by Mason Dixon
The detective reached back, picked up the copy of her file, and rattled off a list of her past charges. “You’ve lied about everything else. Why should today be any different?”
“Look,” she said, sighing in frustration at her inability to escape her past. “We don’t have a lot of time. This thing is going down as we speak. My team works fast. They won’t be in the building a minute longer than they have to be, which means we need to stop jawing and get moving. If you think I’m lying, fine. But give me a chance to prove I’m not. Put a wire on me and follow me to the bank. My team is expecting me. My presence won’t come as a surprise. Yours would. Hang back and let me go inside alone.”
“Not a chance,” the detective said.
Destiny had expected one or all of them to balk at the suggestion. “If you bull your way inside guns blazing, you’ll wind up with a bloodbath on your hands. If you play it my way, everyone makes it out alive and you’ll have the FBI asking you for pointers.”
They responded to the ego stroking with the expected acquiescence. She could feel their icy demeanors begin to thaw so she turned up the heat.
“You’ll be able to hear every word I say. If it turns out I’m not telling anything but the God’s honest truth, slap the cuffs on me, toss me in jail, and throw away the key. Just don’t sit here and do nothing.”
Chief Wilson leaned back in his chair. “What do you want in return for coming forward with this information? Immunity?” He spread his hands to indicate his helplessness. “You need someone in the DA’s office to offer you that, not me. I’m a police officer, not a lawyer. It’s not my job to worry about sentencing. I put people in jail and let the guys in the expensive suits fight over how long they get to stay there.”
She had expected him to take the hard line. She hadn’t expected not to give a rat’s ass about it. “I don’t care about me.”
If she went to prison branded as a snitch, she’d have to sleep with one eye open and be prepared to fight at a moment’s notice. But every bruise would be worth it if it meant she could clear her name.
Chapter Twenty-three
Friday, March 17
8:15 a.m.
Savannah, GA
Destiny clenched her fists to keep from clawing at the wire. The adhesive tape the police technician had used to affix the recording device to her skin itched like a motherfucker.
The technician adjusted the fit of his headphones. “Say something so I can get a level on the microphone,” he said as he fiddled with the knobs on a bank of monitors in the surveillance van.
Destiny rolled her eyes. They’d already had two sound checks back at the station. “This is bullshit. We’re wasting time.”
“That came through loud and clear.” The technician laughed. “You’ve got a pretty big pair of balls. For your sake, I hope they aren’t just for show.” He signaled to the head of the tactical team readying to surround the building. “Okay, she’s up.”
Destiny hoped Harry hadn’t appointed anyone to act as lookout. Though they weren’t in uniform, the gathered hordes were easy to spot if you knew what you were looking for.
“Here’s the prop you requested.” Joe Shearouse, the detective who had been giving Destiny grief all morning, handed her a nine millimeter and a holster. “The firing pin’s been removed, so for your sake, I hope you don’t get the urge to play hero. In there or out here.”
Destiny cinched the holster to her belt and slid the nine into the suede-lined slot. The gun was heavier than she had expected it to be. Or was she feeling the weight of expectation instead of molded chrome and steel?
Her crew never performed a job armed with anything other than their tools and their wits. Ford was as big as a house. His presence provided all the intimidation they needed, and it didn’t come with a felony gun charge attached. But this job was different. If the situation inside the bank went sideways, she could wave the nine around and get everyone under control. The gun would allow her to get the upper hand. She hoped.
“I know what I’m doing.”
Shearouse herded her out of the van. “That remains to be seen.”
Chief Wilson broke free from a knot of plain clothes policemen dressed like St. Patrick’s Day revelers. Some wore T-shirts so profane they would have gotten a citizen arrested.
“Do you remember the code word?” Chief Wilson asked.
“Parade.”
Destiny had come up with the code word herself. It seemed like something she could fit into conversation without drawing too much attention. To be honest, it reminded her of the conversation she’d had with Rashida that morning. Was it the last conversation they would ever have?
“As soon as I hear you say, ‘parade,’ I’ll know you and the others are preparing to exit the building. When the doors open, my men will be waiting to take your team down.”
“Down, right? Not out.”
Chief Wilson looked at her coolly. “I’m not an executioner, Miss Jenkins. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt today. My men are trained professionals. They’ll take their cues from your friends. What happens today isn’t up to my people. It’s up to yours.”
“No,” Destiny said, “it’s up to me.”
She took a deep breath and crossed the street. Beads of sweat poured down her face as she unlocked the front door and stepped inside. The smell of smoke and scalded oil hung heavy in the air.
She expected to hear Harry urging on her team like a jockey leading her horse down the homestretch of the Kentucky Derby. The voice she heard instead made her blood run cold. The voice she heard was Rashida’s.
She pulled the door shut and locked it as quietly as she could. She nearly tripped over her own feet as she stumbled toward the lobby. What was Rashida doing here? She was supposed to be far, far away. She was supposed to be safe.
Rashida had her back to her. Her hands were fisted at her sides. “Who told you I was going to Springfield today?” Her voice shook with confusion, anger, and fear.
Harry flashed a menacing smile. “She did.”
Destiny’s knees nearly buckled when Rashida turned toward her. She forced herself to face the recrimination she saw in Rashida’s eyes.
Rashida backed away, betrayal etched on her face. “Please tell me you’re not in on this. Please tell me everything we had wasn’t a lie.”
Destiny tried to keep her emotions in check as Harry secured Rashida in a bear hug. She ignored her protective instincts, which were urging her to swat Harry like the pesky fly she had become. She couldn’t afford to make an enemy out of Harry just yet. She needed her to go on believing they were on the same side. She needed to be convincing, even though she had lost faith in the original mission.
She pulled the gun. As she’d hoped, Rashida’s eyes drifted from her face to the barrel of the nine.
“I asked you not to go to work today. You should have listened to me.”
“I don’t understand.” The tears that filled Rashida’s eyes revealed she understood all too well. “What’s happening, Destiny?”
“That’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” Harry asked. “Your girlfriend and I are going to take a long vacation and you’ll be left trying to explain why you allowed your clit to do your thinking for you. You’re an articulate girl. I’m sure you’ll come up with something good, though I doubt it will be good enough to save your job. After the bank absorbs a two and a half million dollar loss, heads will surely roll. Yours will undoubtedly be the first.”
Rashida’s chin quivered briefly, but she maintained her composure. “Why would you do this to the bank? To your parents? To me? What have I ever done to you?”
“You took my place.”
Harry pushed Rashida down with such force the chair she landed in rolled several feet away. Harry placed her hands on the arms of the chair and leaned forward, forcing Rashida to give ground.
Destiny wanted to run to Rashida’s defense, but forced herself to stay put.
“This bank has been in my family for years,” Harry sa
id. “I’m supposed to run it one day, not you. Yet everyone from my mother to Ted Hollis and even Martin fucking Foster wants to anoint you as the heir to the throne. After today, I doubt you’ll be able to get a job as a trash collector in this town, let alone as CEO.” She straightened as if she thought she had made her point. The look on her face was triumphant. “Did you enjoy the pictures? You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself in them, that’s for sure. Consider them a gift from me to you.”
Destiny watched Rashida’s face fall. Her heart fell right along with it. She wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t. Her hands shook as she trained the gun in Harry and Rashida’s direction.
“You were responsible for the photographs?”
Rashida’s question was directed at Destiny not Harry. Destiny’s answer, however, was meant for Harry’s ears. “Smile for the camera.”
The dam finally broke. Rashida’s tears fell unabated. “I trusted you,” she said, her voice choked. “I loved you.”
The words Destiny had been waiting her whole life to hear had come too late. Or had they? She still had a chance to redeem herself. She still had a chance to win Rashida back. After she finished breaking her heart.
She looked in the vault. Both the safe and safe deposit boxes were nearly empty. “How much longer are you going to be?” she asked her team.
“We’re almost done,” Ford said, stuffing stacks of strapped bills into the last of four identically sized duffel bags lined up on the floor of the vault. He zipped the bags shut and tossed each into the lobby. Then he reached for a fifth bag. He hefted it easily, even though the bag’s contents strained against the reinforced material keeping it secure. “Do you want me to carry it for you?”
“No, thanks.” Harry took the bag from him and draped the straps over her shoulder. She staggered under the weight of the gold bars inside the duffel.
“Suit yourself,” Ford said with a shrug.
He tossed one of the other bags toward Destiny. The duffel landed on the floor and slid across the smooth marble surface. Destiny halted the bag’s progress with her foot but didn’t make a move to pick it up. She kept her eyes trained on Rashida.
“What do you want to do with her?” Ford asked. “I don’t want to leave any witnesses.” He looked Rashida up and down in a way that made Destiny fear for her safety.
“I’ll take care of her.”
“Take care of her how?” Harry glanced at Destiny’s gun. “I want her alive. I want her to suffer.”
“She already is.” Destiny quickly corrected herself. “I mean, she will.” Destiny could feel her own heart bleeding. She swallowed around the catch in her throat. “You brought me in to handle the rough stuff, Harry. Let me do my job. You’ll be home in time to watch the parade.”
Her adrenaline surged as she used the code word. She hoped the police officers gathered outside would have cooler heads than she did at the moment. If not, things could get ugly in a hurry.
“Screw the parade. I’ve got a plane to catch. We’ve got a plane to catch.” Harry gave Destiny a bruising kiss, a gesture more about power and control than affection. A gesture meant more for Rashida’s benefit than Destiny’s pleasure. “I’ll see you at the airport.”
Destiny wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”
Harry remained vague, lending more credence to Destiny’s theory that Harry was stringing her along. “You’ll find out when we get there.” She tapped two fingers against her forehead in a mock salute. “So long, Rashida. It’s been a pleasure.”
“You’ll never get away with this.”
“Such a moribund cliché is beneath you, Rashida.” Harry patted her duffel bag, reminding everyone of the fortune inside. “Besides, I’ve already gotten away with it.”
She, Ford, and the others headed to the door. Each carried a bag laden with loot. Destiny picked up her own bag, then reached down, grabbed Rashida’s elbow, and pulled her to her feet. Rashida tried to jerk away, but Destiny tightened her grip. “Trust me,” she said under her breath.
“You’d have better luck trying to walk on water.”
“Please, Rashida,” Destiny begged in a fierce whisper. “Trust me. Stick close. Don’t leave my side, no matter what.”
Rashida lost a bit of defiance. Hope flickered in her eyes. Destiny could see how desperately she wanted to believe her. To believe in her. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I will in due time.” Destiny holstered the gun and led Rashida toward the door. Rashida yelped when Destiny wrapped an arm around her neck. “Shh. It’s all right. I swear everything I’m doing is just for show.” She patted the gun at her side. “Even this is a prop. Everything’s going to be okay as soon as we go out that door. Just keep your head down and do everything I tell you to do. Can you do that?”
After a moment’s pause, Rashida slowly nodded.
“Good.”
Ford peered through the blinds. “I’ve never seen so much green in my life. And I’m not talking about money.” He looked back with a grin. “Well, maybe that, too.”
Through the parted blinds, Destiny could see dozens of people in green-accented outfits milling around. Were they members of the tactical team or were they simply spectators descending on Bay Street for the events to come?
“If you think you’re seeing green now, wait until the parade starts.”
Destiny had used the code word twice. Surely she had given the police plenty of time to move into position. If not, the shit was about to hit the fan. How was she supposed to stop her crew before they scattered?
Evidently deciding the coast was clear, Ford unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. “After you.” Bowing low, he allowed Harry to exit first.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
Harry sidestepped Ford’s bulk and crossed the threshold. Ford followed. Destiny tensed, expecting them to be swarmed right away. Nathan and Walsh exited the bank next. Still nothing.
“I love you. Never forget that.” Destiny kissed the back of Rashida’s neck and gently urged her forward. “Here we go.”
Destiny had barely walked out the door when ten police officers formed a semi-circle around the bank’s entrance, pulled their guns, and yelled, “Show us your hands! Down on the ground!”
Ford and Walsh looked like they wanted to beat feet, but they wisely dropped their duffels, raised their hands in surrender, and lay facedown on the sidewalk. Cursing under his breath, Nathan followed suit.
Rashida remained standing. “Get down,” Destiny whispered.
“But I’m not—”
“Get down.” Destiny kneeled on the sidewalk, hands upraised, and slowly lowered herself to the ground. “The cops will sort out the good guys from the bad guys later.”
Rashida lay on the sidewalk with her arms stretched in front of her. She turned to face Destiny, lifting her head so they could see eye-to-eye. “Are you working with the police?”
Before Destiny could answer, Ford gave her a malevolent look and launched a gob of spit in her direction. Destiny flinched when the saliva landed inches from her face. “Snitches end up in ditches, DJ,” Ford said with a glare.
“Officers, I’m so glad you’ve come,” Harry said. “These…thugs have been holding me against my will.” She dropped the bag of gold bars on the ground but remained on her feet. She took a step toward the officers as she tried to plead her case. “Do you remember the incident we had yesterday? Our elevator caught fire and we had to call nine one one. When I came to supervise the repair work, these people forced me inside and—”
“Stop right there!” one of the officers barked. “Down on the ground!”
“Young man, I’m sure you’re just doing your job, but do you have any idea who I am? Do you know who my parents are?”
Harry probably paid more in taxes than most of the police personnel surrounding her took home, but neither her money nor her family name could buy her out of this one.
Joe Shearouse d
angled a set of handcuffs from the tip of one finger. “I know exactly who you are. Your name’s Harrison Revere Collins, and you’re under arrest for attempted robbery and kidnapping. I’m sure your parents will be proud.” He spun her around, read her her rights, and fastened the handcuffs around her wrists. Harry hissed as the manacles bit into her skin. “Too tight?”
“Yes, they are.”
She lifted her hands as if she expected Shearouse to loosen the cuffs. He took her by the elbow and led her to a nearby squad car.
“You should have thought of that before you decided to commit a felony. Watch your head.” He shoved her in the back of the car and slammed the door.
Harry’s face looked ghostly white through the tinted glass windows. Destiny couldn’t enjoy the sight for long. Four officers cuffed her and her crew and lifted them to their feet while spectators’ cell phones recorded every moment for posterity.
Chief Wilson offered Rashida his hand. She stood and brushed herself off. Her clothes were covered in dirt and grime. One side of her face was pitted from lying on the debris-strewn sidewalk. Her eyes sparkled from adrenaline. Destiny had never seen her look more beautiful.
“Miss Ivey, I’m Chief Keith Wilson. I need you to come down to the station and make a statement. After we hear your side of the story, you should be free to go in a matter of hours. My car’s across the street if you need a ride.”
“I have my own car, thank you, Chief.”
“I’ll gladly bring you back to your vehicle when we’re done.”
Rashida nodded as if she understood the visit she was about to have wasn’t going to be as friendly as Chief Wilson had initially made it out to be.
“What about her?” she asked, indicating Destiny.
“I’m afraid Miss Jenkins will be staying with us a great deal longer than you will.”
Rashida swiped at a pebble imbedded in her cheek. “Jenkins? You mean Jackson, don’t you? You must have her mistaken for someone else. Her name’s Destiny. Destiny Jackson.”
“No, I’m afraid there’s no mistake. Her name is DaShawn Jenkins. She’s a con artist from Miami. Destiny Jackson is the latest of her many aliases. I’m sorry if you were taken in by her, but if you were, you aren’t the first. If her sentence is long enough, however, perhaps you’ll be the last.”