by RM Johnson
He jumped back in his car and sped toward the warehouse, while thoughts of Henny lying on the ground entered his mind. Should he have left her there? There was nothing more he could do than take the gun from Ally and call 911. She said she would watch over Henny until the ambulance came. But Rafe called Wade just to make sure.
“Hello,” Wade said, as if expecting the call. “Is everything okay?”
“No, it’s not,” Rafe said, his tone low and mournful. “I need you to go to Lenny’s off State, then a block east.”
“Why? What’s going on?” Wade said, fear in his voice.
“Hennesey is dead.”
SIXTY-ONE
“HENNESEY’S DEAD,” Wade heard Rafe say.
“What! What did you just say?” Wade said, knowing he couldn’t have heard him correctly, knowing this couldn’t be happening.
“I said she’s dead.”
“How?”
“She was shot. She was shot, and now she’s dead.”
When Wade had gotten to the scene, a crowd of people had gathered.
“Excuse me. Pardon me. Let me through!” Wade said, pushing his way through the thick throng of people looking for Ally. Rafe said she would be there. When he got through, he looked down and saw nothing more than a wide puddle of blood.
This will kill her, Wade thought, thinking about Livvy, digging out his cell phone, knowing he couldn’t hold this information from her. He dialed her number.
“Livvy, it’s Wade,” he said when she picked up.
“Baby, baby! I got the scholarship!” Livvy bubbled, and then shrieked.
“That’s good, baby. But something happened.”
All of a sudden, there was silence on the other end of the phone. Livvy must’ve known something was gravely wrong by the tone of Wade’s voice.
“What do you mean, something’s wrong?”
“Just be ready to go. I’m coming to get you, and I’ll tell you then.”
SIXTY-TWO
THE DOOR of the warehouse was open when Rafe arrived. He walked down the long corridor, his gun drawn, listening. He stopped when he heard voices.
He pressed himself up against a door, placed his ear to it. He heard Smoke’s voice, then heard Trunk. Rafe adjusted his grip on his gun, placed a slightly shaky hand on the doorknob, counted to three, then barged through.
Inside, he quickly aimed the gun at Smoke, keeping an eye on Trunk just in case he decided to make any sudden moves.
“What the fuck, Rafe, bustin’ through my shit like T. J. Hooker? Is there a damn problem?”
“Shut up, Smoke!” Rafe commanded. His eyes were still on Smoke, but he was aiming the gun at Trunk now. “Big man, show me your hands.”
Trunk looked to Smoke for instructions.
“Don’t look over there, motherfucker. I got the gun. Show me your hands.”
The big man started to raise his hands, but then attempted to go into his jacket.
“Hold it!” Rafe yelled. “Open it up.”
Trunk opened his jacket, revealing a gun.
“Slide it this way. Easy.”
Trunk lifted the gun from his holster with two fingers, placed it on the floor, kicked it over. Rafe picked it up and now held a gun on both Trunk and Smoke.
“What the fuck is this about? Why you coming up in here like this?” Smoke demanded, standing from his chair.
“Sit down,” Rafe commanded.
Smoke remained standing.
“Sit down!” Rafe yelled at the top of his lungs, raising the gun higher and pointing it at Smoke’s head.
Smoke sat back in his seat. “Then tell me why you in my office, pointing guns at me and my man, with what looks like blood all over your ass.”
“This is blood. It’s from a girl you just killed. My girlfriend.”
“Bullshit! The bitch I just deaded was a trick who robbed me for my car and all my shit last night.”
“No, Smoke. That’s who you thought you got,” Rafe said, taking two steps closer to him, aiming both guns at him now, both his fingers on the triggers, preparing to pull. “Who you really killed was her twin sister. Someone who ain’t have shit to do with that, don’t even know you. You killed my girl, and now I gotta kill …” But before Rafe could pull the trigger, he saw Trunk go behind his back, dig in the waist of his pants. Rafe whirled the guns around as Trunk pulled his second gun, firing a shot.
The shot whizzed past Rafe’s head, as he ducked and started firing at the same time. His bullets found their mark, the big man screaming out in agony, his lower limbs exploding in bursts of blood and splinters of bone. He fell slow and heavy, toppling over, the gun falling out of his grasp.
Rafe ran across the room, grabbed the gun, pointed it in Trunk’s face, but the man was no longer a threat. He had passed out from shock and was lying there unconscious. Rafe shoved the gun down the small of his back.
“Goddamn man! What’s your fucking problem?” Smoke said.
Rafe didn’t answer but raised the guns to Smoke’s face again. “Good-bye, Smoke.”
“Wait. Wait!” Smoke threw his hands up. “Look, I ain’t plan on killing your girlfriend. It was supposed to be the girl who robbed me. Ain’t my fault she had a twin sister who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. If there’s anybody to blame, it’s the girl who stole from me. She’s the reason her sister’s dead.”
Rafe held the guns on Smoke. “There’s more.”
“What, I kill somebody else now?” Smoke said, sarcastically.
“Yeah, my little brother. You had him running for you.”
Smoke looked shocked by what Rafe had said. He looked as though he was thinking of trying to lie his way out of it, then just admitted, “Rafe, he wanted to be down. You was sent up. He wanted, needed to make some money. It’s all he ever wanted to do was be like you, so I—”
“You sent him to the West Side. You knew you ain’t have no business there. Why the fuck did you do that!” Rafe yelled at Smoke, closing what little distance there was between the two of them, pressing both barrels into Smoke’s cheeks.
Smoke raised his hands even higher, reared back in his chair, trying to distance himself from the tips of the guns.
“I never meant for it to happen, man. You got to believe me. I sent him on two, maybe three runs. Then I was gonna pull him. You got to believe me. I didn’t think they’d suspect a kid like him to be carryin’.”
“You suspected wrong, and they killed him.” Rafe cocked both guns, preparing to make Smoke pay for all the death he’d caused.
“Rafe!” Smoke yelled in a last attempt to save his life. “Think about this, man. Do you think I wanted Eric to die? That was my little man. After you went down, I cared for him like he was my little brother. Why would I want him to die?” Smoke asked, the tips of the gun barrels still shoved into his cheeks. “Hunh, Rafe? Why would I want to cause you pain? We came up together in the ’hood, poor as hell. We brothers. I love you, man. You know that.”
“None of that matters now,” Rafe said, his fingers still trembling on the triggers of the guns.
“Ain’t a day gone by that I wished I couldn’t bring him back, wished that I was there instead of him. It’s why I was giving your folks money, why I couldn’t let you go. I needed to give you something back to at least try to make up for what happened.”
“Money can’t make up for my brother’s life. Nothing can,” Rafe said, his eyes narrowing, his fists tightening around the guns. He was going to kill Smoke now, and Smoke seemed to know it.
“Rafe. Ain’t worth it, man. Kill me, you’re back in prison. You don’t ’ want that.”
“Don’t have nothing more to live for,” Rafe said, glancing down to see that Trunk was still out, before turning back to Smoke. “Close your eyes.”
“Your parents!” Smoke said quickly, tossing out his final attempt at living. “The three years you were in prison tore them up. I was there to see it. How you think they gonna feel with you doing fifteen to twenty? Gotta ask yoursel
f, Rafe. Will they even be alive when you get out?”
Would they be alive, Rafe thought. And even if they were, would it have been worth putting them through all those years of pain just so he could have his revenge? Rafe thought about Henny, what she would want him to do, and he knew the answer. Adding to the death toll would only do him harm and disgrace both her memory, and that of Eric.
Rafe stared down at Smoke. Saw the huge beads of nervous sweat crawling down his face. Smoke had killed, but if Rafe did the same he would only be stooping to Smoke’s level. Rafe lowered his weapons, forced himself to back away, slipped one of the guns into his waist.
“You made the right decision, man. Jail ain’t the place for you no more.”
“I know it’s not. But it is for you,” Rafe said, walking toward the door. “I’ll see to that.”
Rafe grabbed the doorknob and was about to turn it when he heard a metallic click. He glanced over his shoulder, saw the gun Smoke was holding, and heard the shot as orange fire spewed from the barrel.
SIXTY-THREE
WADE had called around and found out that Hennesey was taken to Cook County hospital. He had parked the car, sat there in the driver’s seat as Livvy continued to cry. She started before Wade even told her the news. From the look on his face when he walked through the door, she knew something terribly wrong had happened to her babies.
Without saying a word, Wade hurried to hug her. She fell into his arms, the sobs coming even harder. Livvy didn’t want to hear the news, but she had to know what had happened. She had to know just how bad it all was.
“Tell me,” she said between her sobs, her face pressed into Wade’s shoulder.
“Livvy, maybe you should calm down a little before—”
“Tell me!” she screamed. “Just tell me what happened to my children!”
“Hennesey was shot, Livvy. She’s dead.”
“God noooooooo! Please no!” Livvy cried out. Everything drained from her body. Every reason for living, for ever having lived, was now gone.
An hour ago, life was what she always wanted it to be. Now it was nothing, and neither was she. She wasn’t even a mother, for what real mother would let her child die like this? The image of her daughter’s slain, bloody body flashed through her head. She saw her eyes open, her bloody hand reaching out for Livvy, heard Henny’s voice cry out, “Mommy!”
Livvy went numb. Her legs collapsed, her body slipping through Wade’s arms, as she fell to the floor, crying at the loss of her daughter.
* * *
ON THE way to the hospital, Livvy asked Wade who had done this to her daughter. How he had found out about this?
“Rafe told me. He called and told me.”
And Livvy knew that it was going to have something to do with him. She cried even harder now, because she knew if she had just done more to keep that man away from her, Henny would still be alive.
AT THE hospital, Wade pulled the keys out of the ignition.
“Livvy, are you ready?”
“Yeah,” Livvy said, wiping tears from her face. “I’m ready.”
SIXTY-FOUR
WHEN SMOKE had shot at Rafe, the bullet missed, but it had come so dangerously close to him that he thought he heard it whistle past his ear, Rafe was left there standing dazed, both guns in his hands, bringing them up, squaring them on Smoke as Smoke fired off two more shots.
Rafe threw himself to the floor, repeatedly pulling the triggers of both his guns. The sound was deafening as the guns exploded, bullets ripping through the wall behind Smoke, into the desk, and a couple cutting through his body. Under the gunfire, Rafe heard him cry out when he was hit, saw the red mist spray from the wounds. But Smoke continued firing, Rafe seeing the bright flashes from his gun, hearing the bullets zip by his head as he fell, praying that he would not get hit but knowing he would.
When it was over, Rafe was on the floor in front of Smoke’s desk. He couldn’t see Smoke but heard movement behind the bullet-riddled desk, heard him moaning, gasping, Rafe crawled, peeked around the corner of the desk. Smoke was down, had fallen backward in his chair, looking with dead eyes blankly up toward the ceiling. His arms were splayed out to his sides, the gun no longer in his grasp, blood spilling from gunshot wounds in his chest, his arms, and his stomach,
Rafe scooped his arms under Smoke’s head and elevated it. Smoke’s eyes whirled about, finally finding Rafe’s, He looked deeply into them,
“I’m sorry about your little brother, Rafe,” Smoke said, his breath shallow, words barely audible,
“I’m gonna call 911, We gonna get you out of here,”
“Ain’t gonna happen. It’s okay,” Smoke tried to smile but was overcome by a short coughing fit, blood spilling from his lips, “I lived my life. It’s all good.”
Smoke’s body tightened, his eyes clamped shut as he winced in pain. He grabbed Rafe’s arms, squeezed, then slowly opened his eyes.
“Let me try and call someone, man. We can still get you out of here!”
“Un-uh,” Smoke said. “Don’t.”
His body seemed to be getting lighter, Rafe thought. His eyes no longer focused on Rafe but looked past him, toward the ceiling.
“The gun,” Smoke said, the words a whisper now.
“What gun?”
“You shot the cop with.”
“Yeah.”
“There,” Smoke said, looking over at the gun he had fired at Rafe. It lay a few feet from them. Rafe grabbed it.
“I was never gonna turn you in. Just pullin’ your chain, man,” Smoke said, laughing a little, the laugh turning into a cough, then more blood from inside him. “You believe me?”
“I believe you, Smoke.”
“Call my attorneys,” Smoke said, grabbing Rafe’s arms.
“What? Why?”
“Me dying is trouble for you.” Smoke was wheezing deeply now between each word. “They know everything. Tell ’em the truth. They’ll get you off. Don’t want no more pain to come to you.”
Smoke’s grip tightened even more on Rafe’s arms, as if something was trying to take him away, but he wasn’t trying to go. He had no choice, and as Rafe felt his grip loosening, saw his eyelids lower, felt his waning breaths become shallower and shallower, Smoke said, “We was brothers. Weren’t we? We was …”
“Yeah, Smoke. We was brothers,” Rafe answered, then watched Smoke die.
SIXTY-FIVE
RAFE would call Smoke’s lawyers, answer all the questions he could, deal with what he had to deal with, but first he called Wade.
“Come to the hospital, Rafe,” Wade told him.
“Henny’s dead. Ain’t nothing there for me.”
“Come, anyway. Her mother wants to speak to you.”
“She probably thinks I had something to do with Henny getting shot. Tell her I didn’t.”
“Tell her yourself. Give the girl’s mother that much respect. She deserves it,”
Rafe thought about it for a moment, “Yeah, all right.”
WHEN RAFE walked through the hospital doors, he saw Wade there waiting for him. He walked toward Rafe, his arms out, as if preparing to give him a hug. Rafe made no similar movements, but Wade hugged him anyway,
“I’m sorry about all that’s happened,” he said softly in Rafe’s ear, “Let me take you to see Livvy,”
Wade led Rafe to a room on the third floor, the door open, Livvy sitting inside.
Rafe looked at Wade as if afraid to go in, questioning what terrible things would happen once he did.
“Do it in your own time. But know that everything will be all right,” Wade told him. He rested a hand on Rafe’s shoulder, then walked off down the hallway.
Rafe took another look in the room, saw Henny’s mother again, her head down, grieving.
He should just go, he thought, but stopped himself, knowing that Henny’s mother did deserve the right to speak to him. He stepped into the room.
“I’m glad you didn’t leave,” Livvy said, as if she was watching him the e
ntire time he was outside the door, even though her head was down. “Have a seat.”
Rafe took the chair across from her.
“No. Here,” she said, placing a hand on the sofa cushion next to her.
Rafe slowly stood, stepped over, and lowered himself down beside her. Only then did she look up at him, pain and sadness in her eyes. He could tell she had been crying and knew that she blamed him for that.
She pulled her eyes away from his, looking at the blood that covered his shirt, that stained his forearms and hands.
“That’s hers, isn’t it?”
Rafe tried to cover his arms with his hands, as if to hide the reminder of the terrible thing that had happened to Henny. But he couldn’t. “Yeah, it’s her blood—and somebody else’s,” Rafe added.
“Whose?”
“The man who killed Henny.”
“How is he?”
“Dead,” Rafe said, looking away from Henny’s mother.
“You killed him for her?”
“Yes,” Rafe answered, annoyed. He stood up. “Look, Ms. Rodgers, I know you blame me for this, and I’m sorry about that. Sorry about everything that happened. I answered your questions. Ain’t nothing left for me to do around here, so you take care.” Rafe headed toward the door.
“You really loved her, didn’t you?” Livvy asked. Rafe stopped but did not turn around.
“You killed a man, could’ve gotten yourself killed because of how you felt about my daughter.”
“Yeah, that’s right.” He still didn’t turn to face her.
“You don’t like me much, do you, Raphiel?” Rafe turned around.
“It’s because I told you you couldn’t see her anymore? Because I said you weren’t good enough for her, isn’t that it?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Rafe slowly sat on the coffee table just in front of her.
“You have to understand. I did that thinking I was protecting my daughter from something that would ruin her life, from something like this happening. I been through the things that I thought someone like you could put her through and ain’t nothing good about it. She deserved better than that, better than you,” Livvy said, pulling at a tissue she had crumpled in her hand.