Torn by the Code

by Eureka

  After our hug, she leaned down and looked at Flex in the driver’s seat. “Is that that hardheaded li’l Kajaun?” she called out with a smile on her face.

  Flex got out of the car, walked up to her, and hugged her. “Ms. Ruby, you looking just as good as you did when I was younger,” he said with flattery and a huge smile on his face.

  “Look at you!” She looked him up and down. “Mr. Fl . . . Fo . . . Flex? Oh yeah, Flex is what they called you. But I’m calling you by the name your mother Fredericka gave you. Kajaun, you look just as cute as you were when she brought you home. How you been, boy? Stayin’ free and out of trouble, I hope.”

  “Yeah, Ms. Ruby, I’m good.”

  She smiled, looking at me and then at him. “I see the good Lawd kept y’all two in touch,” she said with a knowing smirk. “Well, let me get to this house. These old bones ain’t like they used to be. Y’all come back and see me soon. Ya know I ain’t gon’ live forever, and I would love to sit down and talk with you.”

  I reached out and gave her one more hug and promised to be by soon.

  Flex and I watched her walk down the street to the gate of her building. It was the push I needed to get my mind right. I had all the people in these streets I paid, and none of them could give me the information I needed. But here I was, and the very person who gave me love and asked for nothing in return could give me all the information I needed.

  Just as Flex got into the driver’s seat and I opened the car door, I noticed a young man walk up close to Ms. Ruby. Then she suddenly fell to the ground. The guy ran off as I rushed over to her. When I got closer, I saw blood covering the front of her coat, and she was holding her hands close to her chest, gasping for air.

  Flex took off chasing the guy. I placed Ms. Ruby’s head in my lap. I wanted to scream. All I could do was watch one of the few who helped me in this world take her last breath. I sat rocking and holding her and noticed a small knife wound in her chest, close to her heart. “Ms. Ruby, why? You didn’t deserve this!” I yelled with tears rolling down my face.

  “Come on, Dutch. There’s nothing we can do for her. Come on before them boys in blue get here. Come on!”

  I gently laid her head on the cold concrete. I knew this was a hit on her because they knew she saw them beating that girl the other night. In the street, rules don’t apply. It was leave no witnesses. I said a silent prayer for her and got in the car.

  “Ms. Ruby, I’ma get these muthafuckas if it’s the last thing I do!”

  I couldn’t get the image of Ms. Ruby, then Junior’s little innocent face, out of my head. I knew I was losing my grip on this whole situation. First, they caught me slipping and took my son. Now, the only person that had ever shown an ounce of motherly love was just taken from me. Suddenly, it hit me. I grabbed my phone and placed a call.

  “Ah wa yuh a deal wid, ah lang time wi nuh link up, mi need a fayva. All of Rasta man’s roots in my house there. Mi wah send clear message,” I said as I spoke in a heavy Jamaican dialect. I called to have all of Rasta’s family members, the ones that were left, assembled in my home in Kingston, Jamaica. I wanted his two kids, his father and his new wife, and his half brother. I would not make the same mistake I did before. This time, no one would be left to carry his bloodline. Then I hung up. “It’s done!” I made a critical mistake with Rasta. His brother was my target at the time, and I thought he was alone, but when Rasta showed his face, I didn’t have enough time to murk his ass too before the Babylon arrived. At that time, my ass couldn’t get caught. Now, Rasta’s entire bloodline will be taken out. Even the fucking dog is going to get it. I don’t give a fuck!

  Flex looked straight ahead as he drove with a sinister smirk across his lips.

  “Dem dead soon,” I said through clenched teeth.

  Chapter 13

  The Real You

  “Dr. Dolvan, do you have a moment? I need your help.” A low-toned, soft voice startled me from my thoughts.

  I turned to see a disheveled Bridgette standing in the doorway. She was slightly trembling. I quickly rose and rushed over to help her into a chair in front of my desk. I peeked out into the hall to make sure no one was straggling in the hallway. It was the end of the day, and everyone was leaving.

  “Bridgette, I have been worried sick about you! How did you get away? Did they hurt you? Did they rape you?” I fired question after question, not giving her a moment to breathe or answer them.

  Bridgette looked over her shoulder, then all around the room. She wanted to make sure they were alone before she told him everything. She took a deep breath. “Dr. Dolvan, what I am about to tell—” She stopped.

  “Come on; it’s okay. You’re safe now. I’ll close the door. Have a seat. Nobody’s going to hurt you. He left and is long gone. You’re safe, I promise. Everyone has left for the day.” I spoke calmly to ease her and gently rubbed her arm to give her a sense of security; then I sat next to her.

  “Dr. Dolvan—Naheri—what I’m about to tell you will change everything. I first want you to know how sorry I am for the part I played, but I didn’t have a choice.”

  I looked at her, not knowing what she was about to tell me, but whatever it was, I knew it was big. Never before had she called me by my first name.

  “I was part of this whole thing. I was the one who set up your wife and Flex. The man I’m working for is Rasta from Jamaica. When I met him, he held something over my head and forced me to help. I didn’t want to help him hurt you like this—not you, of all people. You are the only one who has ever treated me like I mattered.” She cried uncontrollably.

  “Okay, Bridgette, it’ll be okay. Calm down and tell me all about what you have taken part in to destroy my family and me.”

  “I had to—or else he was going to kill my family and tell them about my addiction.” She dropped her head low, ashamed.

  “What do you mean? Are you still on drugs? I thought—”

  “I know . . . but after you helped me get off of the drugs, I reached out to my family to show them that I was not the same person I used to be. I was clean and living a good life. They finally allowed me to visit on the regular, interact with everybody, even invited me to family events. Naheri, you don’t know how much this meant to me. I was finally good in their eyes.”

  “But, Bridgette, what made you start using again? Were you high at work?”

  “No, I was never high at work. I met this guy, and at first, it was just a sprinkle in the blunts we was smoking, which I didn’t think was a big deal because I wasn’t smoking every day. But then the little sprinkle wasn’t cutting it; then I took my first hit in a long time, and it felt really good.” She started to cry again.

  “What the hell, Bridgette . . . I’m sorry . . .” I grabbed her hand. “It’ll be okay. Now tell me, what did you do?”

  “I helped him.”

  “Helped who?”

  “The man that just left your office.”

  My head dropped, and my anger started to show. “You helped that man? The same man trying to kill my wife?” I stood up and started to pace the floor from the door to the chair she was seated in. “What the fuck did you do?”

  “I told him about you and your wife after he told me his story. I told him where you lived and that you had a son. That’s when he came up with a plan to get to your wife, and the only way to do that was to take your son.”

  I stopped pacing and stood directly in front of her and lowered my face inches from hers. “Where the fuck is my son?”

  “I promise I didn’t do anything to hurt him. I fed him.”

  At this point, my anger overcame me. I yanked her right up out of the chair and tossed her ass against the door. “I’m not going to ask you again. Where the fuck is my son?”

  Bridgette lowered her eyes and fell to the floor in tears. “I know he is not your biological son. I found out right before Rasta kidnapped him. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how. I ran across the DNA test on the little boy.”

  “Oh,
did you? Well, you also know he is my junior. DNA or not, he is my son. I don’t care what his mother may or may not have done—he is my son.” I punched the door above her head with anger oozing from every word.

  She eased up carefully and wiped her tears. “Come, follow me.”

  I started to cut off the lights and close the window blinds at a hurried pace, thinking we would be leaving the office to get my son.

  “Lock the front door,” Bridgette urged me.

  She walked toward a room with me following close behind. Together, we walked to the surgery area. I had no surgeries scheduled for today, so the area was empty. I only hoped I wasn’t walking into another trap. We entered an unoccupied surgical room. Then I stopped dead in my tracks when I spotted my son through the window of the door. He was lying on the metal table with a gown thrown over him.

  I almost knocked Bridgette over to open the door. I rushed over to him. “What the fuck? What the hell did they do to my son?” I cried hard. At that moment, I wished I never met Elana, or Dutchtress, a ruthless murderer that fooled me for years. She led me to believe he was ours. The child who carried my name and knows only me as his father. It sank in. Elana was not the person I thought she was. Everything was a lie from the start.

  I should have listened to my mother when she told me she didn’t trust Elana. I tossed her doubtful comments out of the window. I could hear her voice loud and clear now. “I don’t like her. There is something about that girl I can’t put my finger on it, but something is not right with her.” It hit me like a ton of bricks. I made up my mind right at that moment that neither my son nor I would be subjected to Elana’s lies and her deceit any longer. I was truly done. There was no talking through it. Sitting down like adults working out our problems was not going to happen.

  “Bridgette, close the door. I need to examine him. I need to make sure he has no internal bleeding or anything. Help me quickly.”

  “Of course, Naheri,” she said moving at lightning speed.

  I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat and choke the life out of her. I have never been a violent man, but this right here could turn any man.

  I removed the gown from him and started to examine his body, making sure he had no broken limbs.

  “Daddy?” his little voice called out.

  “Yeah, son, it’s me. You’re good now. Daddy’s here.”

  “Daddy, my face hurts. . . .” His words groggily trailed off.

  The bruises on his face, head, and chest almost made me break the stethoscope. I didn’t want to scare little man, so I started to hum one of his favorite songs from Lion King to ease him. The wound on his head looked like someone hit him with something hard. My heart fell into the pit of my stomach. Seeing my son like that was too much for me.

  It was a relief that the bruises were just on the surface and no limbs were broken. I know I would have to do some more tests and have his body x-rayed to make sure there were no minor fractures that a physical exam would not reveal. “I’m going get him something to help him with the pain. When was the last time he ate? Do you know, Bridgette? When did you feed him last?”

  Her face turned white. It looked like she was about to throw up. The look on her face had me wondering. Did she partake in his torture, or did she stand by and watch someone treat him like an animal? I had so many questions, but time was of the essence. I walked over to the locked medicine cabinet. I remembered that I didn’t have the room restocked after my last surgery, so I hoped some pain meds were still in here. I quickly searched through the medication and came across some Oxycodone. It was strong, so I had to be careful. If given enough, it could make a patient feel like they were on cloud nine, but too much could kill my son because of his weight and size.

  I picked up the bottle with the seal still fresh on the top and grabbed a syringe. I held the bottle to the light. I wanted to make sure to give him the correct dosage. Every thought of anger, lies, and deception from everyone but my son flashed in my head. I pulled the plunger back farther to fill the syringe, growing angrier and angrier. I didn’t plan for things to go like this. It was not supposed to be like this. I emptied the bottle that was full of medicine into the syringe.

  “Bridgette, stick your head out of the door. I thought I heard something.”

  “Sure, Naheri . . . I mean, Dr. Dolvan,” she whispered with a smile on her face. She walked back over to the door and reached for the knob.

  As soon as she slightly cracked it, I quickly walked toward her and plunged the syringe deep into the side of her neck. I watched her body fall limp. I caught her before she fell to the floor. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. I pulled her body into the room; then I walked over to the medicine cabinet and filled the syringe with Propofol. I didn’t want any loose ends, and she was most definitely a loose one. Then, I walked back to her limp body.

  “Die, you fucking bitch—die!” I emptied the syringe into her neck. I could see her body falling to the drug. She would die peacefully. “Sorry, Bridgette, you had to be a casualty in this, but you were a part of this mess.”

  Anger overwhelmed me. I didn’t want to kill her, but there was no way I was going to let her live after she told me she helped that man. Did she really think she was going to come in here with my son, tell me some half tale and walk out with a smile on her face? I was no hardened criminal, but I sure as hell wasn’t a fool and would allow this bullshit to happen.

  I dropped the syringe into the red box by the door. Then I dragged her body closer to the washing station. There was a cabinet underneath big enough for her body to fit in. I stuffed her in there and walked back over to the medicine cabinet. There was some Ibuprofen in liquid form, so I grabbed a new syringe and filled it to give to my son. “Okay, buddy, this may pinch a little bit, but I have to give it to you so you can feel better.” I gave him a small amount, but enough to ease his pain.

  “Daddy, where’s Mommy? I want Mommy.”

  “You’ll see her soon, son. I promise, but now, we have to get out of here quickly. I don’t want anything else to happen to you. So for now, you can’t see Mommy.” I dropped the syringe into the red box. Then I scooped my son into my arms and held him tightly. Tears fell from my eyes. There was no way I was going to let him out of my sight, and I definitely wasn’t telling that bitch of a wife I got him either. She can slaughter and hunt down whoever with that motherfucker, Flex. Let him clean up her mess.

  Cautiously, I left the office building. Since I parked my car in the back, it was easy to get my son to the car without being seen. I gently laid him down in the backseat. Once I got into the driver’s seat, I pulled out my cell phone.

  “Meet me at the airport, and have the jet gassed up and ready. My guest and I will be leaving for an extended stay in Kingston.” I hung up the phone.

  If she doesn’t die on American soil, I will make sure the last breath she takes will be in my homeland.

  Chapter 14

  Hell Hath No Fury . . .

  Flex and I drove at top speed over to the address on Laflin Street. We pulled around to the back of the address, and just as Ms. Ruby said, the place looked abandoned. We snapped the clips in our 9 mm Glocks. We had them cocked and ready to blow anyone’s head off if they decided to make a run for it. My main concern was getting my son out safely. I slowly crept through the gangway on the side of the house. Flex circled on the other side. When I came up to a window, I heard shouting. I knew it was Rasta’s men from their heavy accents.

  I heard one say, “How dem get away? Boss gonna kill mi dead for dis fuckery!”

  Slowly, I crept to the door, which was partially opened. I could see the two fuckers standing there with their backs turned to the door. I nodded to Flex and pointed to the door with my gun. Quickly, I kicked the door wider, and we shot at their heads. Both their bodies hit the floor immediately.

  Flex rushed throughout the house, searching every room for our son. Suddenly, bullets were flying from the back of the house. He dove headfirst through an o
pen door. “Muthafucka!” he yelled. I hid behind a wall and ducked low. I could hear Flex returning fire. The hail of bullets seemed endless until I heard someone screaming in agony. I listened carefully to make sure it wasn’t Flex. When I was sure it was safe to come out from behind the wall, I rushed toward the screaming and saw Flex standing over a heavyset man with dreads crawling toward the back door. Flex kicked him in the head. “Where the fuck is the boy?”

  “He not ’ere,” the guy said as he moaned and groaned from the pain of a bullet lodged in his right side of his body and his left leg.

  Flex stepped on his leg where he was shot. “Fuck you mean he not here! Where is my son?” he said through clenched teeth.

  I went to every room in the house and looked in every closet. Junior wasn’t there, but when I went into the last room, I saw a mattress in the middle of the floor, and the board was off one of the windows in the room. I looked at the floor and saw something shiny. He was here; we were just too late. I rushed to the back of the house where Flex was.

  Just as he was about to pull the trigger and end this fucker’s life, I shouted, “Flex, Flex, he’s not here!” I had found the little bracelet I gave to him when he was 5. I had it engraved: “None before we, death before dishonor.” I held the bracelet up in the dread’s face. “Where the fuck is my son?”

  “Mi not know! Ow! Dem gon’ wen mi got ’ere.”

  I cocked my Glock and pressed it close to his temple. My face contorted into a frown. “So you think this shit is a joke, huh? You think it’s okay to fuck with what’s mine? Hey, Flex, they think this shit all good, I see.” I smiled from ear to ear with a chuckle. Then I leaned closer toward the man’s face and lowered my lips to whisper in his ear. “I’ll make sure to find your family and kill them just so you can see your family on the other side, motherfucker!”