The World in Reverse

by Latrivia Nelson

  ***

  The private office space off of Walnut Grove was completely deserted. No cars were parked outside of the many one-floor bricked buildings. Johnson and Steel parked a few blocks down and then walked over to the back of the buildings. Scaling the fence facing the back of the office buildings, they went to the back window of Ferris’s building and stuck a crowbar under the window to shimmy it open. As expected, the alarm sounded.

  “Just wait,” Johnson said, grabbing Steele by the arm.

  “I told you that it would be an alarm,” she said, pissed that she had even followed him into his hair-brained scheme. “We’re going to get caught!”

  “No, we won’t. Trust me,” Johnson said, pulling her back into the shrubs beyond sight.

  They nestled back into the trees and waited for a uniform patrol car to pull up. It was only minutes later a car pulled up with blue lights and got out. They could hear him on the radio reporting in to the dispatcher. Following protocol, the officer walked the building and checked it. Once he was done, he walked to the back of the building and shined his light into the trees.

  “Okay, let’s go,” he said, coming out of the shrubs. He nodded at the officer and then crawled into the window.

  “What if there are cameras?” Steele asked, still not convinced.

  Johnson pulled out two masks. “Put this on.”

  “Johnson, this is stupid,” Steele protested.

  Johnson sighed in frustration. “Hernandez is on duty tonight. He’s the burglary detective. He owes me like a hundred fucking favors. If there is video, it will come to him first. He’ll get rid of it.”

  “How can you be sure?” Steel asked, slipping on the mask.

  “Because he’s done it before,” Johnson answered. “Now let’s go.”

  They crawled into the window and landed right behind Ferris’ desk in his private office. Quickly, they pulled out their small flashlights and surveyed the room.

  “What are we looking for?” Steele asked.

  “Files from the childcare center. He wouldn’t keep them there,” Johnson answered, using a utility knife that he kept with him to bust open Ferris’s desk. He passed her the knife. Get the file cabinets open and search for anything that can tell us if those kids went to his child care center.”

  Steele opened the door and went out into the office building. She looked around for cameras but didn’t see any. One of God’s small favors. Quickly finding the file room, she found a large row of archive files labeled Happyland. Just as Johnson had done, she used the knife to open the cabinet.

  She had studied the boys and their parents’ names a hundred times since the case had landed on her desk. It only took a few minutes to pull every file for all four boys. The reality was sobering. Not only had Johnson been right, but it was more than possible that they had finally cracked the Baby Boys’ case open and found their killer.

  Johnson walked into the room behind her, shining the light on her face.

  “Did you find anything?” he asked with hope.

  Steele nodded. “All four,” she said angrily. “How did we miss this?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get them and go. Wipe down everything you touched. We’ve got one minute.”

  When they were done, they crawled back out of the window and signaled with the flashlight to the officer walking to the perimeter. Nodding, the police officer got back on the radio.

  “We’ve got a possible break in. There appears to be a window open in the back,” the officer said over his radio.

  Johnson and Steele headed over the fence quickly the same way that they had gotten in. Walking quickly to their car with the files in hand, Johnson looked over at Steele and smiled. “We may have gotten the motherfucker.”

  ***

  As a part of protocol, Ferris was immediately notified when the alarm to his office went off. Paralyzed with fear when he got the call, he jumped out of his warm bed and started to get dressed. Calling Cane on the track phone as he grabbed his keys, he went out to his three car-garage and jumped into his Mercedes-Benz.

  “Someone was at my office, Cane. Why do I have the feeling that it was Johnson and Steele? Aren’t they supposed to be dead?” he shouted.

  “I don't give a fuck who was at that office. Send your office manager. That’s their job. Tonight, you have to stay in the house if you want our plan to work,” Cane growled back at him. The sound of music and people drowned out his voice.

  “Where are you? I can barely hear you?” Ferris exclaimed. “I have to go and get to the office.”

  “And what are you going to do?” Cane protested. “Whoever was in there, got what they came for. You need to stay at the fucking house where we agreed that you’d be. Go down in that fucking wine cellar and wait. Or all of this is for nothing and I swear to God, I’ll kill you myself!” Realizing that he was drawing attention to himself, Cane lowered his voice.

  “Those files are there. I kept them there so that it wouldn’t look suspicious, but now that they’ve broken in, I know that they’ve got them. They know, Cane. I’m telling you that those snooping bastards know. That’s why they wanted me to come in for questioning tomorrow. They fucking know!”

  “Would you just calm down?” Cane said, scratching his head in frustration. He looked around at the people walking, talking and laughing around him at the festival and closed his eyes to center himself. “They will be taken care of just like we planned, tonight. But you have to pull your shit together and wait.”

  Ferris looked out of his rearview mirror and cursed. “Fuck!” Turning his car back off, he put his head down on his steering wheel. “You have to take care of this Cane.”

  “Then let me,” Cane answered. “Go back into the house. In thirty minutes, go down to your cellar and wait. By morning, this will all be over and you’ll have another 15 minutes of fame in front of all those fucking cameras that you love so much. Go and work on your speech or something.”

  Ferris raised his head and took a deep breath. “You’ve gotten what you want. The meeting happened tonight. The supplies for the drugs are here. The money is the in bank. Why would I trust you?”

  Cane chucked. “Because motherfucker, there is no one else to trust. Now, if I had plans on killing you, would I tell you to go down to your cellar? Would I even let you know what I planned to do? I’m trying to watch your ass and mine too. I know you have something on me. I’m not stupid. Your life is my security.”

  Ferris sucked in a breath. Cane evidently knew him better than he thought. He did have something on him. Something heavy. But he didn’t want to use it unless he absolutely had to. He calmed himself to the point of cool arrogance again. “Fine,” he said, getting out of the car. “I’m going back into the house. Just get this done, please. I’m ready to move past this.”

  “You and me both,” Cane said, hanging up the phone.

  24

  Johnson and Steele sat in their unmarked police car in the driveway of Steele’s Cordova home reading through the files. Every single child that had gone missing had been in the care of Happyland at least two years before they had gone missing and ended up dead. While there was still no direct tie to Ferris, they knew that all that was needed was to start an investigation in the morning and then ultimately connect him to the children. With formal questioning of the families and Ferris, they could establish a motive and start to dig into his private life.

  “We finally have his ass,” Johnson said, staring off into space. Even as he spoke, he could see the faces of all the children he had unearthed in the last few months.

  “You did it,” Steele said, reaching over to rub his hairy, muscular arm. Her voice was warm now like a wool blanket.

  Johnson cracked a smile. “No, I didn’t.” He turned to her and shook his head. His voice croaked low. “Agosto did. If he’d never had the balls to sacrifice everything by beating the shit out of DeMario, then we wouldn’t have found dick.”

  Steele paused. “Well, his sacrifice won�
�t be in vain. We’re going to nail this guy. Maybe we can even get his job back.”

  The thought brought Johnson comfort. “He’s a good cop. And he is not hate monger. He has a family…”

  Steele cut him off. “I know.”

  Johnson nodded and let the moment go as quickly as it had come. “I’ll take the files with me, just in case. Possession is nine-tenths of the law. In the morning, we’ll question that fucking bastard and nail his ass to the wall. Get some rest. Go see your family or whoever is in there waiting on you.”

  Steele raised a brow. “No one’s in the house. My son spent the night with his friends tonight. They are probably up right now playing video games. I’m just going in to crash. You get some rest too. I’ll see you in the morning,” Steele said, opening the door.

  Getting out, she meandered slowly up the walkway to her large-two story contemporary home, waved at him before finally slipping inside. Closing the door, she turned on the porch light as Johnson pulled off.

  For the first time in months, he felt like he had actually accomplished something. The Baby Boys case was wearing him down, and there were many times during this process where he wondered if he would even be able to solve the case before the FBI came in and took everything over. But now, he felt certain that he could put all the pieces together.

  Checking his phone, he realized that he had missed a call from Carmen. Dammit! The hours had passed by quickly and he was certain that she’d be pissed at him. He was supposed to be moving some of his stuff into her place tonight, but he hoped that considering the circumstances, she’d understand. Dialing her number, he waited.

  She answered on the first ring.

  “Hello.” She folded his jeans and laid them on the bed.

  “Baby,” Johnson said, glad to hear her voice. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, grabbing his night bag.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Packing your things.”

  His heart skipped a beat. Was she getting rid of the things that he had left at her house after one night of not checking in?

  “Am I already in the dog house?” he asked.

  She chuckled as she picked up a beer and sat at the end of his bed. “No, I’m at your place, silly. I figured that I’d get started since you were running late.”

  He let go a sigh of relief. “Oh, good.”

  She paused. “You sound exhausted.”

  “I am, but I think we cracked the case.”

  Carmen smiled. She knew what that felt like. “I’m so glad, baby. You need this. Hey, I got an idea. Why don’t you grab a pizza and we can just chill out at your place tonight. We can move tomorrow.”

  That sounded perfect to Johnson. “I love your beautiful mind. I’ll stop at Papa Joe’s and grab a pizza, get some beer and head there.”

  “Alright, see you in a few.”

  “Alright, love you.” He let it slip out before he had time to think about how she would react. Sure he had said it before, said it just that day, but this was a casual sort of recognition that he’d never attempted before.

  “Love you too,” she said with a giggle in her voice

  ***

  Collin Magnelli parked a block from Johnson’s condo and waited. He knew that he’d be home at some point and chose this location to do the job. This wasn’t Magnelli’s forte and it was never part of the agreement with Ferris and Cane, but evidently it had to be done. He sat quietly in the stolen car with illegally deep tinted windows and a bad tag that Cane had provided and waited with another man from Cane’s camp with his lights off. Everyone called the man Butter, for what reason, Magnelli didn’t care, but he was a specialist when it came to house hits. Butter was a tall white man with a bald head, bad hygiene and too many tats and scars not to be a career criminal. Every time the man spoke, his breath was like fog fouling the air more than likely because of the rotten teeth in his mouth.

  “How long are we supposed to sit here?” Butter asked.

  Magnelli lowered the window just enough to circulate clean air and not vomit. “As long as it takes,” he said, wishing that Johnson would quickly pull up so that he could get this done and get out of here.

  He took no pride in killing cops, but it was also torture to be in the car with the bad breath heathen. Under normal circumstances, he’d be locking bastards like this up, not planning murders with him.

  Rubbing on his balls through his jeans, Butter reached for the radio to turn the channel.

  “Leave it,” Magnelli said rolling his eyes.

  “What’s up your ass?” Butter asked.

  Magnelli looked over at the man and rolled his eyes. “Look, we’re not here to talk about our feelings, okay? Let’s just get that straight. We’re just gonna sit here quietly and wait. When he gets in the house and gets settled, we do it. It’s that simple. Not fucking rocket science and there’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Why don't we just clip him when he gets out of his car? It’s easier.” Butter didn’t understand why there was a need to make things complicated. He’d been doing this a long time and it was always best to not let the mark get inside of his home.

  “I was told that you follow directions well, Butter.” Magnelli gritted his teeth. “And before we left, I’m certain that Cane gave you directions. He wanted things done a certain way. So just follow them.”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely,” Butter said, sucking his teeth.

  A few minutes later, Johnson pulled up to the front of his condo and got out with a backpack, a hot pizza and a six-pack of beer. Closing the door to his car with his hip, he looked around but missed their vehicle, parked so far away. Quickly, he made his way up to the door, unlocked it and went inside.

  “I thought this guy was supposed to be a damn player. It’s a Thursday night and he’s going home alone to eat,” Butter joked. “Guess we’re his only date for tonight.” He pulled out his AK-47 and checked his magazine.

  Magnelli ignored Butter’s continued attempt to get on his nerves. Checking his own weapon, he slipped on his mask and checked the backseat where four Molotov cocktail bombs waited to be lit and thrown.

  “So how long you thinking ‘bout waiting?” Butter asked. “Until he goes to sleep?”

  “Give him a chance to get settled. Then we do this,” Magnelli said, feeling butterflies erupt in his stomach. While he wouldn’t dare tell Butter the truth, he felt like he was going to be sick.

  ***

  Johnson looked around his condo and realized that Carmen had cleaned. All the clothes that had been thrown over the sofa throughout the long week had been picked up. The papers scattered on the counter in the kitchen had been organized. It smelled like air freshener and felt like a woman had been there. Not like a girl or a chick he was screwing but a real woman. That was an odd but comforting feeling.

  The television in the living room was on the news; the kitchen smelled like Pine-Sol and bleach; the garbage had been taken out. And his washer and dryer were running. Strangely, he liked the feeling. Throwing the pizza on the counter, he quickly dropped his bags, took off his gun and headed up stairs to find Carmen.

  “Baby?” he said as soon as his foot hit the top step of the second floor. “Where are you?”

  “In your room,” she called out in a low, sexy voice.

  He walked in his bedroom to find candles burning and her lying in the dark room naked on his bed. A smile formed on his lips. Closing the door behind him, he pulled off his t-shirt and walked over to the bed.

  “Damn,” he said, licking his lips. “Now that is what a man is supposed to come home to.”

  Carmen grinned, sitting up in the bed against his pillows. Her long hair washed over her shoulders and down to the rigid tips of her rose-colored nipples. Crawling to the edge of the bed to meet him, she tugged at his belt.

  “Why don’t you go and jump in the shower and then we can celebrate your break in the case,” she said, kissing his lips gently.

  The smell of perfume and
mint transferred to his lips from her. Johnson moaned at the taste of her and grew hard in his pants. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he pulled her to him and kissed her deeper. One of his large hands curved around the round globe of her warm breasts. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, helping her unbuckled his pants.

  “So you’re just going to come to bed funky?” Carmen joked.

  “You won’t notice,” Johnson hissed, pulling his pants down. He was commando and ready to go. Rubbing his hand over his manhood, he watched her with a sharpened expression of lust and need.

  She looked at his rock hard penis, pointing up towards his navel and reached out for it. “I want you inside of me now,” she ordered.

  Johnson stopped her abruptly. Throwing her back on the bed in one easy overly practiced move, he grabbed her by the back of her knees and pulled her towards the end of the bed. Her liquid hair dragged behind her. “Not before I taste you,” he said, bending to lick the folds between her thighs.

  She closed her eyes and rested her head back. Undulating under him, she opened her legs wider to let him in. Her nails raked over his head and down his neck as she guided him towards her sweet spot.

  He kept his eyes on her, enjoying each and every reaction to his touch. With every intimate kiss and lick, he drove her wilder and wilder.

  Rising up with his mouth wet with her essence, he finally pulled her shapely hips toward his own. He couldn't’ take it any longer. He had to be inside of her right then. Wedging the head of his throbbing penis inside of her, he leaned into her body and kissed the side of her neck.

  She gasped and then relaxed to let him fully enter.

  “That’s it, baby. Let me in,” he said, using one hand to grab her by the waist and pull her in further.

  “Luke,” she whimpered. “Oh, Luke.”

  Johnson’s head flung back as he clenched her thighs in his hands. Pumping into her while he stood, feet planted into the carpet, he finally let out a growl. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he whispered. Biting his lip, he looked down at her beautiful body. “Shit, you’re beautiful.”

  She opened up wider and pushed against him.