Collusion

by De'nesha Diamond

  “What in the hell?” Tomi shouted.

  Abrianna snapped out her rage and scrambled away from a fallen Kadir.

  Bailey and Jayson disappeared, but returned shortly with a wrench to shut off the toilet’s main line.

  “Are you two all right?” Tomi asked, staring at the soaking wet couple.

  “Yeah. Fine,” Abrianna said. “Look, I gotta go.”

  “What?”

  Abrianna took off.

  “Wait. Where are you going?” Tomi chased after her.

  “I’m tired. We’re finished here, right?” Abrianna said, charging forth.

  “Yes. I guess. I got everything I need, but . . . will you please slow down? Aren’t you going to tell me what the hell happened back there?”

  “Your damn toilet broke,” Abrianna snapped. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “You’re not about to disappear on me again, are you?” Tomi fretted, keeping up. “You can’t pull a Houdini on me here. Without you, I’m going to get a lot federal heat.”

  Abrianna turned; she was surprised to see Kadir marching along with Tomi. She jerked her gaze away from him. “I’m not going to bail. I’ll be back tomorrow. We got to meet the lawyers . . . and then turn ourselves in, anyway. I just need a shower, clean clothes, and some sleep.”

  Tomi stared. “You don’t look so well.”

  “Yeah? How would you look after a toilet exploded in your face?” She turned and punched the button for the elevator.

  “All right. Then I guess I’ll see you two tomorrow,” Tomi said, though she wanted to add, “I hope.”

  The elevator arrived, and Abrianna and Kadir stepped inside, looking like drowned cats. Before the door closed, Tomi advised, “Try not to kill each other.”

  Abrianna and Kadir rode the elevator in silence. Their stubbornness continued during their jaunt to the parking deck. In the van, a grumpy Ghost roused from his nap and cursed them out for taking their sweet-ass time returning. “Why the hell are you two soaking wet?”

  “It’s a long story,” Kadir said.

  During the ride back to Ghost’s play-cousin’s warehouse apartment, he grumbled on about how fucked up it was that he’d somehow become the damn Uber driver shuttling them around town, risking his neck. When it was clear that he couldn’t draw them into an argument, Ghost shut the hell up.

  Abrianna and Kadir used separate showers, again irritating Ghost.

  “Oh. I guess that means I got to wait to wash my ass, huh?”

  Neither of them responded.

  He tossed up his hands. “Just fuck me. I get it.”

  Abrianna stripped down and stood beneath a pulsing stream of water. It felt good for a moment, but her body rebelled for not getting its fix, and she was back out of the shower and bending over the toilet, soaking wet and hurling. Pain roared through her head. She collapsed to the floor and hugged the cool porcelain for dear life. Despite having little in her stomach, her abdominal muscles spasmed relentlessly. She begged everyone she could think of, even the God she didn’t believe in, for relief. At some point, she passed out.

  Soon after, Kadir’s smooth baritone penetrated her cloud of pain.

  “It’s all right. I got you,” he whispered lovingly. He slid a robe on her like he was dressing a baby doll.

  Something cool was pressed against her head, and then she was lifted. She laid her head against his chest and sighed.

  “What’s wrong with her?” she heard Ghost ask.

  “She’s going to be fine,” Kadir assured, carrying her to the bedroom.

  “Are you sure? She looks like she needs a doctor.”

  Abrianna groaned and shook her head. “No. No doctors.”

  “Don’t worry. I got this,” Kadir said, settling her onto the bed. “I’ll take care of her.

  “Is she a junkie?” Ghost asked.

  Kadir snapped. “Look, man. I said I would take of her. This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

  “Maybe I—”

  “Ghost!”

  “All right.” Ghost held up his hands and backpedaled to the door. “I’ll let you deal with it.”

  “Thank you,” Kadir said tightly.

  Ghost closed the door behind him, and Kadir turned his attention back to Abrianna.

  “I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered.

  Kadir went to her. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He got her beneath the blankets. When she continued shivering, he raced out to find more. Once he had her buried beneath several blankets, he climbed into the bed and cocooned her.

  “It’s all right. We’re going to get through this together,” he assured, kissing her head. “I’m here.”

  Something about the sound of his voice lulled Abrianna into a peaceful mind space despite her body’s rioting spasms. Together. She liked the sound of that. She liked the thought of him always being around, too. That would change tomorrow, but tonight, he was seeing her at her worst again, and he stayed. She loved that.

  * * *

  President Walker woke knowing he faced a difficult day. Capitol Hill would be abuzz over the Washington Post’s story. After all, Sanders was his appointee. However, the staged suicide should stem the flow and keep the story from climbing higher up the ladder. Plus, Walker took pride in being a good actor. He had no doubts that he could convey the right balance of shock, remorse, and disappointment for the cameras.

  By five-thirty, he and his select group of Secret Service men made it to the Mall for their daily morning jog. It was important for him to stick to his routine. In his head, he rehearsed words of condolence for the judge’s family. He’d ask for an investigation. Congress would launch several; however, with Sanders dead, he was confident that no one could tie him to the speaker’s death.

  An hour later, Walker was back in the residence quarters of the White House, showering and preparing for his day. At the breakfast table, he kissed the first lady and settled down to eat and read the papers. He reached for the Washington Post first and regretted it.

  THE MURDERER IN THE WHITE HOUSE

  17

  America was plunged into shock when Tomi Lehane’s explosive article was published. The story was the breaking news on every news channel around the world. The stolen video from the Hay-Adams Hotel played on a constant loop. Calls flooded the Post’s phone lines, and Tomi’s in box exploded. On social media, #Murdererinchief trended to number one and held.

  Political pundits voiced doubts as to whether America’s institutions would ever recover. One thing was for sure, Abrianna Parker, Kadir Kahlifa, and Tomi Lehane were the hottest story in the nation. Everyone wanted to interview them.

  Everyone wanted a part in the political story of the century.

  Everyone waited with bated breath for a response from the White House.

  However, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue was on radio silence. The daily briefing was canceled. By noon, there was still no word on whether the president would address the nation from the Rose Garden or the Oval Office. But sooner or later, President Walker would have to say something. Silence was only pouring gasoline on the fire.

  All calls to Judge Sanders went unanswered, and by late afternoon, the world knew why.

  Just breaking, recently appointed Chief Justice Katherine Sanders was found dead in her Alexandria home this afternoon. Her oldest daughter, who’d grown concerned when her mother failed to return her calls after this morning’s blockbuster story about the judge’s alleged collusion with President Walker in murdering House Speaker Kenneth Reynolds, discovered the body. Initial reports suggest a suicide, but officials have yet to rule out foul play.

  #KillerJudgeSanders trended number two on Twitter.

  It didn’t take long for conspiracy theorists to get to work. Within minutes, half the country believed the country had a serial-killer-in-chief running the White House.

  The two people who couldn’t care less about the judge’s death were Abrianna and Kadir. As they rode to the FBI headquarters with Tomi and her colleague Jayson, they
heard the news of the judge’s death on the radio. Abrianna knew the question circling inside Tomi’s head. “No,” Abrianna answered without waiting for her to ask. “I didn’t kill her. Not that it didn’t cross my mind, but the woman was very much alive when we left last night.”

  Tomi studied her and then said, “I never figured Judge Sanders to be the kind of person to take the coward’s way out.”

  Abrianna jerked. “I’ve never understood that saying. Suicide is hardly cowardice. It takes a lot of courage to pull it off.”

  Kadir glanced at Abrianna, but she ignored his stare and continued with Tomi, “What? You think that she could ascend to the highest court in the land, only to crash down and become another number in the prison system?”

  “You knew that she would do this?” Tomi asked, surprised.

  “I didn’t say that. I never gave a single fuck about what she would do.”

  Driving, Jayson pulled into front of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and parked. A mob of reporters rushed the car. “Whelp. We’re here.” He glanced back through the rearview mirror. “Are you guys ready to do this?”

  Abrianna noticed Kadir fretting in his seat. She took his hand and squeezed.

  Kadir smiled, at least he tried, but there were too many flashbacks to the last time he was in this building. He’d been thrown in a cell for six years. He didn’t know whether he had it in him to do any more jail time, especially for something that he didn’t do. This time he had a better set of lawyers. The Post’s editor, Martin Bailey, had referred them to a top-notch firm who’d leaped at the opportunity to represent them.

  “Let’s get this over with.” Kadir opened his door and climbed out.

  Abrianna, Tomi, and Jayson followed his lead.

  The mob of reporters swarmed as the group made their way toward the front door.

  “Ms. Parker! Ms. Parker,” they shouted.

  “Can you tell us your reaction to Chief Justice Sanders’s death?” one reporter yelled.

  “Is there anything that you want to say to the president?” another one boomed.

  Yeah. He can fuck off and die.

  They made it to the door and rushed inside, escaping the barrage of questions. The reporters stopped shouting when the door closed.

  “Well. That was fun,” Abrianna mumbled, removing her shades.

  “Better get used to it,” Tomi warned with a smile.

  Attorneys Joseph Bowen and Marcus Johnson approached and introduced themselves. Behind them, a team of federal agents waited to take them into custody.

  Kadir’s gaze zeroed in on his old nemesis, Special Agent Quincy Bell, and his muscle-head partner, Roland Hendrickson.

  They flashed Kadir humorless smiles.

  “Long time, no see, Mr. Kahlifa,” Bell said, removing his toothpick. “Welcome home.”

  PART THREE

  Something Wicked This Way Comes

  18

  Cargill Parker read the Washington Post’s exclusive on his daughter at least a hundred times. He traced Abrianna’s picture in the paper with his finger and was hit by a longing that surprised him. She had developed into a gorgeous woman.

  Over the past six years, he had been impressed by Abrianna’s ability to disappear into thin air. He’d lost count of the number of private detectives he’d hired over the years. Every one of them proved useless in the end. Once, he’d thought that mouthy lieutenant Gizella Castillo from the D.C. police department had hidden Abrianna. He had her followed, but that didn’t pan out, either. Two years ago, he’d been convinced that Abrianna had been abducted again or had fallen prey to any number of dangerous vices on the streets and was dead.

  Then, suddenly, she was resurrected. She was back in the headlines—this time wanted for murder.

  That didn’t surprise him.

  Cargill placed a hand on the keloid scars across his chest and closed his eyes. His mind zoomed back twelve years. Nine-year-old Abrianna stood at her brother’s bedroom door, a gun smoking in her hands. Cargill remembered the smell and taste of his blood bubbling in his throat as he stared up at her from the floor.

  She looked magnificent, a beautiful, avenging goddess sent to slay the dragon.

  She failed.

  He was almost disappointed.

  Cargill opened his eyes and smiled. He wanted to see his daughter again. He would need to make it special if he was to impress her. He was curious to see whether Abrianna could still excite him despite having a woman’s body.

  He reached for his bourbon and climbed to his feet. He entertained thoughts about Abrianna as he walked toward the four-poster, king-size bed. With one hand, he unbelted his robe and exposed himself to Lovely, the eight-year-old Haitian-American girl who’d stopped pretending to be asleep.

  She bolted up and scrambled to a corner of the bed.

  “Ah. Ah. Ah,” he said, setting down his drink on the nightstand. “You know how angry I get when you make me chase you,” he warned. “You don’t want to make me angry, do you?”

  Tears filled the girl’s wide-eyed stare. At that moment, she reminded him of Abrianna. “Tonight, I’m going to call you Abrianna, and I want you to call me Daddy.”

  19

  The White House

  Vice President Kate Washington stormed into the Oval Office. “We have to do something. The press is having a field day.”

  President Walker stopped pacing. “No shit. Tell me something I don’t know.” He raked his hands through his silver mane. “How in the fuck is this shit happening?”

  “I don’t know. You were the one who was supposed to be handling everything, remember?”

  The president resumed pacing.

  Kate glanced to Davidson, who shrugged, lingering for some kind of instruction. “Can you please give us a few minutes?” she asked.

  Davidson looked to the president.

  Walker waved him off like he was an irritating fly.

  With a nod, Davidson exited the Oval Office.

  Once alone, Kate folded her arms and unloaded on the president. “You can’t stay locked in here forever. We have a rabid press, and the entire White House staff is in meltdown mode.”

  “Will you please stop telling me shit that I already know?”

  Kate shook her head. “I bet you also know what you have to do. The only thing that you can do.”

  Walker smirked. “You’re fucking loving this shit, aren’t you?”

  “Me?” She thumbed herself in the chest. “You want to blame this shit on me? Do I need to remind you that you ignored my advice, thumbed your nose at the awesome responsibility of this office? Was it my fault that you and your Secret Service buddies couldn’t keep your dicks in your pants on a presidential trip in Brazil? Was it my fault that your shenanigans were leaked to the damn press and given to the Congress for ammunition to impeach you? If none of that shit happened, Sanders’s nomination would’ve never been held up in the first place!”

  “And what? She wouldn’t have had the excuse to go and kill the man?” Walker charged.

  Kate shrugged.

  “You’re actually excusing Sanders’s motive?”

  “I never said that.”

  “You’re implying it while that dead bitch is dragging me down the drain. Nobody believes that I didn’t have shit to do with this.”

  Kate rolled her eyes.

  “See? You don’t even fucking believe me.”

  “That’s because I know you. Go play that victim shit with the first lady because if you pull that bullshit with the public, they’ll have your head for it.”

  “No. I can beat this.”

  Kate was incredulous. “If you don’t step down, and soon, you will be impeached, and you know it!”

  The president hung his head.

  Kate read defeat in his posture and urged in a softer tone, “Step down, Daniel. It’s over.”

  Walker lifted his chin, waltzed behind his desk, and buzzed his secretary. “Emma, get Davidson in here again.”

  Kate frowne
d. “What are you doing?”

  He ignored her, and a minute later, Davidson returned to the office. “Yes, Mr. President?”

  “I need you to do some hunting. I need everything you can find on this Ms. Abrianna Parker and everyone who’s close to her. I mean everything. Leave no stone unturned.”

  Davidson nodded. “Yes, sir, Mr. President.”

  “Daniel, what are you doing?” Kate asked.

  Walker smiled. “What does it look like? If I’m going down, I’m going down fighting.”

  * * *

  Castillo’s private investigating firm, the Agency, usually took cases spying on cheating spouses. Occasionally, companies hired her to do background checks, but what kept her up at night was her pet project: searching for lost children. Children who’d disappeared, without a trace. In recent years, she found some of them hidden in the seedy underworld of sex trafficking.

  Since she’d founded the Agency, she’d recovered eight girls and three boys. Two of the girls were pregnant. All three boys were dead.

  Staring up at her personal corkboard with the pictures of missing kids still pinned to it, Castillo realized that it was time to return her attention to them. Yet Tomi’s exclusive interview with Abrianna Parker kept needling her. Castillo was shocked and wrestled with feelings of betrayal. Tomi didn’t owe her anything—let alone any confidence about breaking this story. However, Castillo had seen Tomi the other night, and the chick never said anything about having been in contact with Abrianna, let alone that she was interviewing her for an exclusive article.

  She tossed the paper aside and retrieved the check that Tomi had given her for services rendered. She’d been hired only to investigate Speaker Reynolds. What am I upset about? Like Shawn White said, no one had asked for her help.

  Castillo shook her head. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true . . .

  * * *

  Six years ago

  “What in the hell do you mean, she’s gone?” Cargill Parker bellowed. The six-foot-three towering white man sucked all the oxygen out of the room. He was intimating, and Castillo was not easily intimidated. It took a full minute for Castillo to even notice the nervous café-au-lait black woman cowering by his side.