by D. L. Sparks
My sister came over and asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m going back upstairs with my nephew. You better fix this before Mama and Grammie come home.”
All could do was stand there as she disappeared up the steps, taking my sanity with her.
Chapter Twenty-one
Trip
I shifted my body around on the small, uncomfortable chair situated in the corner of my partner’s hospital room. The fake leather whined under the weight of my body. The hiss of the machine helping Phil breathe was loud and intrusive. I felt like it was mocking me, trying to prove that it could do something I couldn’t. I made that chair into my bed as I sat and prayed my partner would open his eyes. I reached up and slid the blinds back, allowing the new day to fill the sterile room.
“You been here all night?”
I looked up and saw Lenny standing in the door. He looked as bad as I felt.
I stood up. “Yeah, I keep staring at him, expecting him to wake up.”
He walked over to the bed. “He will.”
“He better.” I stood to my feet. “What’s up? What you doin’ here?”
“Forensics called. They came up empty on that shell casing. Heat from the round being fired burned off any print.”
“Damn. I was really hoping that would’ve given us a solid lead.”
Just then, a tall female doctor walked in; two nurses were on her heels. One of the nurses began to tend to the machines connected to Phil; the other started checking his IV lines and breathing tube.
The thin black lady extended her hand. Her white lab coat was a stark contrast to her beautiful dark chocolate complexion. Her jet-black hair was secured in a neat bun at the base of her head.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Patterson. I operated on your partner.”
I took her cold, scrawny hand in mine and gently shook it. “Is he okay?”
“Yes, he’s doing well. The first bullet cut through his right shoulder, slicing through muscle. It was a through-and-through.”
“Okay.”
“The second pierced his lung before exiting his lower back. We were able to stop his internal bleeding and repair the damage. He’s stable now.”
Lenny spoke up. “When do you expect him to wake up?”
The doctor looked at Phil, then back to us. “When he wakes up is going to be up to him.”
“But he will wake up, right?” I asked.
She nodded a thin veil of reassurance. “I don’t see any reason why not. The breathing tube is more of a precaution than anything. I ordered his breathing tube out today.”
I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. I eyed the nurses as they finished up and left the room.
“Thank you very much.” I shook her tiny hand again.
“Don’t thank me. Your friend is a fighter. He’s a very strong man, and he’s as healthy as an ox.” She headed toward the door. “He made my job easy.”
I looked at Lenny and smiled. “She’s never seen him eat.”
That got a small laugh from Lenny.
I made my way to the door. “I need some air. Call me if anything changes,” I insisted. “I’m going to get something to eat and see if I can get ahead of this.”
Lenny took over my post on the noisy chair, and I set out in search of something to put in my stomach. My first thought was the cafeteria, but I really did need fresh air. I headed for the parking deck.
I drove the streets of downtown Atlanta with the windows halfway down. The crisp early-morning air filled the truck and cleared my head a little. It was almost eight, but my mind was all over the place. I needed to get something to eat and soon. I jumped on I-20 and headed toward my mother’s house. I knew that I could get something there and possibly catch a nap before heading down to headquarters. I wasn’t gonna stop until I found out who shot Phil. In more ways than one, this case just got personal.
At my mom’s I took a shower and changed clothes before settling in over a mountain of eggs, turkey bacon, and grits. I was reading a story in the newspaper about a local cardiologist who was in the middle of a standoff the night before. It caught my attention because the dude, Sean Morris, had seen my pops a couple times in the ER before he died. According to the story, he was in some love triangle ended up taking his own life.
Guess everyone was having issues.
I heard someone come into the kitchen, but I didn’t look up from my paper.
“Trinity, can you get me some orange juice?”
“She’s in the shower.”
My mother’s voice made me look up. “Mama, what are you doing out of bed?”
“I’m not handicapped, boy.”
I swallowed a mouthful of grits. “I know you’re not. How’s your hip doing?”
“It’s better. That doctor Trinity took me too gave me something for the pain. He ordered a bunch of tests too.”
“Good.”
Her eyes were sad when she spoke. “Trinity told me what happened.”
I reached up and secured my locs behind my head before picking up my fork again. “Phil is gonna be fine.”
“I’ve been praying for him.” She went to the sink and, true to form, began making dishwater. “She also told me about the grave site.”
I stopped eating, but I didn’t look at her. I kept my eyes fixed on the food in front of me. “Mama—”
“I’m not gonna fuss. But from the sounds of it, you got a lot of anger inside.”
“Mama, I’m fine.”
She poured me a glass of orange juice and set it in front of me. “No, you’re not.”
“What do you want me to do, mama?”
“I want you to let it go. It’s time, baby.”
I would never disrespect my mother, but right now she was pissing me off with all this forgive-and-forget bullshit. I just wanted to get full and catch a quick nap before heading out. I didn’t come by here to be lectured. I looked up and saw Trinity sneak past the kitchen. She gave me a look that let me know she agreed with my mother. She didn’t stop and kept moving toward the living-room.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be, you little snitch?” I called to her.
“It’s Saturday, grumpy,” she called back.
“Now, don’t you go blaming her,” Mama took her seat across from me. “Baby, I’m worried about you. We both are. You’re shutting us out. Have been for years.”
“I understand what you’re saying, Mama, but I’m not shutting anyone out.”
“Well, I don’t know what else to call what you did. It’s almost like when we put your dad in the ground, we buried you too.”
I leaned back and let out a sigh. “Come on, Mama. I didn’t do anything. I took a job that happened to be in another state. That’s all.”
“And I also know that Idalis needs her best friend—now more than ever.”
“Idalis is fine.” I pushed back in my chair and stood up. “Can we drop it, please?”
“I’m scared, baby, that’s all. That could be you in that hospital bed.”
“But it’s not.” I bent down and kissed her cheek. “I’m going to lie down for a little bit.”
She didn’t respond; instead, she busied herself by clearing the table.
I made my way down the hall to the bedroom that I used to call mine. I pushed back the door and it creaked and squealed, yielding to my intrusion. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself at how huge I used to think the room was when I was growing up.
The large bed, situated under the window at the far end of the tiny room, had been there from the day I started high school, when it replaced my old bunk beds. The worn wood of the dresser and chest of drawers told all thirty-eight of my years.
I opened the small closet door.
My mother had filled it with extra blankets and sheets, but the ghosts of my sister and me huddled in the corner would always live there.
I closed the door and stretched out on the bed, which strained under the weight
of my body. I balled a pillow up and tucked it under my head.
Lying in the bed, I watched the ceiling fan circulate the stale air around the room. I ran through every bit of the case in my head, tried to think of anything I’d missed, anything that didn’t make sense, any piece that stood out. Up until now, everything had been done by the book, at least on our end. Phil must’ve felt really good about the lead to go without me.
That’s when it hit me; I sat up on the bed.
Darius!
I kissed my mom and slapped my sister upside her head on my way out; then I bolted out the front door. I needed to get downtown. I didn’t know much about Darius, but I was hoping that since he was a logged informant, I could find something in the system that would lead me to him.
Back in the office, I sat in front of the twenty-inch flat-screen monitor, scanning the database for anything that might lead me to Darius. The original UC that had linked Phil with the informant had been snatched off the street and put in hiding so I was on my own. I didn’t know much about him, but I was hoping to come across something. During my search I became both amazed and frustrated at how many people had given that name to their sons, and even more so at the fact that so many had been in some sort of legal trouble at some point.
After two hours of searching and cross-referencing, I finally got a hit. I scribbled down the address and headed for the elevators.
Agent Roberts passed me in the hall. “What you got, Trip?”
“Going to check out an address. If Lenny needs me, tell him to call my cell.”
“Any word on Phil?”
“He’s still hasn’t woken up,” I called out as the elevator door closed.
I maneuvered my truck around the bowels of southwest Atlanta. This time of morning everyone who laid claim to the streets was either just getting to bed, or already asleep, resting up for the night shift. I had learned over time that runners who took the early-morning or day shifts weren’t exactly a wealth of information. They were more like placeholders, keeping the porch light on, so to speak, for the ones who handled the real weight at night.
The address I had led me to Center Hill, off Bankhead, or rather Donald Lee Hollowell Parkway. After all these years, that name still didn’t register. No matter how they packaged it, Bankhead would always be Bankhead.
I pulled up in front of the shabby house that displayed the address from my paper. The run-down property squatted right in the middle of the block and was surrounded by a messy yard. The two corners where the house sat were decorated with guys standing watch.
I could hear whistling popping off in the air, the hood version of a siren. Even at this time of the morning, eyes were watching and runners were alerting everyone that heat was in their midst. I stepped out and made my way through the maze of trash and overturned toys to the front porch.
The rickety screen door squeaked when I pulled it open. I rapped on the door two hard times. When no one answered, I reluctantly pressed the doorbell, in spite of the exposed wires. That must’ve gotten someone’s attention. Shortly afterward, I heard the soft click of locks being released.
A stout dark-skinned woman, dressed in a ratty robe and nightgown, opened the door. Her hair was up in rollers, with a scarf wrapped tightly around the sides of her small head. Her deep-set, glassy eyes and dark lips told her story without her opening her mouth. She looked like a woman who’d just gotten to sleep, only to have me interrupt it with my visit.
“Can I help you?” her tone angry.
I flashed my badge. “I’m looking for Darius Grey.”
“He ain’t here.”
“Do you know where he is?” I pushed.
She heaved her huge, braless breasts and let out a heavy sigh. “What is this about?”
“I need to ask him some questions about a shooting that took place a couple nights ago.”
I watched as she fidgeted and adjusted her nightgown. “Well, he not here.”
I looked over her shoulder and scanned her messy living conditions. There were piles of clothes all over the floor, like she had started to wash clothes and suddenly changed her mind. The dirty floor and toys scattered everywhere let me know there was a child close by.
I glanced over my shoulder and took inventory on how quickly the landscape had changed. Corners were now empty, but my eye caught the lookouts in the windows across the street and the house next door.
I reached in my pocket and pulled out one of my cards and held it out for her to take. “If he shows up, tell him to call me.”
She sucked her teeth. “Why? So y’all can just throw him up in jail again? He just got out a couple months ago.”
“Ma’am, I just wanna ask him a few questions. If he hasn’t done anything, then there’s no need to lock him up, is there?”
She snatched the card out of my hand and slammed the door.
Chapter Twenty-two
Idalis
I hated hospitals. My mother always said that death roamed the halls, which fueled my distaste for them. There was no medium emotion when it came to hospitals: you were either elated, usually due to a birth, or devastated, usually because of death or not-so-good test results. All the nurses smiled at me as I made my way toward my grandmother’s room. I forced a smile, but my stomach was churning enough acid to eat through rock.
I dreaded what was on the other side of the door labeled 406. I took a deep breath, and then pushed the cracked door fully open. My mother was sitting on a chair at the foot of the bed, flipping through a magazine. I didn’t need to see my grandmother to know she was on a machine that was helping her breathe. I could hear it hissing, taunting me, letting me know that death was roaming the hallway, waiting.
I fought tears as I bent the small corner and saw her.
My mother looked up, but she didn’t move in my direction.
Instead she sat silently, letting me digest what I was seeing.
I took a deep breath and moved to her bedside. Her eyes were closed. Mama had braided her hair into two long, shiny braids, which rested on each shoulder. I tried to fight my tears, but they came in waves. My mother came and led me to a chair next to the bed.
“Mama, is she okay?”
“No, baby, she’s not.”
I looked up at my mom, feeling like I was five years old. I wanted her to make it all better, but I knew she couldn’t. I looked to my grandmother. I wanted her to get up, help me, help me clean up my mess, but she didn’t. She lay there, a shell of the woman I had known all of my life. Not many women my age could say they had their grandparents all their lives, but I was lucky. God had blessed me with her for almost forty years, and I wasn’t ready to let her go.
“Isn’t there something they can do?”
“Now it’s just about making her comfortable.”
I wiped my eyes, “I don’t understand. I thought that her doctor wanted her here as a precaution, to help manage pain.”
Mama nodded; then she sat on the edge of the bed, never letting go of my hand. “They did the scan, and the cancer has spread to her organs.”
“Oh my God!” I said, shaking my head and trying to control my sobs, which were shaking my body.
Mama hugged me and tried to console me. “Baby, she’s comfortable. That’s all we can ask for, for right now. The tube is helping her breathe.”
I wiped my face for what seemed like the thousandth time and took a deep breath. I thought about Cameron and how he kept asking for her. I didn’t know what to tell him. He was with India. She was taking him to the zoo and out to eat.
That freed up my morning to run some errands, stop by my house and check on things as well as swing by 404 and show my face. I had been leaving the Barnes & Noble at Camp Creek Marketplace when my mother called me.
I stepped into the hospital corridor and called to check on my twin.
“Hey, you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Mama called you?”
“Yeah.”
“You on your way to the hospital?”
<
br /> Her voice was shaky. I could hear Cameron in the background. “Yeah. We’re just leaving McDonald’s. Um ... let me see if I can get Ms. Walker from next door to come sit with him and I’ll be right there.”
The lump in my throat grew bigger. “Hurry up, Twin.”
Back in the room I took my post in a chair across from the bed. My mother was sitting in a chair next to my grandmother’s bed.
“India is going to get Ms. Walker to keep Cameron; then she’ll be on her way.”
She nodded, never taking her eyes off her mother.
The door to the room hissed open and Lincoln stepped inside, getting my mother’s and my attention. I got up and hugged him.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I shook my head into his chest. “No.”
He walked over and hugged my mother. “Hey, Mrs. Arrington.”
She smiled. “Hello, Lincoln.”
“Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m fine.”
He gave me a look that let me know he wanted to talk tome.
“Mama, I’ll be right back.”
We stepped into the hall and for a second he stood with his back to me.
I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I need to take care of some business right quick, but I’ll be back in a little bit.”
My body grew rigid and I crossed my arms against my chest. “Lincoln, I need you here.”
“Idalis I will be right back, just let me handle this.”
I turned to walk away, but I stopped and turned back around. “Does this have anything to do with what I found in the garage?”
Anger flashed across his face as he shook his head. “You worryin’ about the wrong thing.”
My eyes went to the closed hospital room door, then back to him. “Then what is it?”
“Let it go, Idalis.” His voice was rising, causing the nurses to peek up from the counter at the nurses’ station.
“Lower your voice,” I hissed.
He stared at me for a moment, like he was reading me, examining my body language. I felt my face warm and my stomach started to churn.
“I really wish you would knock off this innocent act you have goin’ on.”