by Imani Black
“The fuck?” Brice cursed aloud, confused about how someone would’ve gotten through the locks on his doors, and even more confused about who would want to break into his house.
He shoved his gun back into his holster and walked back toward the front door. Just as he rounded the corner from his living room, he bumped into someone.
“Whoa!” Brice yelped and jumped, reaching for his weapon and aiming.
The person he’d bumped into let out a small scream and put his hands up over his head.
“Mr. P, what the hell? You scared me. I could’ve shot you,” Brice gasped, placing his gun back in the holster. Although he would’ve clearly had the upper hand, Brice was completely unnerved by the entire encounter.
“I heard you yelling down the street, and I saw that person running from your house. They ran over my fence,” Brice’s neighbor said, his voice shaky.
“Did you see what he or she looked like?” Brice inquired. “Or when they got here? Were they alone? Man or woman?”
“I didn’t see the face, but I believe it was a man,” Mr. P informed. “Looked like a bad character with one of them hoodies on. You know the kind they use to commit crimes.”
Brice turned his face so Mr. P couldn’t see his expression. He thought his neighbor’s comment about hoodies was a very white thing to say. For all Brice knew, Mr. P would’ve considered him a criminal if he hadn’t found out Brice was a police detective.
“Thanks, Mr. P. If you see anything else, call 911. Just keep your doors locked,” Brice said, slowly ushering his neighbor out the door.
Brice stood in his doorway and watched his old neighbor shuffle to his house and into his home. Brice let out a long, exasperated sigh.
With Mr. P safely inside his house, Brice walked back to his SUV. Bending into the passenger-side door, he retrieved all the Turner case files. As he lifted the stack of papers, a picture slipped out from one of the folders. A cold chill shot through Brice’s body like someone had pumped ice water into his veins. Even in the dark, the person in the picture seemed eerily familiar. He picked up the picture and examined it closely. Brice shook his head from side to side and rushed inside the house.
Brice threw all the assignment information on his bed and spread it out. He started undressing, deciding that a hot shower and a drink was what he needed more than anything.
As Brice pulled his holster from his waist, his mind started putting a lot of things together.
“The killer has to be someone who knows me. They’re following me,” Brice whispered, grabbing the folders. Sitting down on his bed, he started going over what he’d learned from every single person interviewed about Desiree Turner’s murder.
“I’m going to find you, and when I do, you’re going to pay for what you did,” Brice murmured. He had a brand-new fervor to catch the killer.
Chapter 11
Cheyenne
Cheyenne looked at herself in the long mirror behind her bedroom door. The black funeral dress she wore hung off of her. She’d lost at least ten pounds since her mother’s murder. Cheyenne stared at her reflection, and the sadness in her eyes glared back at her. She shook her head as the tears started up again.
Her mind went to another place. Cheyenne had thought the saddest day of her life was the day she left for medical school in Texas, but here she was preparing to attend her mother’s funeral.
Still, she remembered the sadness she’d felt. Cheyenne had decided to leave Brooklyn amid all the turmoil going on in her house at that time. She couldn’t stand to see her parents at odds all the time. Her father had turned into an angry, bitter person, which was not how she wanted to remember him. Her mother had retreated into her work, and on the rare occasions that she was home, she didn’t speak much. Lil Kev had completely moved out of the house. He would see them occasionally, but only when he knew their father wouldn’t be around. Cheyenne couldn’t stand knowing that the streets had taken hold of Lil Kev’s life. Their mother had worked hard to make sure they’d turn out better than that.
Back then, Kelsi was in deep with her boyfriend, Scorpio, and on the low, she was still making sure her mother, no-good-ass Peaches, had food to survive.
Cheyenne felt she didn’t have anywhere to fit in all that chaos. Most days, she felt lost, like she didn’t belong anywhere. She would throw herself into her schoolwork, but since she had graduated from undergrad, she had even lost that. The decision to leave for medical school hadn’t been that hard once she weighed her options—go away to med school or stay in the projects and deal with everyone else’s drama.
* * *
“I’m going to miss you, Chey,” Kelsi said, swiping at her tears angrily like she wanted to beat herself up for crying.
Cheyenne threw a folded pile of clothes into her big purple suitcase without looking at her.
“When you’ve been with someone every single day for years—which is most of our lives—you can’t even imagine yourself one day without them,” Kelsi continued.
Cheyenne stopped putting things in her suitcase and turned toward her best friend. “I love you so much, Kels. I’m going to make this doctor thing happen so our lives can be better. You will always be my sister. No amount of distance can ever change that,” she said through tears.
Kelsi broke down. She flopped back on her bed and sobbed. Her shoulders quaked as she let the wracking sobs take over. Cheyenne sat next to her, pulled her up, slid her arm around Kelsi’s shoulder, and cried right along with her.
Lil Kev didn’t come to see Cheyenne off, but he sent one of his cronies with a package for her. She slid it into her oversized carry-on bag and decided she would open it when she got to the airport that day.
Her father didn’t come to the airport either. Cheyenne was glad because the tension between her father and mother was enough to make Cheyenne want to throw up every time.
Kelsi decided to stay back as well. She told Cheyenne there was no way she could see her disappear into the airport and not lose it. They both joked that Kelsi would’ve screamed so loud the airport security would’ve hog-tied her and carried her away like a terrorist.
It was Cheyenne and her mother alone who made the trip to the airport that day. Her mother hired a cab service to take them to John F. Kennedy Airport. They left home two hours early so that her mother would have time to sit with her before she went through security. Once Cheyenne was checked in, she and her mother found a little restaurant that was right outside of security. Cheyenne didn’t have much of an appetite.
Her mother’s eyes were so sad. “I’m surely going to miss you. My baby’s first time away from her mother in her life.” She let out a windstorm of breath. “I can’t believe you have grown up so fast,” she said, dabbing at her tears with the cloth napkin from the table.
“Ma, I thought we wasn’t going to do the sappy thing,” Cheyenne complained. She had cried enough for one day.
Her mother put her hand up and smiled. She sniffled back her snot and wiped the last of her tears. “Okay, okay. I did promise. I’m just telling you how I feel, baby. One last thing—just know I am so proud of you that if I could afford to write it in the sky, I would. You are the strongest little girl on the planet, and I know you’ll make me proud. There is nothing in this world that can match my love for you. I don’t want you to think about anything going on at home. Just work hard and become the best doctor on the planet,” her mother preached before the waitress interrupted them to ask for their orders.
Cheyenne didn’t reply to her mother’s touching speech because she didn’t want to cry anymore.
* * *
Now, as she stared at herself in the mirror, Cheyenne felt a flash of anger in her chest. Why hadn’t she replied? She should have thanked her mother for her kind words. She should have said something in response to how sweet her mother had been that day. Cheyenne bit down on her lip until she drew blood. She was angry at herself. She’d had no way of knowing that would be the last face-to-face conversation she would have wit
h her mother. She thought about what she would’ve and should’ve told her mother:
“No, Ma, you are the strongest person I know on earth. You came from the bottom, and you made it all work for you. You are one of the most influential women in the world, and if I could, I would get on every media outlet in the world, on top of every mountain, and anywhere people could hear me and say my mother, Desiree A. Turner, is the most remarkable woman on the planet, and I love her more than life itself!”
That’s what she would’ve said to her mother had she ever gotten the chance to see her beautiful face again. But instead, Cheyenne had been robbed of that opportunity.
Cheyenne jumped and whirled around in response to loud knocks on her bedroom door.
“Chey, baby girl, you ready?” her father called from the other side of the door.
Cheyenne breathed out loudly. She wanted to be alone; that’s really what she wanted. She moved slowly to her door and pulled it open.
“You look good, baby girl,” her father commented.
“You too,” she said back, barely above a whisper. “Still no word from Lil Kev?” she asked.
“You know I wouldn’t know that. You know how things are,” her father replied, shoving his hands deep into his suit pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them.
Cheyenne could hear the distress in his tone whenever he had to discuss Lil Kev. She shook her head.
* * *
It only took three weeks after her father came home for shit to hit the fan with her brother. Lil Kev came in the house with his key one night after being gone for more than a week. Their mother was in the kitchen. Kelsi and Cheyenne were in the bedroom, gossiping. Her mother’s screams erupted loudly through the apartment, causing Cheyenne and Kelsi to run out to see what was going on.
“No! Kevin! Oh God! No!” her mother belted out.
Kelsi and Cheyenne scrambled to the front of the apartment.
“Let him go!” her mother screeched just as Kelsi and Cheyenne rounded the corner into the living room.
That’s when Cheyenne saw it. Her father had Lil Kev down on the couch, choking him with one hand around his neck.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Cheyenne screamed, rushing over to the heap of bodies.
“You want to act tough? Huh, huh? I’m going to show you tough. I ain’t these boys out in the street. I’m a man that just did twelve years with real motherfuckers that did real things on these streets. You ain’t so fucking tough now, Junior,” her father growled as he clamped down harder and harder on Lil Kev’s neck.
Lil Kev was making a low hissing noise. Cheyenne could tell his oxygen was completely cut off. Kelsi tried pulling one of her father’s arms, and Cheyenne tried to push his massive body.
Her mother was screaming, but Cheyenne couldn’t understand what she was saying in the chaos. Lil Kev had turned a sickening shade of burgundy. Cheyenne knew her father was powerful enough to take the life right out of Lil Kev’s scrawny body.
“Big K, please. Please let him go. I don’t know if I could take you being gone again,” Kelsi said soothingly.
Even amid the chaos, Cheyenne looked at Kelsi strangely. Something inside of Cheyenne felt weird. She couldn’t place it. Besides, there was just so much going on, she just shook off the feeling.
Her father finally slowly released his grip on Lil Kev’s neck. Lil Kev rolled onto the floor, holding his neck. He coughed and wheezed, trying to get his lungs to fill up with air.
Big K stood over her brother. Her father’s chest rose and fell rapidly, and his fists were curled so tight his knuckles paled. “Now, li’l nigga, the next time I speak to you nicely, you speak to me nicely. I can’t make up for the lost time, but that don’t mean I’m going to be disrespected by my own youngin’,” her father huffed, his nostrils flaring. He began walking to the back of the apartment.
Her mother rushed over to Lil Kev. “Kevin? Kevin? C’mon, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay,” she comforted as she lifted Lil Kev’s head and put him in a position she said would help oxygen go to his brain faster.
Cheyenne went completely silent. She was in shock. She had never seen her father get violent in her life. After he was locked up, Cheyenne had heard stories about how notorious her father was on the streets, but at home, he had been nothing like that. Cheyenne knew then that time and circumstances had changed everything. From that day forward, she realized that her father was definitely a changed man.
Chapter 12
Cheyenne
Cheyenne held onto her father’s arm as they approached the front doors of the funeral home. She kept her head hung low to avoid all the flashing news cameras. She was already disgusted that the news media was still invading her family’s private moments. They’d posted up outside of their building for the first couple of days after her mother’s murder. Here it was, almost two weeks later, and they were still following the story. Cheyenne understood that her mother’s murder was a big topic on the news—a well-loved nurse, mother, and wife gunned down right in the hospital’s parking lot. The crime had shocked the city for a few weeks, but this was way over the top, in her opinion. The cameras and reporters wanted a story, making no exception for grieving relatives.
“Mr. Turner! Mr. Turner! Have they named any suspects yet?” a member of the news media yelled.
Cheyenne cringed as she dodged through the huddle of photographers.
“Cheyenne! Did the police look into your brother yet? Is it true he might be a suspect?” another shouted.
“Please,” Cheyenne grumbled as she held her arm up to shield her face from the camera.
“Mr. Turner, was your wife having an affair? Did you know about a doctor she might’ve been dating? Were you two on good terms when she died?”
Cheyenne flinched at the questions being hurled at her father. She was clearly more uncomfortable with the experience than her father, who seemed unfazed by the disgusting accusations.
“Mr. Turner, most people would say the husband is the first suspect in cases like this. Would you agree?”
Finally, Cheyenne had had enough. She stopped walking and turned toward the harassing reporters, her face twisted into a scowl. “This is my mother’s funeral! Have some decency and respect, for God’s sake! This is not about a scandalous story for your ratings. Why don’t you find someplace else to find gossip to hurl? Give us some peace. You people have no shame!” Cheyenne spat, scolding the story-hungry crowd of reporters crowding the doors right outside of the funeral home.
She regretted her decision to go through the front entrance of the funeral home. She should have known this would happen. She had decided at the last minute not to use the back entrance because she was hoping she’d see her brother out front. He had still been scarce around the house and hadn’t checked up on her much.
“Chey, don’t worry about what these people are saying. We know the truth,” her father said, noticing the new tears that had sprung to her eyes and the distraught scowl on her face.
Cheyenne’s legs felt like two lead poles as she pulled away from her father and slowly walked into the funeral home. The hairs at the back of her neck stood up, and the dress she wore suddenly felt itchy against her skin. The smell of embalming chemicals and flowers mixed with strong female perfumes made Cheyenne’s stomach swirl with nausea. She quietly sucked in her breath as she moved farther into the large chapel room.
From the doorway, she could see the purple-and-gold casket in the center of the altar. One ray of light shone from the ceiling, illuminating the beautiful box so that it glowed angelically. The area around her mother’s casket was surrounded by hundreds of flowers—roses, daisies, hydrangeas, and lilies.
Cheyenne’s skin was riddled with goose bumps. She wrapped her arms around her chest and hugged herself for warmth. Losing her mother had to be the worst thing God could allow to happen to her. In Cheyenne’s eyes, she didn’t deserve that kind of punishment.
Her father had let her walk ahead of him. Cheyenne turned around and saw
him standing at the back of the room with his hands shoved deep into his pants pockets. Cheyenne was kind of glad. She just wanted to go up to the casket alone. She didn’t want to keep feeling responsible for everyone’s emotions.
Cheyenne moved her head around and let her eyes scan the huge room for a few seconds. There had to be over one hundred people in attendance. She was looking for Kelsi, Lil Kev, or any other familiar face. She walked a little farther inside and spotted her roommate, Amber, sitting on the front pew, sandwiched between Ms. Lula and another one of their neighbors, Ms. Arlene. Cheyenne didn’t see Lil Kev or Kelsi anywhere. She had expected both of them would be front and center.
“Hey,” Cheyenne whispered, bending down to hug Amber. Both of the neighbors moved aside a few inches to give Cheyenne a little room to fit in.
“Hey, girl. You all right?” Amber replied.
“I’m just maintaining. Thank you for coming, Amber,” Cheyenne answered. Her voice could barely be heard. It was raw and hoarse. Cheyenne had lost her voice from screaming, and it had never fully come back.
“I wouldn’t miss it. You know that,” Amber said softly.
Cheyenne lifted her sunglasses and dabbed at her eyes with a crumpled tissue. “It’s just so unfair. She didn’t deserve this. I will keep saying it. My brother is so angry with everyone, but we need to stick together right now. It’s my fault, you know.” Cheyenne began sobbing until her whole body rocked. “It’s all my fault, Amber,” she cried.
Amber couldn’t hold her tears back either. The floodgates had been opened, and Amber and Cheyenne rode the waves together. Amber sniffled.
“It was not your fault. No one blames you, Cheyenne. There was no way you could’ve known or prevented this.” Amber comforted her, rubbing Cheyenne’s back soothingly.
Cheyenne leaned over and put her head on Amber’s shoulder. They both sobbed together for a few minutes before her father interrupted. He still wore a stoic expression and squared jaw, which told everyone he was trying hard to contain his emotions.