“Well, if that’s how you want to be, fine! You’re selfish, and you always have been. Bye, Cathy.”
Pressing the END button, I tried to swallow all the animosity I felt for that woman, but it was hard as hell. When I told her that Byron had slid his hand up my thigh and had fingered me right at the kitchen table after church one Sunday, she scolded me, as if I’d done something wrong. Her exact words were, “Don’t you dare accuse him of something like that! You will ruin his career and the life that he gives us. Do you want to be out on the streets?” It wasn’t enough that my father had left a hundred-thousand-dollar life insurance policy. She’d blown through that in no time with her excessive spending habit.
I’d just turned twelve when Byron first violated me, and I’d known that Byron was determined to groom me for sex. It had started with lustful glances, suggestive comments, and subtle touches, but it had soon escalated. My mother would be sitting right there at the table, across from him, as he violated me. She’d insisted that we sit beside each other at the table and “bond.” We’d bonded, all right.
I often wondered if she had known what he was doing to me and had been okay with it in order to keep him. Before my father’s passing, we’d been pretty close, but I’d always been closer to my dad. Oftentimes, I’d felt she was jealous of our relationship. She’d expressed time and time again that I’d taken all her husband’s attention. What had she expected a father to do? Ignore his own daughter? I was convinced that my mother needed some mental help, but I had decided a long time ago that there was nothing that could be done to change her state of mind.
Before I could pull up to my condo building, I spotted my best friend, Anya’s black Audi parked in my visitor’s spot. She hadn’t even called me, so I wondered what was going on with her. She’d pop up at my crib every so often, but that was only when she was having problems with her husband. What had he done now? Men were so damn trifling. I hadn’t told her anything about my affair with Miles, though. I couldn’t, because she was a married woman, and I didn’t want her to look down on me for messing with someone else’s husband. A married woman seemed to take offense to that type of thing, even if you weren’t fucking her husband.
When I got out of my car, Anya stepped out of hers. She swiftly made her way over to me in a semi-jog and fell into my arms.
“Anya, what’s wrong?” I asked as her body shook from her sobs.
“He left me . . . for real this time, and he took the kids.”
“What?” After pulling away from her, I held her by her shoulders and looked into her teary, pain-filled eyes. “Are you serious?”
“As hell. I got home from work, and he’d packed all his shit up. Then I looked in the twins’ room, and their things were gone too. I tried to call him, but he won’t answer the phone.”
“That’s kidnapping, Anya. You have to report him.”
“No . . .” She grabbed my arm as her eyes pleaded with mine. “I can’t . . . You have to help me. If I get the cops involved, I’ll never see Chelsey and Kelsey again.”
“Well, what do you want me to do?” I was a federal agent, but if the case wasn’t being handled by the Bureau, I had few to no options.
“Help me find out where he is. You have access to all types of shit, being that you’re a Fed. Do what you have to do to track him down. He left a fuckin’ note, Cathy. It said that the kids are okay and not to look for them. He said if I contact the police, he’ll make sure I never see them again. Do you think . . . Do you think he will hurt them?”
Shit. Why was she asking me that? She was the one who had married Trayvon, not me. Didn’t she know what he was or wasn’t capable of more than I did? “Trayvon loves his girls. He’s only trying to hurt you. Don’t worry. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you get them back.”
Quickly, I led her to my condo, my work laptop in my hand. Once we were inside, we both sat down on the sofa.
As I powered the computer on, I asked, “What’s his phone number? I’m going to access the FBI’s GPS system. We should be able to trace his location with his phone. I can also access the camera. Let’s hope his phone is turned on.”
Once the program was up, she recited his number, and I plugged it in. We both crossed our fingers. If he’d turned off his phone, we’d have no way of knowing where he was.
“Do you have any idea where he would go?” I asked her while we waited the results.
“His parents live in Buffalo, but I figure that would be too damn obvious. I don’t know where he’d take them, but I’m praying he doesn’t do anything crazy. He’s been on edge for a while. Ever since he lost his job, he’s been acting all erratic, and he’s always yelling or breaking something. I don’t understand why he’s always so damn angry.”
It was the cocaine that he used that had become a major problem. She thought I didn’t know her husband was an addict, but all the warning signs were there. She’d even told me she found a rolled-up dollar bill with white residue on it on the bathroom counter. Then she hadn’t brought it up again, and now she probably thought I’d forgotten. Trayvon was a so-called “refined thug” type, and he had supposedly turned his life around, but I thought he was still shady. He had had a good job as an executive at Coca-Cola but had ended up getting fired. Anya had never told me why.
Anya was a real-estate agent who made a lucrative living on her own and didn’t need Trayvon financially, but she loved him. Their four-year-old daughters were her world, and she wanted them to have their father in their lives, even if it was at her expense. I had often advised her to leave him, but she’d always had a rebuttal for why she couldn’t. He’d been quick to leave her for the smallest thing, though. Last I heard, he thought she was cheating on him. Anya had sworn up and down that she wasn’t messing around on her husband. She had been my best friend since we were six years old, so I believed her.
“Okay, good. We’re in,” I told her as a moving red dot popped up on the laptop screen. “That’s him. He’s heading north. Let’s go.”
My .45 was still in its holster, and I didn’t remove it, just in case Trayvon was armed. My laptop was hooked up to my hotspot, so we’d have Wi-Fi while I drove. Trayvon was about an hour away, and I hoped that he’d eventually stop somewhere, so we’d have the opportunity to get the twins from him. Hopefully, at this point, they were safe.
Once we were in the car, Anya held the laptop in her lap. I accessed the camera on Trayvon’s phone so we would know what was going on in the car. We could hear everything, but unfortunately, the phone’s camera showed us only the car’s ceiling.
“Are we going to see Grandma and Grandpa, Daddy?” one of the twins asked.
“No. Now be quiet and eat your chicken nuggets!” Trayvon snapped, causing Anya to flinch as the tears continued to flow down her cheeks.
“They’re okay, Anya. That’s all that matters. Let’s just hope he stops somewhere and gets a room or something. By the time he does, we’ll be closer. Okay?”
She nodded and wiped her eyes. “This is crazy. He is convinced that I’m cheating on his ass. I keep telling him that I’m not, but he is in his own delusional world.”
After grabbing my bestie’s hand, I squeezed it. “I know that he’s on drugs, Anya. You don’t have to hide anything from me. I know I work for the FBI, but you don’t have to worry about that. This is personal. Besides, the Feds wouldn’t deal with anything so small and local.”
Anya broke down then and shook her head as she spoke. She was crying so hard that I could barely understand anything she was saying. “He . . . he’s on heroin now. He’s shooting up and all. I never thought it would come to this, Cat. I really didn’t see it coming, and now my babies may be in danger because I’m too weak to be alone.” Her head was in her hand as she continued to sob.
“Oh shit. I’m so sorry, Anya. Damn . . .” Not knowing what else to say, I just held her hand as she wept.
“It’s not your fault. You told me to leave his ass. I’m so damn stupid. What if he turns
his phone off and disappears with my babies? What am I going to do then?”
“If he crosses state lines, we can get the Feds involved, Anya. This is kidnapping, and it’s a federal crime if he leaves the state. He won’t know that they are involved. I told you, I’m going to make sure you get the twins back.”
With a nod, she shook her head and wiped her eyes. All we could hear in Trayvon’s car was the sound of some music playing. Other than that, it was silent. Obviously, the twins were afraid to speak, because of their father’s temper. That was sad, and I really hoped he wouldn’t do anything to hurt them. Trayvon was on edge and unpredictable. He was probably under the influence, and that could possibly hinder his ability to rationalize or even operate a vehicle. What if he nodded off or something while he was in traffic? Every worst-case scenario played in my head, so I could imagine what Anya was thinking.
For good measure, I asked, “Are you sure you don’t want me to ask for backup?”
“Yes,” she said quickly. “I think the two of us can handle this. I don’t want the cops or the Feds involved if we can help it.”
She was worried about him getting arrested, and I wanted to tell her not to be more concerned for him than for the twins. I decided not to, though, hoping that the situation wouldn’t escalate once we found him.
About three hours had passed when the red dot on my laptop screen finally grew still. We had closed the distance some and now were only about forty-five minutes away from him. Hopefully, he was getting a room or had stopped to rest at the house of somebody he knew. I was sure that the twins were getting antsy, and I hoped he wasn’t just making a restroom stop. Once I saw that he’d stayed put for at least thirty minutes, I knew that the chances were high that we would close in on him.
“We’re only about thirty minutes away from where he is now,” I told Anya.
“God, I hope he doesn’t leave before we can get there.” Anya rubbed her hands together anxiously, with a nervous look on her face.
“I’m thinking that being that he’s been there for over thirty minutes, he’s not leaving anytime soon.”
“Let’s hope not.” Anya sighed.
We knew he’d left his phone in the car, because it was extra quiet and the car ceiling was still all that could be seen on my laptop screen. Soon the phone would die if he didn’t retrieve it. As soon as that thought came into my mind, though, I saw the scenery change. He was inside a hotel room. The twins were in view, because they were looking at something on the screen. He must’ve let them play a game to occupy themselves.
“I wish I could talk to them,” Anya whispered as she touched the screen.
“You can in a little while,” I assured her, hoping that things would go off without a hitch.
Less than a half hour later, we were pulling into the parking lot of a seedy motel in Binghamton, New York. Trayvon was probably on his way to Canada and had stopped because the twins were tired. We’d heard one of them complaining that she was tired of being in the car and wanted to go home. They’d asked about Anya, and he’d told them that she didn’t want them anymore. That had really made Anya break down.
“There’s his car!” she yelled out when she spotted his money-green Cadillac.
I parked, and before I could get out of the car, Anya was running toward the entrance to the motel’s office. We had no idea which room he was in, but he had to be somewhere close to where he’d parked. By the time I made it inside the office, Anya was showing the lady behind the front desk her license.
“Yes, he’s my husband. He told me to meet him here, but he must’ve fallen asleep, because he isn’t answering his phone. Can you tell me what room he’s in?”
The ghetto-fabulous-looking chick smacked on some gum and clicked on the computer’s keys with her long bright red stiletto nails. Her hair and lipstick matched.
“He in room two-twenty-four,” she told Anya, without a care in the world, as she grabbed her ringing cell phone.
“Thanks,” Anya threw over her shoulder as she headed out of the office. I was right behind her.
She took the stairs, with me at her heels. When we got to the room, I stood to the side of the door, against the wall, so he wouldn’t know that I was with Anya. Maybe if he saw just her there, things would be peaceful. If he saw me, he’d have a fit. He had always said that she kept me in their business, and that made him furious. And the fact that I was a Fed and he’d committed a crime would rile him up too. He hadn’t crossed state lines, but it was obvious that he planned to. He’d kidnapped his daughters without telling their mother, and that was a crime for local police to handle. All I was there to do was to help Anya find her girls and get them home safely. I had no desire to get Trayvon locked up, but he definitely needed some help for his anger and his drug habit.
“The fuck you doing here?” Trayvon bellowed after he opened the door and saw Anya standing there.
“I’m just here to get my babies.”
“Mommy!” the twins yelled out in unison.
“Why’d you tell them I don’t want them, huh?” Anya shrieked as she rolled her neck with attitude.
“How the hell would you know that, and how’d you know where I was! You ain’t taking them nowhere.”
“I know you’re high. How I know anything else is not your concern. I won’t get the cops involved if you just let me take the twins with me.”
Rationalizing with him didn’t seem to work, because his response was, “Do what you gotta do, but my daughters ain’t goin’ no damn where. What the fuck you gon’ do about it?”
“Tray, c’mon. You know you can’t be a full-time parent to them. You can barely do anything without me. How’re you going to afford to take care of them? Huh? Think about what you’re doing. If you want to leave me, that’s fine, but don’t put our girls in a bad situation to get back at me.”
“If you don’t get the fuck away from me, bitch, I’m gonna slit your fuckin’ throat.”
The sound of a switchblade opening made me act. With my gun to his forehead, I told him in a calm voice, “Put the knife down, before I blow your brains out. I don’t want to do that around the twins, but I will.”
“You involved this bitch?” His eyes were on Anya’s, and they were full of hate.
“She helped me find you.” Anya’s voice quivered. “It was either her or the cops.”
“She is the fuckin’ cops!” he spat.
“She didn’t want to involve the cops, Trayvon. For some inconceivable reason, she gives a fuck about you,” I said calmly. “Now, if you don’t want to die tonight, let her take the girls, and you go on with your life. We didn’t come here for this, but you took it there. Just do the right thing for the girls.”
Trayvon lowered the knife and put it in his pocket. “You ain’t gon’ call the cops?” He kept his eyes on me.
“No,” Anya and I said in unison.
His head bobbed. “A’ight. Put your gun away.”
“I don’t trust you. Now, get the girls and their things, so we can go,” I said firmly, letting him know that I wasn’t playing games with his ass.
He nodded and turned around. The twins hadn’t noticed the ruckus with the gun. They had been too busy playing their game.
“Girls, you’re going with Mommy.”
He sounded defeated, and as much as I wanted to get the police involved, I respected my best friend’s wishes. “You sure you don’t want to turn him in?” I whispered.
“Yes,” she confirmed.
Knowing that was a bad idea, I bit my tongue. I wouldn’t always be around, and he wasn’t going to stop being a problem. Things were only going to get worse, but there was nothing I could do about that.
The girls were handed over to Anya, and I finally put my gun in the holster. Given the look of fury in his menacing light brown eyes as he stood there, I wanted to warn Anya that he would probably strike again. As we headed to the parking lot, she held on to the twins, and I pulled the suitcase that he’d put their things in. Once
they were buckled up in the backseat, we hit the road.
“Do you really think this is over?” I asked Anya as I drove.
“No,” she admitted. “I’m just glad I got my girls back. If he comes back, I’ll be prepared.”
“You sure? I have to go to Jamaica for an undercover assignment, and I won’t be here to help if he does something. Just promise me that you’ll be safe and you’ll call the cops if you have to.”
“I will,” she agreed. The look in her eyes told me that she was just pacifying me.
By the time I dropped Anya and the girls off, it was after one in the morning, and I had to be up for work by five. Still, I’d do anything for Anya and my goddaughters. All I could hope was that Trayvon wouldn’t continue to be a problem. I knew better, though.
“You try to get some rest,” I told Anya as I gave her a hug in her living room.
“All right. Thank you, Cat. You really came through for me. Not only did you help me get my girls, but you also saved my life. I love you.”
“Aw, Anya. I love you too.”
When I got home, I stripped and hit the bed. In no time, my alarm was blaring, and it was back to the grind. After an exhilarating shower, I got dressed and headed to work. Before I could even sit down behind my desk, Special Agent Morris walked up to me.
“Good morning, Agent Reed. You and Agent Paulson will be heading to Jamaica on Monday, which is sooner than I thought. The paperwork has been handled. I will email you your flight itinerary before the workday is out. Just make sure you absorb as much as you can about this criminal and his crew, and you’ll be ready to take him and his organization down. How’d you like to have your own office, with SPECIAL AGENT REED on the door?” A rare smile was on his face.
“I’d love that, sir.”
Carl Weber's Kingpins: Jamaica Page 12