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“That’s what I’d like to think. When I learned somebody had been in her place Friday night, I thought all kinds of things. I could see just how much she meant to me. I should have admitted it then. I should have told her. Now…I can’t lose her, Frankie. I think of her suffering and I hurt. Physically hurt. I can’t even imagine what I would feel if I lose her this way.”
“Are there any leads at all?”
“Sort of. Skip said she left work and went to Mama Rose’s. Somebody is trying to
make Mama Rose sell her place. Chelsea was pretty upset about it. Mama Rose told Chelsea’s friend Dee they had discussed the situation and she had fixed a plate for Chelsea to take home.
Her things are there in her house. Purse. Phone. She was there. A neighbor saw her leave in her car with a man. The woman said she watches Chelsea because she wants my autograph for her nephew. She looked out from her window and then went closer. I guess it was a large man, but the woman said she quickly saw it wasn’t me, and didn’t bother getting a better look. She’s out there somewhere with this animal, and I’m stuck here. I feel so helpless. Feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“Try and stay calm. That’s all you can do for her now. Was this neighbor able to
give any kind of description? Clothing? Anything?”
“Not really. She said the man was large and dressed in blue, like some kind of
uniform. Somebody left threats on her windshield and let the air out of her tires. If that wasn’t enough, they came into her house. There didn’t appear to be forced entry. Chelsea remembered leaving a key in the light fixture by the front door but it was gone. I don’t think she took it seriously. If she did, she didn’t want us to know.”
“Baby, there’s something I want to say to you, but you have to be prepared to hear it. Okay?”
Frankie used the tone that always earned his attention. She had used it to tell him she was getting married. Feeling his heart drop, he tried to prepare. “Okay. What is it?”
“We don’t know why this man kidnapped Chelsea. No one has any ideas about
her fate. I’m praying you’ll get a chance to tell her how you feel. I believe that will happen.
Isaac, you have to be ready to deal with things you may not want to face. This man could have raped her. God only knows what else. You have to be prepared to help her deal with the emotional aftermath of this ordeal. Can you do that?”
“The first thing on my mind is getting her back. Yes, I’ve thought of every
possibility. Thought of it until I feel my brains will explode. Just knowing this maniac touched her is enough to send me over the edge. No matter what else has happened, I’ll be there for her.
If…when I see her, I plan to tell her everything. How much I love her. I want her to know everything.”
“I’ll leave that up to you. I just want you to be happy.”
They talked the way they had when they were younger. Baring their souls and taking comfort in knowing the other cared.
“Hey, the plane just arrived. It’s a connecting flight, so I should be boarding soon. I’ll call you when I get there.”
The flight was just long enough for Isaac to replay every memorable second he
had spent with Chelsea, to think of the horror she was enduring, and to relearn something he had almost forgotten—how to pray.
On his usual road trips with the team, he never left his vehicle at the airport, but was glad to know it was waiting when he arrived this time. With no luggage, he hurried off the plane and into the parking lot. Careful not to exceed the speed limit, he drove into the city, only vaguely aware of his surroundings.
He prayed for a chance to give Chelsea the love she deserved. He knew Frankie loved him and he loved her. Even without Chelsea, he doubted he and Frankie could return to the relationship they once shared. He regretted being unavailable to give them another chance, but knew he could not. His feelings for Chelsea were overpowering. Thinking of her being abused by some maniac only made him more determined to show her how deeply he cared. He prayed she was not harmed, but if there were an extra cross to shoulder, he would do it, as long as she came back in his arms.
Every tragedy of his life unfolded before him. He remembered the day his family
received word of his father’s death. He remembered holding his mother while his younger brothers gathered around. That had been the single most profound moment of his life.
Afterwards, when the crowd disappeared, he realized that, at eleven, he was expected to stand next to his mother in a position of leadership. The younger children had looked to him for guidance and had followed his cue. If he was upset, they became upset as well. Knowing this, he seldom allowed his feelings to show. Even when panic conquered his heart, he maintained a brave façade.
He silently vowed to stand by Frankie during her troubles just as he had stood by
his mother. Though her financial status was vastly superior, Frankie now faced the task of raising her boys without their father, just as his mother had done. She would need him.
At that moment, he wanted very much to call his mother, but knew a phone call so early in the morning would only frighten her. He knew she liked Chelsea. Because he spoke with or visited his mother every day since leaving for college, most of the women he dated had met her.
Chelsea was the only one she suggested he marry. Now he prayed to have that chance.
He drove through the French Quarter, trying to remember the through streets from
the ones that were blocked for foot traffic. Tourists milled around in droves, even in the wee hours of the morning. After finding a parking space three blocks away, he ran past the cars and unlocked Chelsea’s door. David Porter was the first one he saw.
“Any word?” He looked at Chelsea’s mother and then back to David, who slowly shook his head. The suffering on her mother’s face was heartbreaking. Once again, he knew he could not release his fright.
“Mama Constantine and Dee have been looking through the house to see if anything is out of order or missing,” David told him. “They know the house better than anyone else.”
Thinking David must have seen the hurt in his eyes, Isaac turned when he added, “Take a look around before we leave. I’m sure you know how she kept things.”
He walked past Chelsea’s mother and went upstairs to the bedroom. It was their room.
The place where they belonged only to each other. Everything seemed the same. The bed where they held each other. Her desk by the window. Two large, upholstered chairs. He picked up her robe from one of them, crumpled the fabric and held it to his chest. His eyes closed and she was there, pressed against him. Her scent. The wildness and sweetness he knew he would never find in another woman.
Startled by a gentle touch on his arm, he looked down into her mother’s eyes and realized he had been standing there for quite awhile. His face was wet. His heart was crumbling in his chest. “I was…I—”
“There’s no need to explain.” Mrs. Constantine’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s okay. Just let it out.”
“I left when she needed me most. I’ll never forgive myself if…” Unable to finish, he allowed himself to be gloved in a mother’s arms.
“There is no way you could have known this would happen. Just pray she’s not harmed.”
David came into the room. “Skip and Dee didn’t find anything missing. I guess you
didn’t either.”
“You have to find her, man.” He grabbed David’s arm. “I know there are other cops
working on this, but you know her. You love her, too. I saw it on your face. You have to bring her back to us. When you do, don’t bother to arrest the scum who did this. He’s mine.”
“You’re right. I do love her, and I know how you feel, but you have to let us deal with this…” He looked at Mrs. Constantine. “We’ll handle it. I promise. We’re doing everything we can to get her back, but you have to let us do this our way. This man will be punished. That’s a
promise.”
“And I know you mean that, but you’re the law. You have to be fair. I don’t.”
David ran to open the door and stood talking with another officer. There was no
relief on his face when he returned. “We’ve checked the whole area. Nothing. The phones are bugged. We’ve got cameras all over. Everyone’s phones are bugged, including your home phone, Mama Constantine. I’m sure this is not a random kidnapping, and since they didn’t take anything, not even her purse filled with credit cards and about $300.00, it’s not about money.”
Isaac’s eyes filled with rage. “That leaves us with only one motive. The same
emotion I now feel for the creep who did this. Revenge. What about Mama Rose’s restaurant?”
“Could be. I’ve suggested we all go there and wait. We already have officers in
place. Transfer all phones to your cells and we’ll wait this out together.”
* * * *
Chelsea saw the sky lighten through the uncovered window behind her and felt
the agony of being in one position all night. After another closely guarded trip to the bathroom, Ray’s had tried to accommodate her sleeping needs by allowing her to stretch out on the foot of the bed. Her hands were then secured lower on the bedpost. She had kept her face tucked into the collar of her blouse where the faint scent of Samsara helped defuse the stench of her surroundings.
She had hoped for a little rest but the areas between her fingers began itching just as Ray had started to snore. She immediately knew what was happening and imagined her face had turned beet red. It was hives. It happened when she was extremely upset.
She watched Ray’s labored breathing. In sleep, his face was filled with innocence and fear. She thought of everything in her attempt to make sense of the situation. She thought of Curtis Hamilton and the outpouring of support he had received. Just getting an indictment had been difficult. The victim’s brain activity had changed twice, causing the doctors to upgrade her condition. Victims’ right groups demanded action. Supporters of Curtis Hamilton wanted a quick trial, and to have the stigma lifted from the gifted young man’s name.
Mary and Otis Hamilton were hard working Christians who lived well. That fact had
been underscored in just about every news article regarding the trial. Ranking high on the comment list were various imprecise inferences to the improbability of a “fine young man”
having a relationship with a woman of Barbara Colbert’s character. One reporter noted that even if the young man desired the services of a hooker, they were available in all shapes and sizes.
Another had spoken with Hamilton’s girlfriend and shook her head.
Barbara was thirty-nine, had shoplifting convictions and was a known drug abuser. Her family had left the city after Katrina. No one knew how she and Curtis met. Chelsea did not believe his story of hearing a noise and going in the trees behind the park to investigate.
Witnesses had seen his running away from, not into the bushes.
The phone in Ray’s pocket rang. He sat up and grabbed the pistol.
“Good morning, RayRay. I enjoyed watching you sleep. At least one of us is rested.”
He looked at the phone, mumbled and placed it back in his pocket. It was then he noticed her face and started backing away.
“Don’t worry. It’s a condition I have. I need my medication.”
He regarded her with curiosity and she watched him lace his gym shoes. The task seemed especially difficult.
From the window she could only see the roof of the drycleaners, littered with broken bottles, and providing no means of escape. She had worked against the bindings on her wrists until she felt blood on the scratchy fabric of what she thought was a man’s necktie. Ray had promised his mother he would go to work, but she knew mentioning his job would probably infuriate him. He seemed rather calm compared to the prior evening.
She heard footsteps on the stairs. Heavy and loud. Her body remained still but her mind roamed frantically, praying for a chance to alert someone of her unwilling presence. When the footsteps neared the door, she prepared to scream, but Ray had heard them too. Jerking upright, he pointed the pistol at her head.
“Don’t say a word. Remember, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you try to
pull something over on me.”
“Hey, RayRay!” A man’s voice was accompanied by a pounding fist on the door.
“Ray! I know you’re in there, so you’d better answer.”
His eyes became wild and frightened. His fingers closed tightly on the handle of
the gun. “Yeah!”
“Mr. Ryan said he thought you had company. Do you have someone in there with
a blue BMW? It’s blocking the delivery van. You gotta’ move it now.”
Chelsea’s keys with the Xavier University key chain had been tossed on the floor.
She thought quickly. He had to leave to move her car. The bindings on her wrists felt loose enough to move her hands. Even without the help of the man at the door, she could escape.
Jumping from the window onto the roof of the cleaners was the best option.
“Yeah! All right! In a minute!”
“Now, RayRay! My driver needs to leave with a delivery. Besides that, the car is
parked by the fire hydrant. I’m surprised it hasn’t been towed away. Come move it. Now!”
“Okay, I said!” He looked at her and moved the barrel of the pistol closer to her
head. “We gonna’ walk out of here and you ain’t doing nothin’ but what I tell you to do. Get cute and I’ll put a bullet through her brains.”
During the night, her fear had given way to anger. The voice of survival told her
to make a move. “Move it yourself. Then you won’t have to worry about what I do.” Shaking inside, she glared defiantly and watched him take a box cutter from the table.
“I see you been tryin’ to get loose, huh?” He cut the restraints.
“I was trying to find a way to spend an entire night with my hands bound to the
damn bedpost. If you think it’s easy, lay your ass here and let me tie you up. I’m not taking orders anymore. You want the car moved, you move it.” She braced for the jolt and closed her eyes just as his open hand made contact with her left cheekbone.
“You wanna’ make me hurt you? I said let’s go!”
Tasting blood, she called upon every ounce of resolve still remaining within her,
spat, and looked into his fiery eyes. “Go your damn self! I’m sure by now someone has discovered I’ve been kidnapped, and they’re looking for my car. It’s just a matter of time. I don’t know who you are or why you’re doing this, but I can’t take it anymore. You want the car moved, go move it yourself.”
“RayRay!” The man was back at the door. “Get the hell down here and move this
car or I’ll have it towed.”
“Go on!” Chelsea screamed. “Or leave it there and let them call a tow truck. The
first thing they’ll do is check the plates for identification. You’re calling the shots, so choose—
move the car or let the cops find it.”
He glared at the door and then at her before dropping his head. “I can’t drive.”
“Raymond! I’ve just called it in. Don’t blame me if the cops tow it away.”
Hearing the man run down the stairs, Ray went to the window, pulled it open and yelled back. “I said I’m on my way! Keep your shirt on!” He turned to Chelsea, grabbed her arm and pulled her up. “Come on! That man’s waiting.”
She watched him tremble as he picked up her keys.
“We walking outta’ here together so don’t try nothin’. Just get in the car and find another parking place down the street.”
Her face stung. Her wrists ached. She held her arms out so the bloodstains on her white sleeves were visible. Someone, she assumed a neighbor, knew she was there. She was sure her family and friends had missed her. She was the most re
liable deputy assistant DA in the office.
Ray walked behind her, his hand on the small of her back. “I got this gun aimed right at you, so just do what I say.”
The heavy morning air smacked her face when he pushed her through the door and into the courtyard. She knew the neighborhood would soon be crawling with children on their way to school. For now, the streets were empty except for an occasional passing car.
“This time I’m getting in the back seat. Drive to the corner, turn around and come back to that empty spot on the other side of the street. When we get back, you need to do like I say and follow me back inside.”