Fatal Agreements

by Ashley Fontainne

  Bradford nodded.

  Sam took another swig of coffee to help clear the buzzing inside her mind. “Dear God. Nana did know then. No wonder she hit the schnapps so hard the last few months! Maria’s release from prison must have been the catalyst! The woman wanted more cash to keep her mouth shut. Poor Nana! She spent all these years keeping it a secret! No wonder she had a heart attack.”

  Bradford mulled over the newest revelations. He didn’t like where his thoughts headed. “And both Maria and Caroline died on the same day. I don’t see how it was a coincidence.”

  “Oh, my God!” Sam burst from the chair. “They did die the same day!”

  “Shhh, don’t wake them. I have a few more things to discuss without other sets of ears listening.”

  Sam couldn’t stop shaking. It took three attempts to light a cigarette. “This isn’t really happening! It’s got to be dream.”

  “I believe those were the same words Charmaine said the day she found out about the cancer.”

  Bradford’s words were like a cold, hard slap across Sam’s cheek. “Point made. Hidden family secrets don’t amount to a hill of beans to the dead.”

  Bradford smiled. “Right. Now, let’s put aside our emotional connection to this disaster and come at it from both sides, thus securing any potential loopholes.”

  Sam furrowed her brow. “What are you suggesting, Bradford?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything. This is a friendly conversation about a hypothetical dilemma with viewpoints from the legal side and the law enforcement side.”

  Sam snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

  “What is the number one priority at the moment? Hypothetically, of course.”

  Sam took a deep breath. “Getting rid of any and all copies of the video Richard has of Resa and I.”

  “I agree. Having the little treasure permanently alters the trajectory of the game. Take away the power wielded by the enemy makes the battlefield even. If you had to venture a guess, any ideas where it might be hidden?”

  Sam’s heart thundered inside her chest. “He has a lockbox hidden inside a trunk at the foot of his bed. I know where he keeps the key.”

  “Does he know you are aware of those things?”

  “I don’t think so. The week he kept me locked inside the house until the bruises healed, I faked being asleep one night. I saw him get the key from the desk then open up the lockbox.”

  “Does Richard’s house have an alarm system?”

  “It does.”

  “Do you know the code?”

  “Yes, unless he’s changed it. And, I have a spare key he doesn’t know about. I made two because I’m always misplacing things. It’s in the bottom of my purse somewhere.”

  Bradford grinned so wide he thought his cheeks might burst. “Perfect.”

  “Where are you going with all this?”

  “I made a phone call yesterday to his office to set up a consultation for next week. I was told Richard Benton is out of the office until Monday.”

  “Wait, you did what? You made the call for my mother, didn’t you? She plans on confronting him?”

  Bradford didn’t respond.

  Sam sighed. “I’ll deal with that issue later.”

  Bradford nodded toward the parking lot. “If we get the video then a personal visit by any of you won’t be necessary, at least not until we’re ready for one—on our terms, not his. I sense he’s the ringleader of this macabre show and the other players are side attractions.”

  “Are you saying we go break into Richard’s house? Now? It’s almost two a.m.! Besides, he was at the funeral, so obviously, he’s around.”

  “If you have a key and know the code, you aren’t breaking in; you’re letting yourself in. And, I’m waiting for a phone confirmation he’s not around.”

  Sam scowled. “That would never fly in court.”

  “If we get caught, this will: I’m saying you, a person I know has been drinking, insisted we take a nice, leisurely drive to Little Rock in the wee hours of the morning. As a former officer of the law, I couldn’t let you get behind the wheel, so I drove, got lost and poof! We found ourselves at Mr. Benton’s residence. We noticed something amiss requiring a welfare check inside.”

  Sam returned the devious grin. “This isn’t your first visit to the dark side, is it?”

  “Nope. You legal beagles never could grasp if you want to catch a criminal, you must first understand them. Get inside their minds. Roll around in the same dirt they enjoy frolicking in. Think like them. Then you’ll always be two steps ahead of the game.”

  Bradford’s phone buzzed. Extracting it from his pocket, he smiled, holding it up for Sam to see. “Richard’s black Mercedes, right?”

  Squinting, Sam nodded.

  “Considering what you told me, I’m guessing he’s not the kind of guy who’d offer a friend the use of his vehicle?”

  “Friends. Pft. He doesn’t have any and no, he wouldn’t even let me drive Dragula.”

  “Dragula?”

  “Richard’s name for the car. What an idiot. Where was the picture taken? How long ago?”

  “I contacted a former colleague in Memphis. On a hunch, I asked him to do a drive-by at Kat’s Toys. He snapped it.”

  Sam’s jaw dropped open. “Holy hell! They are in cahoots together!”

  “It appears so.”

  “Will you text it to me please?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Why are you doing this for us? Mom told me you’re sick too. What about your family? You shouldn’t be risking…”

  “Samantha, I admired your mother from afar for years. I don’t have much time left, either. How often does one get a chance to play hero? Your mother doesn’t need to spend her remaining time plotting and planning such vileness. She’s too good for such things. I, on the other hand, am not. I did a lot of things over the years I’m ashamed of; looked the other way for one pathetic reason or another, rather than do the right thing. I’m willing to dirty my hands again to keep hers clean.”

  “I…don’t know what to say.”

  Rising to his feet, Bradford pointed to the door. “Say nothing, Samantha. Go find the key and then change into all black, preferably spandex or some other non-cotton material. Pull your hair into a ponytail and stuff it under a baseball cap or beanie. We don’t want any strands to escape. Leave your gun. I’ll take mine. Do you have any gloves?”

  Sam’s mouth gaped open. She couldn’t believe he was serious. “Uh, winter ones.”

  “No good. I’ll bring some from home.”

  “You’re going home? Why?”

  “I need to pick up a few things. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Please be ready. Change and then leave the others a generic note saying we’ll be back soon in case one of them wakes up while we’re gone.”

  Before Sam could respond, Bradford turned, heading to the parking lot. For a few seconds, she stared in shock at his rigid back, marveling at the man’s determination and grit.

  And the obvious love he had for her mother.

  Turning, she stepped inside, locking the door behind her, wondering how much crazier things would get before the entire nightmare was over.

  “WHERE DID YOU…?”

  “Shhh. Hold his mouth open.”

  Feeling as though in the midst of a vivid nightmare, Sam leaned over, clamping her fingers around Kip’s jaw. In one swift motion, Bradford swabbed the inside of his cheek, depositing the stick inside a long, plastic tube with Kip’s name written in black.

  Kip mumbled something, jerked his foot, and then went right back to snoring.

  Motioning for Samantha to follow him, Bradford left the bedroom then headed down the stairs. Once reaching the reception desk, he stopped and held up a finger to his lips. Grabbing a piece of paper and pen from the desk, he scribbled instructions.

  Edging closer, Sam read the words then opened her mouth. Bradford swabbed her cheek, took out a black marker and wrote her name on the side, then placed it in yet another t
ube.

  What he did next made Sam’s knees weak.

  After putting all three samples inside a large plastic bag containing another, bringing the total to four, Bradford sealed the bag then unlocked the front door.

  Stepping out into the cool night air, tears filled Sam’s eyes. The alcohol buzz from before was long gone and now, everything suddenly made sense.

  Kip’s dark, curly hair and blue eyes; the absence of one spec of familial resemblance to any Chapman.

  Though his hair was salt-n-pepper now, the curl was still intact, and Bradford’s eyes were a vibrant blue like Kip’s. Their body types and bone structure were similar, yet nothing stood out signaling Kip was a Wilson.

  She waited until once inside Bradford’s warm sedan before saying anything. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”

  Easing out of the parking lot, Bradford shook his head. “No. Well, I knew the possibility was high Maria’s baby was mine. Like so many others, we assumed she had an abortion—at least, quite a few hoped she did. Me? My gut always told me she gave birth then put the child up for adoption. I was right. I didn’t know the child’s identity until tonight. Now that I know, er, we all know, it’s time to solve the mystery once and for all, hence the DNA kit. I bought it the day I read Maria made parole. I followed her several times, waiting for an opportunity to catch her alone. I failed.”

  “I noticed four samples. Who’s the other?”

  “Like you, I’m sworn to secrecy. When the results come back, I’ll let you know who the lucky bastard is, though if bachelor number three is the winner, my lips are sealed. It isn’t my secret to share.”

  Sam’s mouth felt like it was full of cotton. There was another person out there who might be the father? What kind of woman had Maria been? “So, you were seeing her too?”

  Bradford nodded. “She was a beautiful woman. We both enjoyed the sex—no love involved on either side. Early twenties lust would be an appropriate description. I’m glad I didn’t fall for her because Maria had higher aspirations than shacking up with a poor man.”

  Sam feared her heart might burst. “Did you know she was seeing other men? My father?”

  Bradford took a deep breath, unsure how Samantha would take the news. “Yes, I knew she was seeing other men; lots of other men. To my knowledge, the list didn’t include your father.”

  “What…what are you saying? Dad’s name is on the birth certificate Kip had with him! I saw it with my own eyes before I burned it to a crisp. We all did!”

  “Actually, it only had S. Chapman listed.”

  Sam’s vocal chords locked tight. Bile burned her throat. Staring at the road ahead as Bradford’s car ate up the blacktop, she couldn’t form one word. Dueling emotions battled for control: Relief from the possibility Big Sam wasn’t the father competed with overwhelming revulsion it had been Pop who’d cheated on Nana. “That doesn’t prove a thing.”

  “I won’t go into the sordid details, let’s say we shared her on the same night. I, uh, left something at her place after, you know, and went back to get it. She was entertaining a new guest.”

  Sam held up a hand. “Enough. I get it.”

  Bradford switched topics. “I’m giving the samples to a close friend who owes me a favor. Actually, he owes me several favors since I covered his ass so many times even I lost count. The man was fond of playing the horses at Oaklawn while chugging one-too many beers. Please don’t mention any of this to Charmaine until we get the results back. My contact can have the answer within twenty-four hours. There’s no sense in getting her hopes up until we know for sure. Lord, life is full of surprises. When I heard Maria died, I thought I might exit this world without knowing whether I fathered another child. In less than a day, I’ll know for sure.”

  Sam couldn’t stop what was about to happen. “Pull over. Now.”

  Bradford heard the urgent tone in Samantha’s voice. He eased over to the shoulder on Highway 70, grateful no one was on the road.

  Bursting out of the sedan, Sam vomited so hard she feared a lung would spew out. The sound of footsteps crunching followed by a strong hand on her shoulder made her wince.

  “Here.” Bradford offered a bandana and bottle of water. “You okay now?”

  Rising to her feet, Sam cleaned her face then swished several mouthfuls of water around, attempting to rid the bitter taste on her tongue. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Good. Come on. There’s still work to do, and we need to finalize the plan for them all.”

  Sam returned to the front seat, surprised she felt a bit better after retching. I’m not doing this for me; it’s all about my family. For Resa. Get it together and end this!

  For several miles, neither one spoke. Sam’s resolve roared back while thinking about all the vile, painful things Richard had done to her over the years.

  She could do this.

  She would do this.

  She wouldn’t screw up or wimp out.

  Not now.

  “Thank you, Bradford, for stepping up to the plate, even though I believe there’s another item on your agenda besides helping my family.”

  “You’re right, but I promise you, I meant every word I said before. I love Charmaine, and until I take my last breath, I’ll firmly cling to the notion fate brought us all together to end the mistakes of the past. All of our pasts.”

  Glancing at the road sign noting Little Rock was 43 miles ahead Sam forced a wry, weary smile. “Amen to that.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Thursday, December 1, 2016

  THE CURVY ROAD was empty except for Bradford’s car. As he wound up the steep drive to Richard’s home, nestled on the back of two acres at Chenal Ridge in Little Rock, Sam fought the urge to throw up again. Her nerves were on edge from the illegal activity they were about to embark upon and the fact Bradford was making the windy drive with only the light of the moon as a guide.

  Seeing the traditional colonial butted up against the rise of the mountain, well-hidden by a crop of evergreen trees on both sides of the drive and around the front, made the hairs on her arms and neck stand erect.

  “Good thing he’s a private asshole,” Bradford deadpanned while creeping up the road. “His neighbors won’t see or hear a thing if we’re careful.”

  Sam scowled. “For this adventure, yes, but not so much when you’re screaming for help while getting knocked around and either no one can hear you or they hear yet ignore.”

  Putting the car into park, Bradford reached behind the front seat, pulling up a black bag. “Anger. Good. Use it to remain focused while we work. Rage pushes away fear and moral dilemmas. I know what’s swirling around inside your head. Here, put these on. Double up.”

  “Put on what? I can’t see.”

  “Disposable booties to cover your shoes. Slide them on then pull on the gloves.”

  “Like I told Mom and the others earlier, my ethics professor is rolling over in his grave.”

  “If you don’t want to join him on the other side, stop thinking like a lawyer. Embrace your inner criminal. There’s one lurking inside each of us. Free the caged beast, at least temporarily. We can debate ethical violations later.”

  The sound of their bodies moving on the leather seats as they maneuvered in the dark to dress sounded funny to Sam’s ears. It took several attempts to secure the latex gloves. She almost laughed at the absurdity of the entire situation.

  Slinging the bag’s strap over his shoulder, Bradford took a deep breath. “Follow right behind me. Keep quiet. We’ll head to the garage first to make sure the pic my friend took was Richard’s ride. Once inside, go get the key then head straight to the lockbox. If the flash drive is inside, grab it. We need to finish in under ten minutes.”

  “What do we do if he’s changed the lock or the code? What about the camera he used to film me and Resa? Should we check it as well in case there’s a memory card? Oh, and his laptop? What if it’s saved there too?”

  “Didn’t take you too long to think like a thief,�
� Bradford teased. Patting the bag, he smiled. “Already have plans for those items. Where does he keep his computer? The camera?”

  “The laptop’s in his den, if he didn’t take it with him. The camera’s in the closet of the master bedroom.”

  “Okay, your job is to get the flash drive and check out the camera. I’ll handle the laptop. If we can’t get inside by lock and key, we break a window. That will cut our time down to three minutes, tops, which is why I’ll leave the car idling.”

  Sam’s heart went into overdrive. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. My first experience breaking the law and it’s with a retired cop. Oh, the irony.”

  “And I can’t believe you thought some silly piece of paper would keep you safe from a lowlife abuser. Lawyers. In case you can’t see me, I’m shaking my head in derision.”

  Sam chuckled.

  “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Exiting the warm safety of the car, Bradford jogged up the remainder of the driveway, Sam right on his heels. He stopped at the side garage door, peeking inside.

  The space was empty.

  Sam’s heartrate slowed a fraction.

  Giving Sam a curt nod, Bradford bolted toward the front door. Sam’s fingers shook as she slipped the key into the deadbolt, praying Richard hadn’t updated the security system or lock.

  Despite the frigid air, sweat pooled under her arms.

  Closing her eyes, she twisted the key, nearly screaming with delight as it turned with ease.

  Opening the door, Sam ran through the foyer to the entrance of the living room where the keypad rested, Bradford right behind her brandishing a small flashlight. The steady beep beep beep of the warning alarm droned throughout the house. Ignoring the vile smells of Richard’s cologne and the underlying hint of leather reminding her of the past, she punched in the code.

  It didn’t work.

  “Oh shit! Code to my place!” Sam muttered under her breath.

  This time, she punched in the correct sequence. The alarm’s red light turned green, and the beeping ceased. Sam blew out her breath. “We’re good.”