Collusion

by De'nesha Diamond

  “However, the wild confession tape of Judge Sanders obtained by the Washington Post saying that I or anyone in my administration are in any way connected to this horrific crime is preposterous. On that taped confession, I hear nothing but a desperate woman before taking her life. Granted, the chief justice is no longer here to defend or be cross-examined in a court of law, but we have no idea if this confession was coerced. I intend to fight these allegations. However, it is also clear to me that I won’t be able to do this while serving the people here at the White House.

  “Instead of putting the nation through a partisan impeachment trial, I’ve decided to resign from the presidency, effective noon tomorrow. At that time, Vice President Kate Washington will be sworn in as your president. I am both sad and disappointed that I will not be here to work on your behalf, but I am confident that the leadership of America will be in good hands . . .”

  After hearing the president’s speech, Jayson joked, “Microphone drop, bitches.” He crumpled a wad of paper and tossed it for a three-pointer into the wastebasket in Tomi’s cubicle.

  Tomi smirked. “It’s about time. He held on by his fingertips for as long as he could, that’s for sure.”

  “Okay, Rock Star. Your story brought down a presidency. Your future is bright in this town. Your life is about to change. You’re a big fucking deal now, baby girl.” He held up a hand for a high-five.

  “Baby girl?”

  His smile waned. “I just . . .”

  “I’m kidding. Lighten up.” Tomi grinned and whacked him on the shoulder.

  “Ow.” He rubbed his shoulder.

  “Don’t start.”

  Jayson zipped his lips.

  Tomi’s colleagues broke out in applause as they clustered around her cubicle. Soon, red plastic cups filled with champagne were passed around for a toast. Many of her coworkers were sincere with their congratulations; most were jealous.

  Tomi loved it and was on top of the world.

  * * *

  Solitary confinement destroyed the weak minded. It never bothered Kadir. He used the time to pray, meditate, and read. When he wasn’t doing that, he thought of Abrianna. What was she going through? How was she holding up? And was she still numbing herself with drugs?

  His attorney told him about Abrianna doing media interviews to press for his release. He was pleased that she cared so much, but he held little hope that she would prevail, but Johnson said that public opinion was breaking their way. Still, Kadir refused to get his hopes up. When he had chosen to help Bree, he knew that he could land back behind bars.

  A steady march of booted feet drew Kadir’s attention. He lifted his head from the concrete floor and sat back onto his folded legs. Keys jangled into the locks and then the door slid open with a thunderous clang.

  “All right, convict. On your feet.”

  Kadir eyed the two guards.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself,” the barrel-chested guard barked.

  Cautious, Kadir rose to his feet and then followed their added commands. Once he was cuffed, he was led out of solitary confinement. An hour later, he was being processed out and released.

  Outside the federal prison, a horde of photographers barreled toward him. Microphones out and cameras pointed, they hurled questions a mile a minute. He couldn’t make out a single one.

  A horn honked.

  Kadir spotted a black SUV at the curb. The back window rolled down and Abrianna’s beautiful face appeared.

  “Excuse me,” he said, and then bogarted his way toward the SUV.

  The reporters and cameramen followed with endless questions.

  “Need a lift?” Abrianna asked.

  When the reporters saw who was in the vehicle, they transformed into a mob.

  Kadir muscled his way into the backseat and powered up the window. “Hey, you.”

  “Oh, my God,” Abrianna exclaimed. “Your face looks worse.” She slid across the seat and cradled it in her hands to examine the bruises.

  Kadir hissed, “Easy.”

  “Sorry.” She lightened her hold.

  Kadir stared, marveling how she grew more beautiful every time he saw her. “It’s okay.”

  “What happened?” Tomi asked from the front passenger seat, looking equally aghast.

  “Hey, Ms. Lehane. Prison happened.” He smirked.

  Concern etched every inch of Abrianna’s face, but he wasn’t about to go further into it.

  Julian spoke up from the driver’s seat. “Where to?”

  Kadir’s smile expanded. “Oh, hey.”

  “Long time no see,” Julian said.

  “You can say that again.”

  Abrianna huffed. “I can’t believe they kept you this long. Bastards. They should have released you a long time ago.”

  “Yeah, well. The FBI likes dick-swinging contests. The fact that we evaded them for as long as we did didn’t go down too well.”

  Kadir realized that Julian was waiting for an answer. “I guess my place.”

  “Great. Mind sharing the address?”

  Kadir chuckled and gave him the information.

  Julian pulled away from the curb and the shouting reporters.

  Abrianna drifted back to the other side of the seat. “I’m glad you’re out of there.”

  “Me too.” He cocked one brow. “How did you manage it?”

  “Public pressure.” She drew a deep breath. “Tomi and I must’ve gone on every news show in America, railing about how the government was treating you like a criminal instead of a hero. Tomi helped me build a social media movement and campaign.” She shook her head. “It’s been a lot of work in a short amount of time.”

  Touched, Kadir marveled, “You did all of that for me?”

  Abrianna met his gaze. “You had my back, so I had yours.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “Thanks.”

  “No need to thank me. It’s what friends do.”

  He nodded. “Friends.” Just friends.

  Tomi spoke up. “I’m glad that you’re out. I hope you don’t mind giving me the first scoop on your release. Should only take a few minutes. We’ll be finished by the time we arrive at your place.”

  “Nah. Not at all. Shoot.”

  Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the Park Flat apartments and, as Tomi promised, the interview was over.

  The second Kadir stepped out of the vehicle, Mook shouted, “I know that ain’t my man Kadir.”

  The neighborhood junkie rushed the SUV, but once he was within a couple of feet, he reeled back. “Damn, man. Did you get the license plate of that truck that ran into your face?”

  Kadir smiled. “Hey, Mook.” He held up his hand and then slapped palms and bumped shoulders with him one time. “Good to see you.”

  “Yeah? Good to see you, too, man. At least the parts of you that are still recognizable. You know, I have just the thing to help you out with that busted lip.” Mook shoved a hand into his oversize military jacket.

  Kadir stayed the man’s hand. “That’s okay, Mook. I’m good.”

  “You sho’?” Mook jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “I could run to my man working out of Kane’s butcher’s shop and get you a fat steak for that eye at least.”

  “Nah. Don’t sweat yourself. I’ll take care of it.”

  The SUV pulled off. Abrianna moved next to Kadir and grabbed Mook’s attention as she stopped beside him. “Well, hello.” Mook scratched his dry Afro as he eyed her up and down. “Aren’t you a tall drink of water? K-man, is this all you?” Mook wormed in between them and beamed his buttery smile.

  Abrianna’s lips twitched in amusement. “Another friend of yours, Kadir?”

  Mook answered instead. “You know it. Me and K-man here go way back—at least eight months.” He cocked his head. “Hey. Haven’t I seen your face before?”

  She lifted a brow.

  Kadir pulled the junkie aside. “Down, Mook. You’re scaring her off.”

  “Oh. All right. I hear you talking.” He lift
ed his fist for a bump.

  Kadir took Abrianna by the elbow and escorted her toward his building.

  “Oh. So it’s like that?” Mook said, watching the couple walk away. “You’re going to leave me hangin’?”

  Kadir waved and kept it moving.

  “You have a lot of interesting friends.”

  “Look who’s calling the pot black,” he joked. At his apartment door, Kadir snatched off an eviction notice and groaned. “I guess I can’t be too surprised.” He reached into his pocket. “Shit.”

  “What? Is there a problem?”

  He checked his pockets again. “Look, stay here. Let me see if anyone is in the leasing office who can give me a key.”

  “You’re joking, right?” she asked.

  “No. It’ll take just a few minutes. I’ll be right back.”

  “No need,” she said, shaking her head. “I got it.” She unzipped her cross-body purse and removed a pouch.

  “What’s that?”

  “A little sumpthin’ sumpthin’ that I try to never leave home without.” She winked and knelt before the door. Kadir watched her slide two thin metal tools into the keyhole. “You’re kidding me. You pick locks?”

  She shrugged. “You hack into computers.”

  “That’s not the same thing.”

  “Of course it is. I break into physical doors and you break into digital doors. Both are breaking and entering without permission. Same thing.” The gear shifted with a click. Abrianna smiled, twisted the knob, and open the door. “Voilà.” Abrianna stood. “You’re wel-come.”

  Kadir shook his head. “You’re full of surprises.”

  “Thank you.”

  * * *

  Offices of the Washington Post

  Jayson rolled into Tomi’s cubicle in an office chair, startling her. “Do you want to see something interesting?”

  Tomi removed her hand from over her heart. “Jesus, Jayson. You startled me.”

  “I hate to pull you away from your next blockbuster story, but I got something that you’ll find interesting.”

  “Oh?” she asked, turning away from her computer. “And what’s that?”

  Jayson plopped an open magazine on her desk. “Take a look at that.”

  Tomi glanced at the pages and shrugged. “What am I looking at?”

  Jayson stabbed a finger at an article at the bottom. Beside it was a black-and-white photograph. “Look familiar?”

  She blinked. The guy in the black Mercedes. Tomi read the name under the picture. “Dr. Charles Zacher. Doctor?” She shook her head and read the first paragraph. “Research and development director of T4S.” She frowned. “Where have I heard that company’s name before?” Her mind zipped through her mental database. She came up with the answer. “A security firm.”

  “A paramilitary security firm,” Jayson corrected.

  “A private security firm with government tags?” she asked.

  Jayson shrugged. “If it makes no sense, then it makes perfect sense in this town.”

  But what would a guy like that want with me?

  “Anyway, I remember that sketch you were drawing when I came across this. It’s an old Newsweek issue. I swiped it from my dentist’s office this morning. I thought that you’d be interested.”

  Tomi tuned Jayson out while she read.

  He asked, “Did I do good?”

  “Huh? Oh. Yeah. Good. Thanks. I appreciate you bringing this to my attention.”

  “Do you think that there is some kind of story there?” he asked, gauging her expression.

  “I’m not sure. But I’ll let you know as soon as I find out.” She flashed a smile, hoping that he’d take the hint and leave so that she could finish the article. The phone rang, arresting her attention. “Hold on.” She picked up the receiver. “Tomi Lehane.”

  “Hey, this Sally is down at the receptionist desk. You have a visitor.”

  “A visitor?” She wasn’t expecting anyone. “Who is it?”

  “She says her name is Marion Parker.”

  “Parker?”

  “Yes. Hold on a sec.” The sound was muffled, but then Sally returned to the line. “She said that you know her daughter.”

  “Oh?” Tomi blinked, caught off guard. This was an interesting turn of events. “Send her up.” She placed the receiver back into its cradle.

  “Another Parker?”

  “Yeah. Bree’s mother.”

  “Mother?” Jayson inquired. “Problem?”

  “No. Well, I don’t know,” she answered. She couldn’t imagine what the next twist would be in the Abrianna Parker saga. She stood from her chair and peered over the heads of her colleagues in time to see Marion Parker arrive on her floor. She recognized her instantly, not because she looked like her daughter; she didn’t. Marion Parker was a honey-colored southern belle who apparently took her conservative style and fashion tips from a sixties Vogue catalog. Tomi recognized the woman from years ago after Tomi had been rescued from Dr. Avery’s basement. Marion and her husband were on a desperate hunt to find Abrianna after she’d run away from the hospital.

  “That is Abrianna Parker’s mother?” Jayson asked.

  Marion Parker stopped at the first desk she came to on the floor. A colleague pointed the elegant woman in Tomi’s direction.

  Tomi waved.

  “Do you think that she’s here regarding her daughter or her husband?” Jayson asked.

  “We’re about to find out.” She pushed up a smile as Marion approached.

  “Hello, are you Tomi Lehane?” Marion asked in a lyrical southern twang.

  “Yes, I am. And you’re Marion Parker?”

  “I am.” The women shook hands.

  Marion’s gaze went to Jayson.

  “Oh! I’m sorry. This here is Jayson Brigham. He’s a photographer for the paper . . . and he was just leaving.”

  “Huh? Oh, yes.” Jayson also shook Marion’s hand before reaching for his chair.

  “Why don’t you leave that here so Mrs. Parker can sit?” Tomi suggested. “I’ll bring it back to your cubicle later.”

  “Oh. Sure. No problem.” Jayson smiled again. “Nice to have met you,” he said, exiting the cubicle.

  Marion began, “Thank you, Ms. Lehane, for taking a few minutes to talk with me.”

  “It’s no problem. Please, have a seat.”

  “Thank you,” she said and then folded herself into the chair, back erect, legs crossed at the ankles.

  Tomi marveled at how polished the woman was. There wasn’t a single hair out of place. She was a real-life throwback picture of the sixties, right down to the strand of pearls wrapped around her neck. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Parker?”

  “Please. Call me Marion.”

  “All right, Marion. How can I help?”

  “Well, I hope that you don’t find this too forward, but I have been following your articles in the paper lately. And I saw the interview you did with my daughter the other night. I was hoping that you could help me . . .” She took a deep breath “. . . get in contact with her.”

  “Oh,” Tomi said.

  “Yes. I know that this request is rather odd, but, you see, my daughter and I haven’t been in contact for a few years. As you well know, she ran away from home when she was fourteen and . . . landed in quite a bit of trouble with that crazy man and . . . well, like I said, you know the rest. Now she’s caught up with this whole political mess, and her father . . . Look. I know that I’m rambling. I wanted to ask whether you could help me, uh . . .”

  “Help?”

  “Yes. I want to reconnect with her,” Marion said. “I don’t mean to drag you into our family drama, but I don’t know any other way to reach out to her.” She fidgeted.

  Tomi empathized with the woman.

  “You’re kind of like my only hope, really,” Marion added, pouring on the guilt.

  “Mrs. Parker, have you and your husband moved since the last time you’ve seen Abrianna?”

  “We own several homes,
but our main residence is the same since Abrianna left.”

  “I see.” Tomi bit her bottom lip, figuring out the best way to proceed. “Not to be rude, but don’t you think that if Abrianna wanted to return home, she would have by now?”

  Marion sighed.

  “I don’t mean to be so blunt, but . . .”

  “No. It’s all right.” She pulled another deep breath. “In truth, I don’t know what to think. She may have been scared to come back; maybe she couldn’t forgive herself for . . . some things. Or maybe that psychopath that snatched her really screwed up her head. All I know is that I want to make amends. I need her to know that it’s okay now. There is nothing to fear now. Can’t you pass along the message?” She opened her purse and pulled out a card. “Here. Can you give her this? It has my personal cell phone number. Tell her that I really want to talk to her.”

  Tomi accepted the card. “I can do that. I’ll give it to her. Now can I ask you for a favor?” Tomi asked.

  Marion said nothing.

  “I’d really like to . . . interview you about, well, about everything that’s been happening lately.”

  “How about we talk after you pass along my message? Fair?”

  “Sure. Fair enough.”

  “Great.” A smile bloomed across Marion’s face. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” She stood up. “I’ll let you get back to your work.”

  Tomi stood as well, smiling.

  “Thank you again,” Marion added, offering her hand.

  Tomi accepted it, noting how cold it was and how much it trembled in her grip. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Parker. Have a good afternoon.”

  “You too.” Marion held onto her big smile for an additional awkward moment before pulling her hand from Tomi’s grip and exiting the cubicle.

  Tomi watched Marion’s perfect walk capture nearly every male’s attention as she strolled across the busy office before disappearing into an elevator.

  Jayson returned. “Well?”

  Tomi shrugged. “That’s one hell of a crazy-ass family.”