A still quiet filled the room. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“Pastor Elton Jones is Jamal’s biological father. He raped me when I was fifteen years old.”
Phillip had to take a seat on that revelation.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know how or what to say,” Kay said.
“That was two weeks ago,” Phillip said. “You’ve been walking around here with this secret since then?”
She had no words, and could only shake her head. The reality was, she’d been walking around with that secret for seventeen years.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said.
“So this man raped you? Where were your parents? Did he go to jail?”
As painful as it was, Kay filled him in on her parents’ reaction, how no one believed that she’d been raped, how she’d been blamed for her own pregnancy. She didn’t know why, but she expected Phillip to take her in his arms and comfort her.
“Wow, I’m feeling like I don’t even know you,” Phillip said when she was finished.
“You do,” she replied, hurt by his reaction. “I’m the same person you married.”
He stood and backed away from her. “No, because the woman I know wouldn’t walk around and hold on to this lie. And even if she was so ashamed of what happened, she wouldn’t have continued the lie once it showed up on our doorstep.”
“Please forgive me.”
“Forgive you?” he said, looking at her sadly. “Right now I don’t even know you.”
He grabbed his pillow and blanket and walked out of the room.
44
* * *
* * *
It was like Kay was walking a path of chaos and destruction. Once again, she had delivered the news that she was Jamal’s mother and left someone speechless. This time it was Sam Turner, her boss.
“Please tell me this is an April Fool’s joke in October,” he said.
She shook her head. “No, out of the two million people in the city of Houston, I would be handed the case with the son I gave up for adoption.”
When she’d walked into his office, Kay was sure that Sam had no idea that this was the bombshell she was about to deliver.
He’d been excited to see her. Her interview with Ming had aired last night and everyone was talking about it. But all of his excitement was gone now. She’d told him everything, even about the rape. Sam leaned back in his leather seat, a look of disbelief still across his face.
“When did you find this out?” he asked.
Kay didn’t want to tell him the truth, but she was tired of the lies. Even still, letting him know that she’d known for weeks would just create unnecessary drama, so she simply said, “I just found out.”
Either that satisfied him or the issue of when didn’t really matter, because he didn’t respond.
“The bottom line is this all could get very ugly,” she continued.
“Oh, this is not good. Not good,” Sam mumbled.
“Exactly, and that’s why”—she handed him the piece of paper—“I need to officially ask to be recused from this case and I think it’s best I take a hiatus from the prosecutor’s office while this case is going on.”
He looked like he wanted to argue. But Sam didn’t like bad publicity and he knew just like Kay that this had bad publicity written all over it.
“Wait, isn’t your husband representing him?” Sam asked.
Kay nodded.
“Is he going to continue?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Probably.”
“Well, maybe nobody has to know. At least before the trial.” He stood and started pacing. “We can just say you’re stepping down because of the mayoral race.”
“Marty Simon knows,” she said before he got too comfortable with that plan.
Sam abruptly stopped. “Marty Simon knows? So what in the tarnation am I supposed to do now?” he exclaimed.
“I wish I had an answer. I wish this had never happened,” Kay said. She really didn’t know what to tell him. Marty’s threat had been eating at her insides. The debate was in a week so she’d have to come up with a plan asap.
“Okay, fine,” Sam said, shuffling papers on his desk like he was really looking for something. “I’ll start briefing one of the ADAs. Do you think Harold . . . ?”
“No,” Kay immediately said, “he’s not ready to go at this alone.”
If she were unethical, Kay would tell Sam to go ahead and let Harold prosecute because no way could Harold win this case.
“I just have to figure this out,” Sam said, dismissing her.
She knew she had ruffled his feathers. But if they escaped with no negative publicity he’d quickly get over it.
. . .
Kay had just returned to her office when she stopped in her tracks at the sight of Maxine sitting in the lobby outside of her office.
What in the world did she want? Kay didn’t want to be rude but she wanted no parts of her past—including reconnecting with Maxine.
Kay debated dipping out the side door but a thought that maybe, somehow, Maxine was connected to Marty’s blackmail propelled her forward.
“Maxine?” Kay said.
“Kayla?” Maxine jumped to her feet.
“Umm, yes. How are you?”
“I’m okay.” Maxine looked like she’d aged thirty years. At the restaurant, Kay hadn’t noticed the bags under Maxine’s eyes, the drooping and discolored skin, which indicated years of hard drug use. She wore tight leggings, platform boots, and a long, tattered sweater. Her stringy hair was pulled back haphazardly in a ponytail.
Maxine looked around the office, unsure of what she should say. “Sorry to just pop by, but I wanted to catch up and, ah, you left the restaurant the other day without exchanging numbers.”
And you couldn’t get the hint? Kay wanted to say.
“Well, I, ah, I saw you on TV and that you worked in the DA’s office and so, you know, I just dropped by.”
Kay glanced over at her secretary, April, who had been watching them, possibly to make sure Maxine wasn’t some crazy person they needed to call security on.
Kay held up a hand to let April know that everything was fine. She had no clue what Maxine wanted, but the girl seemed harmless. She definitely didn’t seem like she could be connected to Marty Simon in any way. Besides, Kay reminded herself, there was no way Maxine could’ve known about Jamal.
“Glad you dropped by,” Kay said, “but I’m about to go into a meeting.”
“Well, um.” Maxine twirled her hair around her finger as she spoke. “I was just, um, wondering if maybe I could talk to you.”
Normally, Kay would’ve tried to sugarcoat things, but she just didn’t have the energy. “Maxine, I have a lot going on and really, now isn’t a good time.”
“It’s just . . . I mean, I need to talk to someone who knows what I’m dealing with.”
How in the world could Kay know anything about the hard life Maxine had obviously lived?
“I wish I could help,” Kay said. “But I have this meeting that I’m already late for. Then I have to head to a luncheon to speak,” she said in case Maxine offered to wait.
Maxine pursed her lips, then let out a sigh. “Okay. Cool. Sorry to bother you.”
For a moment, Kay felt bad. But then she decided that she had her own personal issues and didn’t need to add someone else’s drama to her plate—especially someone that was a reminder of her past.
“Leave your number with my secretary and I’ll get back in touch.”
Maxine nodded as she slid her purse over her shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Kayla.”
Kay watched her walk away. Truthfully, she hadn’t expected Maxine to go so easily, but she was glad that she had. Maybe she just needed a friend. Unfortunately, that couldn’t
be Kay.
“Mrs. Christiansen, just a reminder, your team is waiting on you in your office,” April said.
“Okay.” Kay headed into her office and greeted everyone. After extending an apology for her tardiness, she slid into the seat at the head of the long table.
“Are you ready for your debate?” Valerie asked. “Only a few more days.”
“As ready as I can be,” Kay responded. Going head-to-head with Marty Simon was the last thing she felt like doing right now. But she got into the zone because it was evident Loni and Jeff, who were sitting across from her, were ready to work.
“Good. I’m going to review some last-minute points I want to make sure you touch on,” Loni said before going down an extensive list.
Jeff then chimed in and gave the talking points he wanted her to focus on. They discussed the campaign for the next hour and finally, when they were finished, Kay closed her portfolio, crossed her hands, and prepared to break the news to her team.
“Look, you probably should hear it from me first because I’m sure it will be getting around the office soon. I’m stepping down off the Jamal Jones case.”
“What?” Valerie said.
“Yes!” Loni and Jeff chimed in at the same time.
Loni shrugged. “Sorry, but you know I need your undivided attention anyway.”
“I agree,” Jeff added. “But why are you stepping down?”
“It’s a personal matter, one that I’m sure you’ll hear about soon enough. But in the meantime, I need you to transfer all the files to Sam and he’ll get them to the new prosecutor.
While both Loni and Jeff looked thrilled at the announcement, Kay couldn’t make out the expression on Valerie’s face. She looked shocked and frightened. Maybe she was scared she’d lose her job if Kay left.
“And don’t worry, your job is safe.”
“Okay,” Valerie said, pulling herself together. “Well, good luck on your debate. That Marty Simon can be a pushy one. But I know you can hold your own against him.”
Kay weighed Valerie’s words as her assistant headed back to her desk. In the past, she would have agreed with Valerie without a moment’s hesitation, but now she honestly wasn’t so sure.
Kay had thought that work would ease the fear of what Marty would do. He was capable of getting down and dirty and she needed to strategize. She wasn’t stepping down so she needed to prepare for the worst.
She shook away thoughts of Marty. Right now, she needed to be preparing to turn all of her notes over to Sam. Kay picked up a folder marked “personal—Jamal Jones.” It was the file she’d asked Valerie to gather. She pulled out his school transcript and while his grades were below average, she was speechless at his test scores. He’d scored in the top five percent on both his SAT and the ACT. Suddenly, Kay found herself wondering if circumstances would have changed Jamal’s outcome. If she had stuck around to be a mother to him, would he be facing the death penalty?
Now she needed to walk that fine line of giving her predecessor just enough information so that she couldn’t be accused of doing anything improper. She would not help them put Jamal away forever. Or worse, give him the death penalty.
Kay had sat at her desk for a few minutes going over her other files when she realized she was missing a folder she’d had Valerie get together for her earlier. She’d given it back to Valerie and asked her to add some more details on supporting case law and had forgotten to get it back.
“I have too much on my plate,” she mumbled. The file was probably still on Valerie’s desk, so Kay would have to retrieve it herself.
Valerie’s light was off and she’d obviously gone for the day so Kay did a quick glance. She didn’t see the file on top of the desk so she opened a drawer and started looking where Valerie stored the current case files. It wasn’t there, either.
“Okay, now I’m going to have to call her,” she mumbled.
Kay hated disturbing her employees when they were off because they worked hard enough as it was. She reached for Valerie’s phone and punched in her number. Valerie’s voice mail picked up. “Hey, Valerie,” she said after the tone, “it’s Kay. Trying to find out where you put the police brutality case law files. Call me when you get this.”
Kay had just placed the phone back on the hook when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a piece of paper on the floor next to the trash can. It looked like someone had tried to toss it in the trash and missed. It looked like a bank receipt, and since Kay didn’t want the janitors getting a hold of Valerie’s information, she picked it up to put it in the trash can. And that’s when she noticed it was a Chase Bank deposit receipt. Normally she wouldn’t have thought twice about it because she knew that’s where Valerie banked. But it was the figures on the slip of paper that gave her pause: $500,000. Where in the world did Valerie get $500,000?
The answer came before the thought left. And Kay could only pray that she was wrong.
45
* * *
* * *
The sight on her TV was making Gloria sick. Rev. Clayborn was bellowing something about “racism and justice.” The news was covering a rowdy protest held by the Black Justice Coalition last night in Jasper, which had ended with four people being taken to the hospital and eight people arrested.
All in the name of justice for Jamal.
Gloria couldn’t help it. She snatched up her phone and swiped Elton’s name.
“Gloria?” he said, answering on the first ring.
She wasn’t even going to beat around the bush with any formalities. “Can you please get them to stop? All of this protesting and anger. This is not helping our son.”
Elton paused. “I can’t keep them from doing what they do.”
“That Reverend Clayborn said he had our support! He’s telling the news reporters that we’re supporting this foolishness,” Gloria exclaimed. Just watching him on TV right now made Gloria want to toss her shoe at the set.
“It actually isn’t as bad as it seems.”
“Four people had to go to the hospital, Elton!”
“Well, they think if you and I would just come out, it would give a calming voice,” he said.
“They’re selling T-shirts with my son’s face on them!” she yelled. “What part of ‘I want no part of that’ do you not understand?” She lowered her voice, trying to regain her composure and not bring her mother out of her room. “I don’t support this, Elton. You might be okay with them using you, but I’m not supporting that and you need to make them stop.”
“I don’t have any control over what they’re doing,” Elton repeated.
Gloria was seething. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll just go to the media and tell them we don’t support these people. I’ll speak out against them since you’re more concerned with lining the church’s coffer.”
“Don’t do this, Gloria.”
“Elton, this should’ve been done a long time ago. If you won’t handle it, I will.” She slammed the phone down on him and turned to see her mother standing over her.
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about.” Erma chuckled. She was dressed in a leopard skin blouse with some skinny jeans and black low-heeled boots.
Gloria was not in the mood for her mother. She loved Erma Hurley dearly, but at a time like this, she couldn’t take her mother’s two cents, which her mother never failed to offer.
“What, Mama?” Gloria asked.
“Just glad to see you finally standing up to that man.”
Gloria pulled the afghan up over her head. “Mama, don’t . . .”
Not to be dismayed, her mother walked over to the sofa, pulled the afghan back down, and said, “I’m just trying to figure out where I went wrong with you.”
Gloria sighed as she sat up. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been in here just boo-hooing, crying yourself into obl
ivion. You sure got your daddy’s soft ways.” Erma shook her head in pity.
Gloria often wondered how her parents ended up together. Her mother, a former Black Panther, had been the strong militant type, protesting any and every thing. Her father, on the other hand, had been a typical, Southern “yes” man, trying to ruffle as few feathers as possible. And while her mother had long settled down from her militant ways, she still had that rebellious spunk, and right about now Gloria guessed she was once again trying to figure out why her daughter didn’t have it.
“I’m just going through a lot right now.” She hadn’t told her mother details of her split with Elton but decided to tell her now. “I left Elton,” Gloria said.
Erma didn’t seem fazed. “Good. You should’ve done that a long time ago!”
“Mama, this is serious,” Gloria said.
“I know it is. You don’t need any man that makes you lose yourself. You’ve made excuses for him since the day you married him. You can’t help anyone face their demons, when you’re helping justify their actions.”
“I know, Mama.” Gloria sighed. “But right now, I can’t deal with it.”
“Okay.” Erma threw her hands up like she was leaving it alone. “I’m going out on a date.”
“You’re almost eighty years old. When are you gonna get somewhere and sit down?”
She grabbed her purse, a leopard skin number that matched her blouse. “When they put me in the ground.”
“Okay, fine, whatever.” Gloria lay back down.
“I know it’s fine, because you’re just going to lie here on the sofa and weep. You need to come with me. Benji got a friend he can hook you up with.”
“Yeah, I have no interest in hanging out with an old man named Benji and his old buddies.”
“Who said anything about him being old?”
“Ugh. Good-bye, Mother.”
Erma chuckled as she left. For a fleeting moment, Gloria wished that she had her mother’s spunk. Despite being total opposites, her father hadn’t been able to change her mother. He’d tamed her, but he hadn’t changed her. And he’d loved her just the same. Until the day he died, she was his everything.
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