A knock at the door finally got us talking. Bird made a face, looking at the clock on the stove.
“Tyrone ain’t supposed to be here for his suit until eleven,” she said to me.
“I’ll get it. Probably Jehovah’s Witnesses, since the car’s here.”
She snorted, and the small laugh-noise felt like a kind of victory.
When I opened the door, I thought at first what I was seeing wasn’t real. Two cops in uniforms, plus a detective in a suit—the one who had questioned me before—and another officer standing back, in the yard. Two squad cars behind them parked on the street, with a black police van parked farther down the road.
“Good morning, ma’am. We’re here to see Shondeana Brown.”
Polite as could be, the detective was. Like he wasn’t turning my blood into ice.
“Who is it, Nikki?” Bird said, coming behind me. I heard her stop still, seeing the police.
“Ms. Brown,” the detective said to her, looking beyond me. He held something up. “We have a warrant here to search your vehicle. We’re expecting that you’ll cooperate.”
“You have a what?”
Somehow Bird was past me, on the stoop, jutting out her chin, looking fierce, even though she only came to the detective’s chest.
“Ma’am,” one of the officers said, his tone not as polite. “I’ll ask you to step down, please.”
I wanted to take her arm, pull her into the house with me. But I couldn’t move.
Bird’s hands were in fists at her sides, but her voice was low. “Ain’t no reason you have to be over here this morning. I already told him everything I know, which is nothing. You ain’t got no need to search nothing of my property.”
A small sound came out of me: “Bird.”
The detective moved a step down, bringing him closer to her eye level. “Ms. Brown, a vehicle of this exact color and model—specifically, with the symbol there on the back—was described by more than one witness during one of our investigations. We noticed the vehicle when we were here questioning you the other day, and as this is—by your own admission and Miss Dougherty’s—the residence where one of our suspects was staying, I’m afraid we do have probable cause to search your car. Now, I understand you’re upset, but your cooperation would be appreciated.”
I stared at both of them. Suspect. This man was calling Dee a suspect. I remembered his name then. DuPree. He was like this the other day too. Nice as pie. Like he was just coming over for a cup of coffee. And not in a fake way, either. In a way that made you almost want to do what he said. And now he was here. Here on our step.
Bird turned and looked at me, though she was talking to the police.
“Why. On earth. Would my car. Be anywhere near some ‘investigation’?”
I wanted to sink into the ground, disappear. Bird’s eyes on me, full of rage, and the lights on top of the police cars, spinning. They could be at Dee’s house, doing the same kind of search. He could be arrested. There were witnesses. My whole body was water. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“Ms. Brown, this shouldn’t take much of your time. We’d appreciate it if you’d just let us begin.”
I expected her to scream at them, throw herself in front of her precious Mustang, act crazy like a lady on TV, but she just made this defeated gesture toward the car and sighed. “Let me get the keys.”
I hadn’t moved—couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t believe any of this. She got past me again, somehow, without even touching me. I heard her in the kitchen, the sound of her jangling key chain, murmuring to Jamelee. Lifting her into her arms. When she came back toward the door, I stepped out of the way. Found my voice.
“Bird, I—”
“You ain’t speaking to me,” she hissed, gliding past. She gave the detective her keys and then stood there, at the top of the driveway, watching them. Solid and unmoving, save to bounce the baby up and down a little. I wasn’t sure what do to or where to go. Were they going to search the house? Had I really gotten rid of everything? I wanted to run to my back room, check everything one more time, make sure there was nothing, but another part of me—the truly terrified part—made me stay on the top step, riveted. Watching every move the police made: pulling on their gloves, sliding the seats forward, going through the compartments, opening the trunk, lifting up the floor mats, slipping their hands down in between the seat cushions. Even, of course, looking for fingerprints. A cold sweep came over me as I realized I’d forgotten to wipe down the car again after the other night. Would they find anything, or would it all just be a bunch of smears by now? Could they tell how old they were? Would it matter?
I was so tense, so afraid, that I nearly screamed when I saw the officer in the backseat drop something square and shiny into a clear plastic bag. Dee’s condom wrapper. Shoved between cushions in the backseat after we’d done it on Saturday. The earlier one, from Wednesday night, I’d known enough to pick up and shove in my purse. By that point, I was on my guard. But this one—this I hadn’t thought about. Maybe I’d been too freaked out then to even care. Too turned on to notice. But now it mattered. Now it could make a difference. Even after the officer put it away, it still stayed burning in my mind. Dee’s spit could be on there, from when he tore it open with his teeth. Gunpowder residue from his fingers might have lingered—I didn’t know. All I thought was that this was from Saturday, and there could be anything on it. Even the smallest thing could trace him to that day, that moment. To Bird. And there they were, placing it in that bag.
I almost fell to the ground. It was all I could do to stay standing up, to not plead with them not to take it, swear to them . . . what, I didn’t know. The awfulness of what I did know—and what it would mean to Dee if I said any of it—was all that kept me shocked and silent.
THEY WENT THROUGH THE ENTIRE CAR. TOOK A COUPLE OF other things out, but nothing that stopped my heart in the same way that wrapper did. After, they asked Bird more questions. How to contact her aunt and her grandma, because they’d need to be questioned. You could barely hear Bird’s answers, her teeth were clenched so tight.
She didn’t stay to watch them leave, but I did, not sure they wouldn’t turn around, ask me a few more things. But it was almost like I wasn’t there. Not today. After they were gone, I stood there staring at Bird’s car, wondering who had seen it Saturday. And what else they’d seen. I hadn’t thought about witnesses, really, but of course there were probably houses full of them. It seemed stupid of Dee to take that chance, doing what he did in the daytime, but right on the heels of thinking that, I could understand why he did. The guy was a retired cop. Probably had a house full of guns. It hit me then that he might’ve even had one in his car. That Dee could’ve been shot himself. Hurt, or even killed. It had been smart, then, to surprise him that way. Nobody would expect a thing like that, in the middle of the day.
I was itchy all over to know if he was okay. I moved, finally, to head back inside. I would send a text. He might not like it, but I had to check in.
Only, the front door was locked.
I pounded the door with the flat of my hand. “Bird, I don’t have my keys.”
Nothing from inside.
I knocked again. “Bird, let me in.”
The cold feeling I’d had before crawled back up into my stomach, along with panicky pricks all over. The locked door was probably just an accident, I told myself. I waited. I didn’t have my purse, my phone—nothing. Maybe she was in the bathroom or running water in the kitchen, not able to hear me. I wondered what time it was, how long I might have to be out here until Tyrone arrived.
I knocked hard again with my fist, for a long time. When it opened, I almost banged Jamelee in the forehead, Bird standing there, holding her close.
“Thank goodness,” I gushed. “I didn’t know if you could hear me.”
I tried to step in, around her, but she brought the door closer to her shoulder.
“I think you’d do best at your mother’s awhile.”
“What?”
“You heard what I said.”
It was like she was going to shut the door on me. I put my hand out to stop it. She looked at it, then me, furious.
“Bird, what’s happening?”
“‘What’s happening?’” She said it nasty. “‘What’s happening?’ All I know ‘what’s happening’ is the police are coming to my house, searching my goddamn car, asking me questions about fools I can’t stand the sight of. Questioning my grandmomma. I know ‘what’s happening’ is you lying to the police and you lying to me, and I don’t want it in my house. You go on and stay with your momma. You ain’t staying here.”
“You know I can’t do that.” I started to cry a little.
“You do what you have to, but I’m telling you, you ain’t doing it here no more.”
Jamelee was pulling at Bird’s necklaces, and Bird swatted her fat little arm.
“Bird, don’t—” I meant the baby then, more than me.
She started to shut the door again.
“At least let me get some of my things.” My voice was ugly, pleading. Guilty. I hated the sound of it. “I need my purse.”
She stared at me a long cold minute, still blocking the doorway with most of the door and the rest of herself. Finally she walked away, leaving only a dark space where she had been. But at least the door was open.
I walked through the house, to my room, almost like I was blind. The whole morning was unreal. First the police, the search, and now Bird telling me I had to leave. It couldn’t be happening. Like none of it had happened—not Saturday, not this, not anything. In my room, I found my old duffel and tried to put some things into it. I couldn’t see much because I’d started to cry. It wasn’t just going to my momma’s that was making me scared. It was Bird, telling me I had to.
And then Bird was in the doorway. Watching me as I stood there, shoulders shaking, the bag stupid in my hand. I knew I had to tell her then so that she would understand—understand that even if they searched her car, she wouldn’t be in trouble. I had to reassure her, right now, by telling her the whole thing. I just wasn’t sure I knew how to do it in a way that would still protect Dee.
“Bird, let me expla—”
Her fist against the doorframe made me jump.
“There ain’t nothing I want to hear from you, you understand? Ain’t nothing you say but a bunch of lies. You get out of my house right now and you don’t come back. Not until you talking truth, if you even know what that is.”
“Bird, I didn’t—”
“Get out of my house! Get out, I’m telling you! Just get out!”
It was like she was going to push me herself if I didn’t move. So crying, snuffling, gasping, shuffling, I went past her, down the hall. The TV was on in the front room. A cop show. It wasn’t funny to me in the slightest that on it, someone was getting busted.
I WOKE UP IN MY BED—MY OLD BED, AT CHERRY’S. THE light was on. I didn’t know how long I’d been asleep or what time it was, but it was dark outside. I didn’t remember much besides walking over there from Bird’s, drinking all three beers I found in the fridge, curling up on the bed, and crying, crying, crying.
“What are you doing here?” Cherry said to me from the doorway. She was wearing the black pants and white button-down that meant she’d been at work. Wherever that was this time. Her hair was up, and her lipstick had crusted in a dark line around the edges of her lips. She needed me to retouch her roots.
“I’m staying here for a while.”
She looked at me, eyes loose—everything in her loose. Loose but not so much so that she wouldn’t fly into a tightened rage at any moment. My body clenched up. She looked at her nails a minute.
“You’ll need to pay rent, then.”
I heard how small my voice was when I said, automatic, “But the house is paid for.”
She snorted. “Yeah, but my patience with you isn’t.” Then she disappeared down the dark hall. I could hear her hand sliding down the wall, guiding her a little.
She hadn’t turned off the light.
IN THE MORNING, I MADE SURE TO GET UP EARLY. I GOT dressed, quietly, but I should’ve known it didn’t matter how much noise I made. Cherry was asleep on the couch, the DVD still rotating its constant dramatic menu. I took her car keys from her purse and pulled the door shut, silent as I could. I wouldn’t be gone long. She wouldn’t notice. And it would take a lot, most likely, to wake her.
I didn’t know what I was going to say to Dee, really. Didn’t know what I could realistically ask of him, right now. Only knew that I had to see him. And, no matter what he said, I knew—from the other night, and always—that he needed me, too. Only a week had passed, but it seemed like years since last Saturday. Years since he picked me up from work that Friday, me flushed faced and excited, picturing a whole romantic weekend of just us. Each day since, almost a lifetime of things had happened. And he was wrong that being apart was the best thing for us right now. If he was too stubborn to know it, I was going to help him remember.
It wasn’t a long drive to his gym, but I sped with the rest of traffic anyway. The place was huge, and glossy, the parking lot full of cars. His big black truck towered over them. Hurrying inside, I hoped he was mostly done with his workout. Otherwise he’d be mad I interrupted.
The California-looking guy behind the reception counter gave me a smile but was still curious since it was pretty clear I was no gym regular. I told him I was looking for my boyfriend.
“What’s his name?” The guy had a name tag—Steve. “I can page him.”
“Oh no. If it’s okay, I’ll just walk through.”
He nodded and smiled again, then went back to his computer. He wasn’t interested in me at all, or who I was looking for.
I found Dee upstairs, sitting on a weight bench, talking to a monstrous guy made up of muscley ridges. Dee had a towel around his neck, tattooed hands clenching either end. He was glistening with sweat, and his ribbed tank top clung to his chest. A smile went over me just seeing him. I wanted to be invisible then so I could watch him like this—easy and relaxed, chatting with a friend.
But he must’ve seen me from the corner of his eye, because he turned and stood up before I even got near.
“What are you doing here?”
Close up, I could smell him—his man smell. Sweat, and more. Strength. I started to cry with relief.
“I just had to talk to you and I didn’t know what else.”
“You’ve got to cut this out.” He was annoyed at first, mean like he gets. But then, softer, “I need you to be strong.”
He took me by the elbow and guided me down the wide stairs, the chrome railings gleaming past us. All I felt was his hand, tight and safe around my elbow. I wanted to sink into the feeling. I didn’t care where he was pushing me.
Outside, the heat from the asphalt curled up around our legs. I had to squint to look at him, but my vision was blurred from tears anyway.
“Dee, they came to Bird’s house. They searched her—”
“Look, I’m trying to act as normal as I can here, but you’re starting to mess all that up. What did I tell you? Just keep your mouth shut and quit freaking out.”
“But, Dee, they’re going to question her grandma.”
“And she’s gonna say Bird was with her, and, hell, they’ll go to the outlets and see her on their fucking tapes if they need to, and she’ll be fine. Why’re you worrying about her anyway? You think the cops didn’t come to my house too? You think they’re not watching me, even when I’m at work?”
“Are you okay?”
He laughed. “They can’t do shit to me, baby. They ain’t got nothing. I’m telling you, we just got to ride this out. They can fuss all they want. We sit tight, act cool, it’ll fizzle out.”
“I don’t know if I can without you.”
I put my arms around his waist and pressed myself as close to him as I could. My head against the hard muscle of his chest. His heart, loud and strong. But
he curled himself out of my arms.
“Listen, you can’t be coming around like this. To my gym. To my house. We need to take a break. It’s better if we don’t see each other for a while. And I mean, at all.”
“But why? If everything is okay like you say—”
“You don’t hear me talking to you?”
I put my hand on his forearm, trying to be calm in spite of how mad he was. “I hear you, Dee, I just don’t understand.”
He cursed and spit, shook his head, staring at his feet.
I tried again: “Bird made me go to my momma’s.”
A scowl crawled over his face. “What do you expect me to do about that?”
“I don’t know, Dee. I just—I really miss you. I don’t think I can—”
“You can and you will.” His voice was sharp. Then he sighed, and his hand was back on my arm, rubbing up and down, like I might be cold. “Why did you think I wanted you with me, baby, huh? Because I knew you could do what I needed you to. Whatever I asked.”
My eyes went to the place on his chest where his tattoo was. Though it was covered by his tank, I could still see it in my mind. I still needed to know—over and over—that the N stood for Nikki, and nothing else.
“Are you seeing her, Dee? Is that why?”
“Who?”
“You know who.”
His jaw muscles tightened. “How the fuck do you think I could be seeing her right now, Nikki, huh? How do you think I’d be managing that? Hmmm? Genius? I’m not seeing nobody. Including you right now, you understand me? Now get out of here. Don’t call me, don’t send me any of your whiny texts. Just sit tight, keep quiet, do what you have to do to calm that friend of yours down, and don’t say anything else to the cops. I’ll tell you if there’s anything else to say, and I’ll call you when it’s cool.”
Criminal Page 5