by Iris Bolling
“No, I just never thought it would be an issue,” JD replied with a sigh.
Calvin shook his head. “Tracy is the type of woman most men dream of. She’s very easy to look at, attentive, easy to talk to about anything and makes you feel like you are the only man on the planet when she looks at you. In what world did you think no one else would notice her?”
JD smiled. “I don’t know, Calvin. Why is it that I’m just seeing all of that?”
“Because you’re just realizing what’s important in life. You weren’t ready to see it then; now you are.”
“I’m not sure how to proceed now. I had a plan, but now that I’ve seen her with James Brooks I’m afraid to take a chance on losing her.”
“James Brooks from Special Services? Whew, heavyweight. Is she really that important to you, JD, or is this a situation of JD just not wanting to lose out?”
JD smoothed his tie down and really thought about Calvin’s question. “Calvin,” he said with the seriousness he used in court to sway a jury, “I can’t tell you why, but I know down in my gut that Tracy is not just another woman for me.” He hesitated for a moment then smiled nervously. “I’m not used to being insecure about a woman. I’m lost here. I need help with this one.”
“Okay,” Calvin stated, “if you are serious, throw your plans out of the window. They don’t work anyway. Don’t play games with her. She’s not Carolyn or Vanessa and you know that. Step out on faith. Let her know what you feel.”
JD left the office late. He was reviewing the Gonzalez files and decided he would get more accomplished by using his computer at home. The system Tracy taught him years ago was still very effective for the type of research he needed on this case. This particular gang appeared on the surface to be dangerous and extensive. JD knew he was going to need additional help. He needed to make some calls to get his team together. Since this was a Latino gang, he was going to need someone on board that spoke the language. Then he would need a representative from the AG’s office on board full time until the case was done.
JD’s house phone was ringing as he walked through the door. He looked at the number and answered the call. “Hey, Mom.”
“JD, a package came here for you today. It’s heavy.”
“Where’s it from?”
“Lowe’s.”
Lowe’s? JD thought. He didn’t remember ordering anything from there. “Okay, Mom, I’ll come by Saturday to get it. How are you doing today?”
“Just fine, son, just fine.”
“Mom, I need to make some calls, so I’ll have to talk to you later.”
“Okay, son, talk to you later.”
JD worried about his mom being at the house by herself. The neighborhood had changed so much. But she loved that house and was not leaving it. He refocused, and then called Brian.
Chapter 9
JD looked at his watch. It was well after six in the evening. He had spent the last two weeks focusing on the Gonzalez case. The event from the case was heart wrenching and he needed a break. Whenever his mind was free, thoughts of Tracy would creep in. JD walked over to the window of his office. He’d shared the scene with Tracy one night. He smiled as he thought about the gift she sent to his mother’s house. When he opened the package from Lowes, the note thanked him for his help with Turk and reminded him to wrap things up. JD checked his watch again. It’s not that late, he thought, and decided to call her.
“Next Level Consulting,” Tracy said into the phone.
“Hi, Tracy, it’s Jeffrey.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice.“Hello, Jeffrey.”
“Are you busy?” he asked.
“No,” she replied. “Everyone’s left for the day.”
“Am I holding you up?”
“No, I still have some work to do. What’s wrong?”
“Why do you think something is wrong?”
“I can hear it in your voice. You sound a little stressed,” she replied.
Damn, how did she pick up on that? He wondered. “Sorry about that.” He smiled. “I was just going over a case that’s not sitting well with me.”
“What’s it about?”
“A 13-year-old girl died during a gang initiation.”
Sounding very concerned, she said, “I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”
“It wasn’t good.” He sighed.
“Hmm, that much I know; she died, it can’t be but so good. What happened?”
JD smiled, then sighed. “She was um, gang raped. That was her initiation, a gang rape. Thirteen years old, probably still a virgin, but the people who did this did not care. They just had their way with her, without a moment’s thought of her well being. The medical examiner said she was probably unconscious after the 10th one.”
“Hmm.” Tracy sighed. She could hear the frustration in Jeffrey’s voice. “How many were there?”
“At least 20.”
“With so many assailants and DNA, it’s going to be difficult to get a conviction.”
“Yeah,” he replied, his voice rising, “it will, but I told the medical examiner I wanted everyone we could identify. I want each one of those bastards to pay for what they did to that child. Cases like this piss me off.” He caught himself. “Whoa.” He stopped and remembered whom he was talking to—no, yelling at. “Hmm.” He exhaled. “I am sorry. I lost it there for a moment.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” Tracy smiled. “You’re very passionate about your work. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I don’t know about that. It’s cases like this that keep me up at night.”
“That’s not good,” she replied. “Have you talked to the girl’s parents yet?”
“No, we usually don’t deal with the parents from this office.”
“Why not? I’m sure her parents would like to know someone other than them cares about what happened to their daughter. It would ease their minds to know someone is seriously looking into what happened and won’t allow their daughter’s death to be in vain. Besides, it may help you to talk to someone who would be just as passionate about the child as you. Who better than the parents? Let them know who you are and what you are going to do to get justice for their daughter. Tell them what steps you are going to take to make sure this does not happen to another child. It will certainly help them to sleep better at night, and it will help you, too.”
JD hesitated. He had not spoken with her in weeks and here she was helping him cope yet again. It wasn’t so much what she said—as a prosecutor he knew this—but having her reiterate the sentiment was good to hear. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Know just the right thing to say to make me feel better.”
Tracy smiled. “Did I succeed?”
“Yes, you did,” he replied, hesitating to say anything more. “Thank you, for being there for me.”
“I’ll always be here, Jeffrey,” she said. Silence. Too much, she thought, clean it up, girl, quick, clean it up. “What did you call me for?” She asked as she cleared her throat.
Trying to remember why he called, he said, “Oh yeah. I wanted to thank you for my gift.”
“Oh, it arrived,” she said with excitement. “Did you wrap things up?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” He smiled.
“Have you forgotten anything about your dad?”
“Just the opposite,” he said, a little excited. “Memories started to flood my mind.” He laughed.
“That’s a good thing.”
“Yes, it was. Thank you.”
“You are very welcome.” Tracy smiled.
Silence again, but JD wasn’t ready to hang up the telephone. “Are you going to be in the office long?”
“I don’t know; it depends on how much I can get done on this project,” she replied.
“Don’t stay there too late.”
“I won’t.”
“Well, I guess I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay.”
She started to say “bye,” but then she said, “Umm, Jeffrey?”
“Yes,” he answered, sounding a little anxious. Silence again.
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “That’s okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“All right,” he said, disappointed.
Neither one wanted to end the call; it seemed like another moment lost.
“Tracy, have you had dinner yet?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Would you like to go grab something?”
Silent, Tracy was trying to gather her thoughts. Have dinner with him or go home to a lonely dinner; hmm, let me think. “Sure.”
Releasing his breath, he said, “All right.” He smiled. “I’ll be over to pick you up in about 15 minutes.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
Tracy went into her restroom to freshen up. She looked in the mirror. Her hair looked a mess. She plugged in the hot curlers, then washed her face, brushed her teeth and used mouthwash. A girl should always be prepared for whatever; one never knows. Oh stop that, she thought, remembering the last time she saw him with that gorgeous woman. She could not compete with that. Just like Cynthia said, “Jeffrey is a player and a high stakes player at that. You don’t get to play in his league. Remember your place.” Tracy curled her hair, and then changed her shoes. She had worn her white linen trousers with a white sleeveless tee, a red linen blazer and white sneakers to work. She had not intended to go out tonight. However, just in case a client stopped in, she had her red heels under the desk. Jeffrey was 6 foot 4; she was 5 foot 6. She changed into her heels, which gave her another three inches. Maybe that would help her look like she belonged with him. Tracy was looking in the mirror putting on some lip gloss, and then she stopped primping. “You will never look like you belong with him,” she said aloud to herself.
“Who are you talking to?” JD asked from her office.
Tracy stepped back to see him standing by her desk. Damn, I’m going to have to put a bell on that front door. She smiled. “Hello, Jeffrey.”
“Hello, Tracy.” He smiled. “Who are you talking to?”
“Myself,” she said as she unplugged the hot curlers.
He walked over to the bathroom doorway. “Are you going to continue this one-on-one conversation or can we go get something to eat?” Looking around the restroom, he said, “Man, this is nicer than some bathrooms in people’s homes. You two have some of everything in here.” He stopped and looked around. “Please explain why you have a shower stall in here?”
“Now, that’s a dumb question. You are talking about two women who like looking fresh. One never knows when the man of her dreams may walk through the door. Besides, an office would not be complete without a shower.”
“My office doesn’t have a shower. And there are no dumb questions, only curious people seeking to be educated.” JD leaned against the doorjamb. “And you know, more times than not, the person of your dreams could be standing right in front of you and you may not recognize it.”
Raising an eyebrow, she thought, No truer words have ever been spoken. “Touché, Mr. Harrison, I stand corrected.” She walked past him into her office. “And you are right.”
“On which point?”
“Both.” She smiled. “Are we ready to go?”
He walked towards her. “Yeah, let’s go.”
JD drove his car to a building on Fifth Street near the old John Marshall Hotel in downtown Richmond, not 10 minutes from her office and about five minutes from his. They walked down about five steps from the sidewalk to a double entry door. Jeffrey took a card out of his wallet and slid it down an electronic sensor. The door opened. An older, very distinguished looking gentleman dressed in a black suit greeted them in what one would call a vestibule. “Good evening, Mr. Harrison. Your table is ready and your meal will be served shortly.”
“Good evening, Mr. Brown,” JD replied. “Please, JD would be fine.”
The gentleman opened the door to one of the most elegant rooms Tracy had ever seen. There were a number of people inside, but it was not crowded. JD put his hand on her back and pushed her forward. “What is this, Jeffrey?”
“This is the Renaissance.”
“The nightclub?” she asked, very surprised.
“No, the nightclub is upstairs with the public entrance. This is the private club.”
“My goodness, this is really nice.”
The Renaissance was just that: a place where you could revitalize yourself. There was a bar area but no stools surrounding the bar; there were tables and chairs in the open area for those who wanted to take a seat. The décor was a rich burgundy, black and gold. The area made you feel like royalty just standing there. As they continued walking, they came to a section that was about midway through the building. The area to the far left had huge flat panel TVs mounted on three walls. Burgundy and black sofas were arranged in a semicircle around each TV for direct viewing. The room was sound proof with double glass doors leading into it. Closer to the left were six pool tables with enough room between them not to interfere in anyone’s game or conversation. Pool sticks of all sizes and quality lined the walls. To the right were several plush card tables that were sectioned off, with four tables in each section. Each section had a tournament bracket board mounted on the wall. As they walked on, they came to another set of double doors. A man dressed in a black suit was standing behind a podium. Jeffrey handed his card to the man. He swiped it, gave it back to Jeffrey.
“Mr. Harrison, they are ready for you.”
Two other men opened the double doors. The area was exclusive, with enclosed booths. You could only see people as you walked past to get to your station. Each station had French glass doors with gold trim that slid open, individual music systems, soft leather sofas that allowed you to adjust the distance between you and your guest, and a personal waitress or waiter. Tracy was so in awe, she did not know they had reached their station. Trying hard not to act like she was out of her element, which she was and she knew it, Tracy stepped inside the station and noticed the gold plaque on the door was engraved “Jeffrey Daniel Harrison.” Tracy slid into a seat and waited for the waiter to leave before speaking. “Jeffrey, can they hear us in here?”
“No,” he replied, wondering why she asked the question, “why?”
“Well,” she began, “when they said your table was ready, they literally meant your table.” She pointed to the name on the door.
JD smiled, took off his tie and put it on what appeared to be a nightstand. Then he placed his cell phone and keys there.
“Are you getting comfortable?” Tracy asked.
He smiled. “That’s what this place is to me; somewhere I can be comfortable, just like home.”
“Jeffrey, if your home is like this place, you’ve got to be doing something illegal. Is there something you need to tell me?” she said jokingly.
“Are you impressed?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “Are you trying to impress me?”
He didn’t answer, but he was.
Tracy looked around. “I have never seen anything like this.”
“You’ve been too sheltered.”
“Well, yeah, but sheltered or not, this is awesome. How do you know about this place and how did you rate your own private room?”
“My friend Douglas owns this place.”
“I believe your drinks are here.” The waiter stepped aside to allow the waitress in with an iced tea for Tracy and a Heineken for Jeffrey. Both waiters left the room and closed the door.
“You ordered ahead?” Tracy asked.
“Yeah, I do it as a courtesy. That way it won’t take so long to get your food.”
“What did you order?”
“A couple of steaks, baked potatoes and salad.”
She smiled, nodding her head in agreement. “Why do you get a beer and I get an iced tea?”
Damn, she was beautiful, he thought. �
�Because I had a hard day and need a beer and you don’t drink.”
“Are you driving?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then you should not be drinking either.”
“A beer has a point-two alcohol level. Point eight is the legal limit. I think I can have one or two.”
“Actually, for your size and weight, you can have four before you are remotely affected.”
JD laughed. “You kill me with that kind of stuff.”
Tracy smiled. “I turn most people off with that kind of stuff, but I can’t help it.”
“It doesn’t seem to turn James Brooks off,” he said. Damn, he didn’t mean for that to come out.
Tracy looked at Jeffrey. “Where did that come from?”
JD sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“James Brooks is a very intelligent man. He can hold a conversation about anything. But he’s a client, nothing more,” Tracy offered.
JD took a drink and looked around uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “I had no right to go there.”
Changing the subject, Tracy asked, “How often do you come here?”
“When I need to relax or think.”
“Which is it tonight?”
He looked up at her, took a swallow of his beer and said, “Relaxation.”
Tracy didn’t realize it, but she had been sitting up the whole time. She squirmed a little.
“Sit back, relax. I swear nothing will happen to you in here.” JD smiled.
Tracy sat back, placed her purse on the seat beside her and crossed her legs. She looked at him. “Why are you so tense, Jeffrey, is it the case?”
He sighed heavily. “This type of case tends to bring out the worst in me.”
“Are you going to talk with the girl’s family?”
It felt good having someone to talk to about his cases. Normally, he would have to work his way through the madness. “I will,” he stated. “You know, my dad used to tell me all the time, the worst thing parents go through when a child dies before they do is not knowing what happened or the guilt of not being there when their child needed them. He used to make it a point to be able to answer those questions for the victim’s family.”