The Final Play

by Shelly Ellis

  Ricky closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He took a deep breath, then shot up from the sofa. He walked to their bedroom and opened the night-table drawer. Inside were two of his guns: a Glock and a Magnum. He tucked one in the back of his waistband, grabbed his car keys, and walked back into the living room. He held the Magnum out to her.

  “It’s loaded,” he said. “I’m not going to ask if you know how to shoot it. I know you do.”

  Her brows furrowed. “Why are you giving me this?”

  “Because I’m gonna look for Mary, and if something happens, I want you to protect yourself.”

  She continued to stare at the gun but didn’t reach for it.

  “Take it, Simone!”

  She hesitated for a second longer before taking the gun out of his hand.

  “Ricky!” Simone shouted after him when he shoved the door open, making him pause. “Bring back our baby, but please don’t get killed. Please?”

  He nodded and gave a half smile. “I’ll try not to.”

  * * *

  While on the road, Ricky tried desperately to remember the name of the pediatrician Mary said she was taking Miles to see. He tried to remember the town, but drew a blank on both. He suspected he didn’t remember because Mary had never told them; she had purposely kept the details vague because the doctor was doing this illegally and could lose his license. So Ricky drove straight to Mary’s house. He banged on the front door and rung the bell but Mary didn’t answer. He drove around her neighborhood, then around town, searching parking lots and side streets for her tan Toyota Corolla. Simone checked in with him periodically via text. She said Mary still hadn’t returned to the house.

  It was almost midnight and Ricky still hadn’t spotted the car, Mary, or Miles. He knew he had no choice but to make the drive back home, but his mind raced with all the possibilities of what could’ve happened. Had Mary had a car accident? Had she gotten arrested? Had Dolla Dolla found out about them, and was holding Mary and the baby hostage somewhere?

  When he rounded the trees and pulled onto the dirt road leading to their house, he saw the swirling lights of cop cars and a lone search helicopter overhead. His mouth fell open in shock. Almost ten squad cars were parked around the house’s perimeter.

  So they had finally found him. Did this have anything to do with Mary? Had she snitched on them to the cops after all?

  Ricky saw Simone step onto the front porch with her hands behind her back and her head bowed. A female officer was holding her arm, leading her down the porch stairs. Simone was in handcuffs.

  He slammed on the brakes and the car lurched to a stop. He threw open the door and several police officers ran across the field toward him with their guns drawn.

  “What are you doing to her?” he shouted. “Why the fuck are y’all arresting her? She didn’t do anything!”

  “Get on the ground!” one of the officers shouted. “Get on the fucking ground or we will shoot you!”

  “Do it now!” another yelled.

  Ricky watched helplessly as Simone was led to one of the cop cars. The female officer placed her hand on the back of Simone’s head before shoving her inside.

  “This is your last warning!” one of the cops in front of him yelled. “Get on the ground!”

  Ricky complied. He dropped to his knees and placed his hands behind his head. The officers raced the remaining distance between them, shoving him down hard onto the packed dirt, wrenching his arms behind his back to put him in handcuffs.

  Chapter 11

  Ricky

  Ricky had been here before—trapped alone in a white room with a table and chairs at a police precinct. But this time, he didn’t sit docilely waiting for the door to open. He paced back and forth, glaring at the door and mirror along the wall. He was a caged tiger ready to pounce on the first motherfucka stupid enough to drift into his holding pen.

  “Somebody better come in here!” he yelled at the glass, knowing that police officers were probably watching him on the other side. He stared up at the camera perched near the ceiling in the corner of the room. “Where the fuck is my girl? Where’s my son? I will rip this fuckin’ place apart if somebody doesn’t come in here right goddamn now and answer me! Y’all hear me?” he bellowed, kicking over one of the chairs, sending it flying into the cinderblock wall. “Y’all hear me?”

  “Big talk for a guy in handcuffs,” a voice said behind him.

  Ricky whipped around and saw Detectives Dominguez and Ramsey standing in the doorway. Dominguez had his usual Cheshire-cat grin. Ramsey wasn’t smiling.

  “Where is Simone? Did y’all really arrest her? What the fuck did y’all do with our baby?” he asked, charging toward them. “Where the hell is he?”

  Ramsey raised his hand. “Back up and calm down. We’ll answer your questions after you answer ours. But we can’t do that until you sit down.”

  “I’m not fuckin’ sittin’ down. Fuck you! You tell me where they are right goddamn now!”

  “You violated the terms of our agreement, pretty boy,” Dominguez said with a sneer. “We don’t have to tell you shit. We can just send your ass to jail.”

  “Then do it!” Ricky spat. “Do it! You’ve taken everything else away from me. You think I care if I go to jail now?”

  Ramsey slowly shook his head. “You don’t mean that. You don’t want to go to prison.”

  “Don’t tell me what I mean! I said what I fuckin’ said.” He looked between the two men. “Where are they? Tell me!”

  Ramsey pursed his lips and took a deep breath, making his graying mustache flutter. “They’re safe. They’re fine.”

  Ricky’s jaw tightened. “Don’t just tell me what I wanna hear. Tell me the truth!”

  “It is the truth, Ricky!” Ramsey insisted. “The baby is with a social worker right now, and Simone isn’t in prison. She’s in another room just like yours, down the hall. She’s being questioned.”

  At those words, Ricky felt a wave of relief rush over him. It almost made his knees buckle. He’d thought he’d lost them. He thought that he’d broken the promise he’d made to Simone to always protect them. But they were okay.

  Thank you, God, he thought.

  His blood pressure went down. His thundering heartbeat decelerated.

  “So now you know mama and kiddy are fine,” Dominguez deadpanned. “Now, will you finally sit your ass down?”

  Ricky reluctantly took the chair on his side of the table. Dominguez sat in a chair on the opposite side. Ramsey closed the door behind him and took the chair that Ricky had kicked against the wall.

  “You’ve been MIA for almost a month,” Ramsey began. “That’s not acceptable.”

  “I was with Simone and our son in Virginia,” he answered. “I was there for the birth and I stayed to make sure they were safe. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Yeah, we heard from your baby’s wet nurse or whatever the hell she is,” Dominguez said. “She was picked up at the doctor’s office. The doc got a guilty conscience and confessed that she’d been paying him to examine your son. He thought she might’ve kidnapped the baby or something, and turned her in. The sheriff’s office arrested her. During questioning, she finally caved and told them everything that happened. She told them where you were.”

  So that was how the cops had found them. He figured that if Mary had taken Miles and sent the cops over to their house, it had to be for a good reason. The woman had been loyal to them for so long.

  “So were you connected to the murders of Nadine and Skylar Fuller? Did you take them out?” Dominguez asked.

  Ricky vehemently shook his head. “I would never hurt them! I came there to protect them. I told you Dolla was putting a hit out on all the witnesses. I found out that he knew where Skylar was hiding. He was sending someone over there that night. I tried to warn them but I didn’t make it there in enough time. He’d already killed Skylar and Simone’s mother. I thought he’d killed Simone, too, but she held him off.”

  “You mean she
killed him,” Dominguez persisted. “She told the investigators she did. She said she was defending herself when she shot him.”

  Ricky stared at Dominguez, now stunned. Simone had taken the rap for Melvin even though Ricky had been the one to shoot Melvin in the head and chest. He guessed she thought she stood a better chance of not facing jail time if she was charged with murder as self-defense, but he wasn’t happy with her putting her freedom on the line like this.

  “So what I don’t understand,” Ramsey said, “is if you went there to rescue her, why didn’t you bring her to us? Why didn’t either of you call the police? Instead, you chose to go on the run for weeks!”

  Ricky squinted. “Why the fuck would I bring her to you guys? Because you did such a good job in protecting all the other witnesses?”

  Ramsey looked grim while Dominguez looked pissed at his words.

  “Are any of them still alive? Any of the girls Dolla used to pimp out?” Ricky asked.

  Ramsey and Dominguez exchanged a look and Ricky already knew the answer to his question. He shook his head again in disgust.

  He had warned the detectives early on what Dolla Dolla had planned. He’d even witnessed one of the girls being murdered, and the detectives and Metro police, in general, seemed to have no interest in what he had to say. Instead, they were more concerned with Dolla Dolla’s contacts. They wanted to know who else was in the drug and pimp game he was working with.

  “So let me guess,” Ricky said, slumping back in his chair. “The whole case could fall apart now—unless I testify?”

  “You really think you’re the only witness we got left?” Dominguez sniffed. “You’re not special, Ricky. Even if you were, we could flip someone else. Just like that.” The detective snapped his fingers.

  Ricky laughed. “No, you couldn’t. They’re all too scared now. He has his circle, and anyone who might’ve thought about flipping, knows what Dolla did. They know what he’s capable of. Nobody’s snitchin’ on him now. It’s me—or nobody. That’s the only reason why you’re bothering with my ass, right? That’s the only reason why I’m sitting here and not in jail.”

  Ramsey sighed and for once, Dominguez went silent.

  “But don’t worry,” Ricky assured them. “I’ll help you. The shit is personal for me now. He tried to kill my girl. He killed her family. I’ll do what I gotta do to take him down.”

  “We’re glad to hear that, Ricky,” Ramsey began, “because we need you to—”

  “But the deal’s different this time,” Ricky interrupted. “I got conditions that I need to be met, or I’m not doing it.”

  Dominguez chuckled as he gestured to Ricky. “Is this asshole serious? He really thinks that he gets to dictate the rules?”

  “Ricky,” Ramsey tiredly began again, “we don’t cut the deals. That’s between your lawyer and the prosecutor. We just—”

  “I don’t care who does what. I don’t care who speaks to who. I told you I have conditions and—”

  “And we don’t give a shit!” Dominguez snarled, making Ramsey roll his eyes. “You’re gonna do what we fuckin’ tell you to do, or your girl goes to prison for twenty years and that little brat of yours goes into foster care. How’s that sound?”

  Ricky stared right back at him. “It sounds like we still don’t have a deal.” He then leaned over the table. “And if you ever threaten her or my kid again, I will fuckin’ kill you. Handcuffed or not, I’m comin’ for your ass and I rip you to fuckin’ pieces with my bare hands. Understand me?”

  “Okay! All right,” Ramsey said, holding up his hands. “Everybody just calm down. We can work out a deal—if its reasonable. Just tell us what you need, Ricky.”

  * * *

  A few hours later, the sheriff’s deputy opened the door and Ricky stepped inside another room. He saw Simone sitting at a table with reddened eyes and disheveled clothes, staring off into space. When she turned and her eyes landed on him, she leapt up from her chair and ran across the room. She threw herself at him, making him stumble back. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

  “Oh, baby! Ricky, I didn’t know if I would see you again,” she wept, throwing her arms around his neck. She kissed him once, twice, three times. “They came outta nowhere! I didn’t have time to react!”

  “I know,” he whispered, kissing her, too. “It’s okay now. We’re okay.”

  She leaned back to gaze up at him. “They still won’t tell me about Miles. I don’t know if he’s still with Mary. I don’t know what—”

  “They’re bringing him. They’re giving him back. They promised me they would.”

  She shook her head. “But how do you know they’ll keep their promise? I’m not gonna leave here without him!”

  He took a deep breath and loosened his hold around her. “Because that was one of the conditions of our deal.”

  She frowned and looked at him searchingly. “What deal? What are you talking about?”

  “Mary goes free. She tried her best to help us. She deserves to go free. You get Miles back. You’re going away, but you’ll be under twenty-four-hour police protection wherever they you take you this time. I don’t know where that is.”

  Simone’s frown deepened. “But what about you? Where are you going? Why aren’t you coming with us?”

  “I can’t go with you. When all this is over, in exchange for my testimony, I can be with you—maybe.”

  “Maybe? What do you mean, maybe?”

  “But for now,” he continued, unable to answer her questions, trying to find the strength to press onward, “I have to go back to the city. I have to finish what I started.”

  She lowered her eyes. “So we’re gonna be separated again?”

  “That’s the way it has to be for now.”

  “How long this time?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She nodded. One tear trickled over her cheek, then another. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I knew this time would come eventually, but it still feels too soon.”

  She dropped her head to his shoulder. He held her close, closed his eyes, and kissed her crown.

  They waited for another hour before the door opened again. A woman walked in cradling Miles in a blanket. A deputy trailed in behind her. This time both Ricky and Simone stood up and rushed across the room. She greedily took the infant.

  “Is he okay?” Ricky asked, cradling Miles’s head.

  Simone unwound the blanket and placed Miles on the table. Miles squirmed and began to whimper in the cold air as she unfastened his onesie and raised it, examining his legs, torso, and arms. She snapped the garment closed and nodded. She brought Miles back to her shoulder and rubbed his back. “Looks like it.”

  Ricky reached for him. “Let me hold him. Let me say goodbye.”

  Simone’s bottom lip began to tremble as she handed their son to him. He held the boy in his arms. Miles was crying now, letting out long wails. Ricky stared down at him, unsure of what to say, diminished because he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see his son again.

  “I’ll see you soon, okay, little man,” he whispered, hoping it was the truth. “Daddy will see you soon.” He then kissed his forehead.

  “All right, family man,” he heard Dominguez call out.

  He looked up to find the two detectives standing in the doorway, waiting for him.

  “We did all the shit you asked for. Come on!” Dominguez yelled. “We gotta go!”

  Ricky felt like a piece of him was being ripped away when he handed a wailing Miles back to Simone. He felt another piece rip when he leaned down and kissed Simone goodbye, savoring the taste and feel of her. “This is only temporary. Okay?”

  She started to cry again, but nodded.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she whispered.

  “Stay strong,” he said as he backed toward the door.

  “I will. You too!” she sobbed back, holding Miles against her chest, rocking him gently.

  �
��Well, ain’t that sweet?” Dominguez murmured dryly before Ramsey elbowed him the ribs. “What?” he cried. “It is!”

  Ricky then turned around and headed to the door and into the hall, letting the door close behind him, ready to walk back into the lion’s den.

  Chapter 12

  Derrick

  The room resembled a converted cafeteria with its bare white cinder-block walls, and windows covered with metal grates so that the sun created crisscross patterns on the puke-green linoleum-tile floors. To Derrick’s right and left were a series of video screens enclosed in black boxes. Hanging along each box was an old-fashioned phone receiver connected by a steel cord.

  “Take the one on the end over there,” the corrections officer said, pointing Derrick to an empty chair on the far side of the echoing room, near the window. It was next to a woman in a bright red wig who was currently speaking to an inmate on screen while she held a slumbering toddler on her lap. “You got fifteen minutes.”

  Derrick walked up to the boxes and sat down in a rickety plastic chair that looked like it’d probably been in use since the late ’80s.

  He watched as the blank, black screen flooded with color. Cole appeared in a gray jumpsuit with his head and shoulders bowed. Behind him was a room that looked like it was the mirror image of the room in which Derrick sat, except it was filled with inmates, not visitors. Seeing Cole onscreen in his inmate uniform was like a punch to the gut. His heart ached. He hadn’t wanted the boy to end up here. He had wanted anything but this, but now that Cole was facing an attempted-murder charge, this is where he would have to stay until his trial.

  Derrick felt like he’d failed him. Each boy at the Institute was his responsibility, and he had let this one slip through the cracks.

  “What’s up, Mr. Derrick?” Cole asked, still not raising his eyes.

  “What’s up, Cole?” Derrick whispered. “How you doin’?”

  Cole let out a dry laugh. It sounded as brittle as lead, nothing like the full booming laughter the boy had had back at the Institute.