by U
Tempted to slam her foot down on the gas pedal, she eased the car into the street and drove slowly, hoping, praying, someone would notice. The street curved at the corner.
“I can’t make a u-turn. I’ve got to go around the next block and circle back.”
“Okay, but don’t try nothin’.”
She wondered about the medication on his nightstand. He had not taken anything, and had not eaten. A woman hauling a trashcan to the sidewalk looked up briefly and Chelsea waved.
“What you doin? Turn this car around now!”
“Don’t yell at me anymore! That lady smiled and I waved. Look, I’m tired, my wrists are starting to go numb, and I think you broke my jawbone. I’m—”
“Turn around! Go the other way!”
She saw the flashing lights of the blue and white that had stopped next to the parking space she had vacated.
“Turn around where?”
“In that driveway! Right over there!”
He scrunched down behind her seat. The only thing keeping her from flooring the gas pedal was the shaky hand poking the gun in her ribs. Pain mixed with anger.
* * * *
Isaac drove Mrs. Constantine to Mama Rose’s where the rest of the family had
gathered in a back room that was used for parties. Skip met them at the door.
“Mama Rose is not here yet, but she’s on her way. I didn’t want her to hear it on the news, so I told her.”
Isaac glanced at the anguished faces around the packed room. Chelsea’s older brother sat next to their father with his wife close by his side. It was easy to see the tears in their eyes.
“David is right behind us,” Isaac told him, staying close to Mrs. Constantine. He knew both of Chelsea’s parents had doubts about their relationship. Her father was a big football fan, but that did not keep him from expressing his feelings about his daughter shortly after they started dating.
“I know how it is with you big athletes.” He had waited until they were alone. “You have women stashed in every town you play. I don’t want my daughter to be your New Orleans stopover. Chelsea has a good life. A career. Don’t mess that up.”
Looking at him now, Isaac felt the grief he knew a father would feel. He made his way around the room, greeting everyone he knew. The family was close, he felt. Special. Politicians.
Whites. Blacks. There was also a very large Jewish presence, and a host of musicians. Beckoned by Chelsea’s father, he knelt next to the armchair and placed his hand on Mr. Constantine’s arm.
“We’ll get her back. Everyone is doing everything they can.”
“If you love my daughter and you plan to stand by her after this is all over, I hope you’re also planning to help us find the bastard who did this. I have six large bags of cement in my garage. I had planned to refinish my driveway, but I hear cement makes damn fine overshoes.”
He looked over at Isaac. “That’s not just anger talking. I mean every word I say.”
“I feel the same way. I’ve asked David not to arrest him. Just point him out.”
“I’m not waiting for David. I called a few boys I know who can get things handled. If they find him first, they know what to do.”
Isaac cringed. This was the declaration of a helpless father whose child is in danger. He had made the same threat, but Mr. Constantine’s version was sinister enough to levitate the hairs on his neck. He just wanted Chelsea back. Mama Rose arrived, her wizened face overcome with grief.
“It’s all my fault! I’ll never forgive myself for getting her involved in my mess.” She sobbed. “They’ll hurt her to get back at me.”
“This is not your fault, Mama Rose,” Skip reassured her. “You know Chelsea is
prosecuting that Hamilton boy for beating the woman back behind the park. She was being threatened even before you started having problems at the restaurant.”
“Threatened?” She stared in shock. “How so?”
“Somebody left a note on her car. Left messages on her voice mail at work. Let the air out of her tires.” He nodded to David. “He’s been walking her out the parking lot every day since the hearing began.”
“He’s right, Mama Rose,” David added. “We’re working every angle. I know she has
spoken with Larry Mayeaux, so I called him right away. He said the word is out to leave your property alone. He also called the district attorney, who said if someone went beyond the law to gain access to your property, he would personally prosecute them. I doubt this has anything to do with what’s been happening at your place.”
Larry Mayeaux arrived, as did three of Chelsea’s colleagues, including the district attorney. They spoke with Chelsea’s parents first and then Mama Rose. Isaac had poured a drink, but had not touched it. His head ached almost as much his heart. He wanted to let Chelsea know her grandmother’s worries were over. He wanted to feel her safely in his arms. He jumped when his cell phone rang, checked the ID and saw it was Frankie.
“We don’t know anything. We’re at the restaurant. The area around Chelsea’s loft
is crawling with plain-clothed officers. I feel like it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left her until this mess was settled. I asked David to help me find a good security guard to keep her safe. Later, I was too damn angry to follow up.”
“One way or the other, you would have been in Atlanta when this happened.”
She reminded him. “The last thing you need to do is beat yourself up. Save your strength for Chelsea.”
He walked to the other side of the room. “Her parents are in there now. I can’t
stand looking at their faces. I can only imagine what it will be like if—”
“Hold it right there,” she interrupted. “Let’s not go there.”
“Nobody asked for ransom or anything. We had her place secure as a fortress.
Nobody broke in. Her purse, briefcase, and phone are all here. She stopped here to talk to Mama Rose and took food home with her. There’s no food here. I’m guessing she brought her things inside and went back to the car for her food. Her car, keys and the to-go box are the only things missing.” He saw two men talking to Skip and David and recognized Detective Barrett. “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”
Detective Barrett moved away from the others, his eyes fixed on Isaac’s face.
“Mr. Charbonnette, I’d like ask you a few questions.”
“Do you know something? Do you have a lead?”
“They’re checking ever possible reason this could have happened,” David answered.
“Help us if you can.”
“Of course I’ll help if I can.” He looked back at Detective Barrett. “What do you want to know?”
“Tell me about your enemies, Mr. Charbonnette.”
The area around them fell silent. Isaac was sure his heart stopped beating.
“We have to look into every possibility. You’re a high profile athlete. Everyone in this city knows who you are, and quite a few of them know the two of you are dating. Is there someone in your life—relationship gone bad, outstanding debts—anyone who would try and hurt you through Ms. Constantine.”
Dee reached for Skip’s hand. Chelsea’s father moved closer to his wife.
Isaac smothered his anger. “I suppose you have to ask. No. Chelsea and I have been dating for about two years. There is no one else. I’ve never been seriously involved with another woman. There is no one, past and certainly not present, who would do this. I sure as hell don’t owe anyone money.” He briefly thought of his brother, Zack. “If I knew anything that could help find Chelsea, if I knew anyone who could hate me that much, I wouldn’t be standing here.
Obviously someone had targeted Chelsea long before she was kidnapped. That’s when you boys should have started asking questions. What about her neighbors? Some of your men were asking questions in Chelsea’s neighborhood. Did anyone see anything? ”
“Nobody saw or heard anything suspicious.” David answered. “The wo
man who
saw her get into the car doesn’t remember anything about the man’s features, only that he was black and wearing what appeared to be blue coveralls. Said she thought it was their maintenance man at first but noticed he was much younger. Had a cap pulled over his face. She could only see the bottom of his facial profile. He was a large man, so he could have been the one at Ms.
Constantine’s loft.”
Isaac’s heart dropped. “Does that mean you have no leads at all?”
“We have leads. We just don’t know where they end.” David ushered him away from
Chelsea’s parents. “There’s an APB out on her car. That’s our best hope. We’ve got everybody on the force working this. Surely something will turn up soon.”
“You’ve got to find her. You have to get her back. She’s—”
“I just remembered something.” David started pacing the floor. “I didn’t think it was too important at the time, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder if…no, that can’t happen.”
“Look man, just tell us what you know,” Skip said.
“Chelsea told me something when I was walking her out yesterday. It’s about that
guy, the defense attorney for that little animal. Quincy Beckham.”
Isaac moved closer. “What about Quincy Beckham?”
“Chelsea saw him speaking with this other attorney, a big shot criminal defense
dude. He was sitting in the back of the courtroom. I never thought about it until she mentioned seeing the two of them…I think exchanging glances. I’m almost sure he’s been sitting in the back of that courtroom every day of this trial. She thinks he’s the one representing Curtis Hamilton, and Beckham is just a front guy.”
“I don’t understand.” Dee had joined them in the middle of David’s explanation. “I know Beckham has been coming on to Chelsea, but why would he pretend to represent that boy?”
“Attorneys strategize,” David said. “Cases aren’t always won with fact alone, but how it’s used. Sometimes is a simple matter of one attorney being better than another, or opening a window of doubt. When this boy was arrested, even before he was formally charged, I’m sure his defense was being plotted. The DA usually put their strongest attorneys on the big cases, because they’re usually up against a big name. Chelsea thinks Beckham stepped up to lure the DA’s office into feeling safe enough to assign the case to one of their lesser experienced attorneys.”
“Is that it?” Isaac asked.
“She also said Beckham had been…I don’t know…sort of harassing her.” He
looked at Isaac. “Especially when he saw you at the courthouse the other day and tried to make it look like the two of them were having some kind of personal conversation. She said he was leaning all over her. He saw you, but she didn’t. You could see his face, but not hers. She said he was disrespectful to both of you. She threatened to report him.”
“If this experienced man is feeding moves to Beckham, then Beckham should feel he’s got the case in the bag. Why was he coming on Chelsea?” Skip asked.
“She thinks maybe they’re figuring out she’s stronger than they first thought. She believes Beckham and this other attorney were trying to rile her. Trying to get her off track with her case. I’d hate to think Beckham could be involved in her disappearance.” David shook his head. “I trust Chelsea’s instinct, and she didn’t trust Beckham at all.”
Detective Barrett took David’s arm. “Come with me.”
Skip held onto Dee and looked at Isaac. “Don’t be upset over Detective Barrett’s
questions. He asked me and I told him there was nothing, but I guess they’re checking everything.”
“From me to you, I only know of one person who wants to hurt me right now, and
that’s my brother, Zack. He’s strung out on something, but I’m sure he knows I’d kill him if he hurt Chelsea.”
“It’s not Zack,” Dee told him. “Barrett already knows he was in Central Lockup
when this happened. I don’t think this had anything to do with Mama Rose or with you. None of this bad shit was happening until she took that case. It has something to do with that Hamilton boy, and maybe Quincy Beckham.”
David hurried towards them. “I just found out something.” He looked from Dee to
Skip. “Do you remember someone from the old neighborhood named James Pugh?”
“Yeah!” Dee’s face filled with frowns. “He was in our class. You remember him,
Skip. He invited Chelsea to the eighth grade dance. She broke out in that rash she gets when’s she nervous, and couldn’t go. The boy started crying, and his mama came over to your house raising hell that Chelsea stood her son up.”
“Yeah. I remember. What’s he got to do with this?” Skip asked David.
“That boys name was James Quincy Pugh. His mother remarried a man named Bob
Beckham, who adopted the boy. That slick defense attorney who’s been messing with Chelsea is James Quincy Pugh.”
“I knew he looked familiar.” Dee grabbed Skip’s arm. “Ask your mother. I’m sure she remembers. James even told classmates that Chelsea’s folk thought she was too good to go to the dance with him. I also remember he came from a broken home. I think your father said the mother was overprotective because there was no man in the house.”
Isaac frowned. “So you think he would want to hurt Chelsea because of
something that happened in eighth grade?”
“Shit, I do remember.” Skip said. “He had long, curly hair. I remember his mother
carrying on like a crazy person. She married and moved away right after that happened.”
“That’s right,” Dee added. “I remember him standing on the street outside of your
folks’ house before they left. We wanted to go out there and your father wouldn’t let us. He kept saying the boy was just insecure. David, do you really think—”
“I think I should question him. Let’s keep this quiet. I know he was making a pest of himself with Chelsea, but I’d hate to falsely accuse him. I have the name of his firm. I’m going over there.”
“This one’s on me.” Isaac snatched the paper from David’s hand. “I should have kicked his ass when I saw him make his move, but she kept saying he just trying to rile her.”
David stepped between Skip and David. “Since I’m keeping this unofficial, let’s all go, but I don’t want no rough stuff. I know how you both feel. I’d like to pound on the bastard just for upsetting her, but that’s not wise. When this is over, she’ll still have to face that man in a courtroom.”
* * * *
Chelsea drove to Claiborne Avenue with the pistol barrel still poking her side. She watched the streets and Ray’s face in the rear view mirror. He was sweating profusely. He had not told her where to go, so she drove slowly, praying someone, hopefully a policeman, would notice.
Her nerves were also reacting. Her skin itched. She saw the red welts on her arms
growing larger. She grated her lower teeth on her top lip to soothe the itch. Even without looking in the mirror, she knew her face was swelling.
“Are you okay, Ray?” She spoke softly, wanting to ease his tremors.
“Quit trying to play me! You don’t give a damn about me.”
“Look at me, Ray. I don’t know why you chose to do what you’ve done, but I was taught to love all of God’s children. Right now I’m suffering in ways you could never understand. Look at my face. My arms. If I don’t get medication for this soon, my throat will close. If that happens, I’ll die and you’ll be charged with murder.”
He grabbed his head with both hands, leaving the gun dangling perilously from his thumb and forefinger.
“I see people everyday who make mistakes. You’re making one now, Ray. I don’t know why you’re angry with me, or what happened to make you do what you’re doing, but you’re wrong. I’m part of the system that—”
“Shut up!” He nudged her with the pistol barrel. “Where
you goin’? I didn’t tell you go this way! Stop! Stop!”
“Okay! Calm down. I’ll pull over as soon as I can. I know you didn’t tell me where to go, so I’m just driving. I’m sure you don’t want me to go back there where the cops are.” She took the first exit after the overpass. “You’re in control. Tell me where—”
His throaty sobs
escalated to a heartbreaking wail. She pulled into a gas station parking lot and parked close to the building.
“Ray, I know you don’t believe me, but I do care what happens to you. I know you’re frightened. I am, too. I’ve been in some sticky situations, but I’ve never had a gun pointed at me before. I’ve never spent the night tied to a bedpost. I want to help you Ray, but you have to cut me some slack. I need to go home. I need my medication and you need something for your headache. I don’t think you’ll make it without something to help you calm down. What would you do if a policeman came over here right now?”