big guy?” She asked, while taking his pulse. It was rapid, his skin cool and clammy. She needed to get him out of there fast.
He answered, through ragged breaths, “Broke—ribs.”
“I don’t suppose you can walk. It’s going to take some big guys to put you on a gurney.”
Mackie attempted to sit up. “I—crawled out—of the—jungle—with your—daddy—”
Rainey put her hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him back to the floor. “I know, I know. Stop talking. You’re going on a stretcher, no argument.”
Maybelline sat up on the edge of her chair, baby on one knee, pistol on the other. “You are one crazy white girl. Come in here without a gun, just gonna take charge.”
Rainey smiled at the colossal woman, large enough to snap her like a twig. “And you, my friend, are one crazy dope-dealing grandma, but I got to hand it to you—you wanted attention, you got it. Jacqueline Upshaw is now the most famous missing person in the Triangle.”
Maybelline smiled back. “Go on, get him out of here, then you and me gonna talk.”
Rainey stood up. “Okay, we’ll do that. May I have permission to ask those two SWAT guys outside the door to come help put Mackie on a stretcher? I’ll ask them to leave their weapons out there.”
Angeline switched from helping to hindering. “Momma, don’t let them come in here. It could be a trick.”
This request worried Maybelline, causing Rainey to intervene quickly. “Look, why don’t you and I go back there and sit at the kitchen table? Let Mackie and Angeline leave with the children.”
Angeline continued to warn her mother. “What’s going to stop them from coming in here and shooting you, if we all leave?”
Maybelline smiled at her daughter and held out the baby for her to take. “That’s al’right, Angeline. Go on. Take Jacquie’s baby and little Tara and go on outside. I got me a FBI agent for a hostage now. Ain’t nobody gonna come in here guns a-blazin’.”
Rainey nodded her head. “She’s right, all except I’m not an agent anymore, but I’m still worth a good couple of hours of hostage negotiation before they finally figure out who they’ll blame if they get me killed.”
Wiley’s voice came through the earbud. “Tell her you’ll send paramedics.”
Rainey chuckled. “You better send big ones.”
“What?” Angeline asked.
Rainey pointed at her ear. “They are talking to me from outside. They can hear us too. They want to know if paramedics would be more acceptable than the SWAT guys? Really, no one wants this to go any further. Let’s get you all outside and let me talk to your mother. I promise no harm will come to her.”
Maybelline moved toward the kitchen, dangling the gun at her side. Rainey took that as a sign her suggested course of action had been approved.
She spoke clearly so everyone, including Wiley, could hear and understand. “Stand down. Send in only the paramedics. A woman, a baby, and a toddler are exiting the house. I’m going to stay here with Maybelline for a bit. I’ll let you know when we’re coming out. Did you get all that, Wiley?”
“Yeah, I got it. Sending in the paramedics now. I’m sending four, if that’s okay?”
Rainey looked down at Mackie and then toward the kitchen, watching as Maybelline placed the gun on the table and sat down, defeated, and at the same time victorious.
“Send them on in,” she said into the lapel microphone under the edge of her vest. She leaned down and patted Mackie’s shoulder. “They’re coming to get you now. Don’t give them too much shit, all right?” She reached to squeeze his hand. “I love you, you know. Named a kid after you. So, you hang in there. I’ll be at the hospital as soon as I can.”
He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “Tell Thelma—”
“She�
�s already on her way to the hospital,” Rainey said, answering what she thought was his request.
Mackie shook his head a little from side to side, and with difficulty said, “Bring pajamas—no hospital—gown.”
Rainey chuckled. “Okay, no gown. You hear that, Wiley? Tell Junior he better have some PJs for the big man or there will be hell to pay.”
She heard Wiley laugh in her ear. “Will do, Rainey. Send Angeline and the kids out.”
Rainey motioned to Angeline to move on out the door. She hesitated, looking toward the kitchen at her mother.
Rainey said softly, “Go on now. Get those kids out of here. I’ll take care of your mother.”
“You know, she’s not a bad woman, Rainey. She just had a hard life. Jacquie was her hope. She cleaned up after she got pregnant with Halle.” Angeline indicated the baby in her arms. “Jacquie was smart, going to college, going to break the cycle of poverty she said. She didn’t walk off and leave her baby. Momma just wants somebody to look for her.”
Rainey knew better than to promise results, but she could make one pledge. “I will use every resource at my disposal to find out what happened to your sister. I will be honest with you and your mother. If she’s been gone this long, the chances of Jacquie being alive are very slim.”
A tear fell down Angeline’s cheek. She kissed the baby on the forehead, before saying, “We knew that when she didn’t come home. If Jacquie was alive, she would have come back for Halle. She was a good momma.”
Rainey looked down at the child, knowing that she would spend her very last breath attempting to get back to her own. She reached out to twine one of the baby’s fine curls around the end of her finger.
“I’ll find out what happened, Angeline.”
She let the curl drop and started toward the kitchen as Angeline and the children exited. The paramedics entered the door and went to work on Mackie.
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