by Eureka
I couldn’t bring myself to be truthful with him, and he damn sure wasn’t truthful with me. I guess the old saying is true: I wonder, can you swallow the same mix you done made for someone else? I sometimes cursed those old wives’ tales. Ms. Ruby always had one or two to teach me as I was growing up. Right now, I was sitting at this desk with the same medication I had dished out, finding it hard to accept.
I scrolled down some more and saw a video of Bridgette bound and gagged as a dark-complexioned man held up a sign saying, “COOPERATE OR FIND SHE HEAD AT YA STEP.” I obviously really didn’t know my husband as well as I thought I did. I scrolled a little more, almost unable to take all that I had found out already, but my curiosity got the better of me. I went down, and what I saw next almost caused my heart to leap out of my chest.
I jumped up from the chair. “Flex! Flex! Come here!”
I ran down the hall of the office calling out for him, but there was no answer. I walked toward the back where surgeries took place. I saw Flex through a window in the door standing in a surgical room. When I entered the room, he was looking at Bridgette’s body half stuffed under the sink. He looked at me, and it seemed as if he had tears forming in his eyes. I was thrown off because why would he shed tears for this bitch if she meant nothing? Or was she more than what he was telling me? If Flex lied to me about this bitch, what else did he lie about? I already had one man in my life lying to me for years. Now, if Flex was in that same boat, there would be no future with him. Ever. I decided to get to the bottom of that situation at another time because right now, the man I married has completely flipped the fucking script.
“Flex, you need to see this. Follow me.” I walked out of the room and headed back to Naheri’s office and sat in front of his computer. Quickly, I opened the DNA file again and looked at the names listed. Dameon James. The name looked real familiar. “There is no way he could be a blood relative to that muthafucka!” I said, clenching my fists tightly together as I reflected on his birth name. Could it be that one of my mistakes was coming back to me on every avenue to bite me in the ass? If my suspicions were correct, he shared the same last name as one of my once good friend-turned-enemy.
“Look at what I found on Naheri’s computer! He’s been lying the whole time,” I said in a huff and turned to him with my face scrunched up into a frown and frustration written on my face.
“What? You got a problem with me? This motherfucker ain’t even who he say he is.” He moved to the chair in front of the desk. He looked defeated.
“Why you looking like that? Like you lost your best friend or some shit.” As much as I didn’t want to know what the real reason was that he was tearing up over that lame bitch, I threw a slight jab to see his reaction.
He gave me a look like I was overreacting and overthinking shit. “Dutch, I went to the back to search around. I got in the room and started to open whatever cabinet doors I could, hoping to find something indicating that Junior was here. I walked around the metal table there and noticed a cabinet under the sink. I opened it, and she was stuffed in there, dead. Before you came in, I noticed her pocket was bulgy, so I pulled her out enough to retrieve what was in it. It was a small recorder. I pressed play. I guess she was using it as a journal or some shit. She had details on how she and that Rasta muthafucka set this whole kidnapping shit up. Not only did the dumb bitch help them, but, Dutch . . .” Flex stopped to take a deep breath. “What you saw was not tears of sadness, but I’m so mad at this bitch. . . .” Anger was etched all over his face this time. He stopped, put the recorder on the desk, and pressed play on it.
“I don’t know who the fuck he thinks I am! I’m not a babysitter.”
I could hear a small voice whimpering in the background. I listened closely. It sounded just like Junior. Then I hear a loud smacking sound. “Shut the fuck up crying, you little bastard! Your momma not here! I should burn your ass with this cigarette.”
Suddenly I heard a cry I will never forget, one no mother could forget: the sound of her child screaming out in pain. I pushed past Flex and raced back to where Bridgette’s body lay. “You cheap, stupid bitch! Die, bitch, die!” I screamed as I released my full clip in her body. I shot her in the face, hands, neck, anywhere I could shoot. Then I grabbed a small scalpel and started carving her face. “This bitch! She burned my baby! Flex, revive this bitch so I can kill her again! Bring her back! She needs to feel this shit! Stupid bitch!” I pushed the scalpel in deeper into the side of her face. There was no blood leaking. Her body was cold as ice, and she was still in that crumpled position.
“Dutch, come on, baby, she’s dead! Hell, she more than dead. She gone. Damn, ain’t shit left of her tired-ass body.” Flex grabbed me by the waist to pull me away from her. I was trying to get one more slice across her face. “Come on; there’s more you need to hear on this recording.”
“Dumb bitch!” I screamed and kicked as he pulled me out of the room. I lost it. After I heard my son’s bloodcurdling scream, I wanted—no, I needed—to kill her myself. “After all the times I spared this bitch’s life! I noticed her all up in Naheri’s face a time or two. Even after I caught the bitch smoking on the premises, I didn’t say a word. Then, I mean really, then to find out she was fucking you! I should have kicked her ass underneath the truck that night!” I said as my anger intensified once again.
“Dutch, you need to hear this,” Flex said again as he dragged me back to Naheri’s office. He turned the recorder back on.
“Die, you fucking bitch, die! Sorry, Bridgette, you had to be a casualty in this,” I heard Naheri’s voice say in what seemed to be the final moments of her life. I guess she left the recorder on after her last entry.
“Flex, that’s Naheri’s voice. He killed that girl. Oh my God! This is not the man I married. And look at what I found on this flash drive. It’s just the tip of the iceberg as far as what he’s capable of. Come over here and look at this.” I pointed to the name on the DNA test results.
“Dameon James? Who the hell is that?” Flex asked.
“Apparently, this is his real name. I’ve been with this man for over seven years and not one time did I suspect him of being a part of them muthafuckas.”
“Part of who? Dutch, who the fuck you talking about? Who is this Dameon dude?”
“Flex, Dameon is Naheri’s real name. Does the name look familiar?”
“Hell no! I don’t remember it offhand. Should I?”
“Hell yeah, you should! Remember when we had to make that hit in Jamaica about five years ago?”
“Yeah, when we had to take care of Garland James, yeah. But what does this have to do with him?”
“The dude that was in the shit with Rasta’s brother Jahele . . . Well, I remember digging up dirt on him right before they tried to set us up. Remember, that’s how we were able to beat them to the punch. The guy’s last name was James, born in Ocho Rios, Jamaica. I was sure we got them all. Damn! I can’t believe I fucked up like this again! Fucking loose ends!” I said through clenched teeth as I slammed my fist on the desk. “Do you see anything else?” I said, pointing at the screen. “The muthafucka knows about Junior not being his biological son. He has known since my baby was damn near born. Flex, how in the hell did I get caught slipping like this? I have worked too damn hard to get to where I am.”
“So, what you think? You think he married you to get revenge for killing his people? I mean, that is a little too far even in the name of revenge. Come on, Dutch, there has to be more to this.”
“You might be right. I got to find this nigga and get some answers. I have searched everywhere I think he would be, and nothing. Then to come here and find this dead bitch in his office . . . I know he killed her. I don’t know who the fuck I’m dealing with. This is the worst type of enemy: the one you never see coming.”
Suddenly a huge brick came through the window, and screeching tires were heard on the pavement. Then a loud thud against the front door caused us to leap over the desk and head toward the front do
or with our 9 mm guns cocked and ready. When I snatched the door open, ready to bust at anyone on the other side, Rasta’s bullet-riddled body was at our feet with a note attached to his chest that read:
Hope you and your lover enjoy your stay in jail.
Next, I heard sirens coming from the distance. I looked up at Flex as I knelt down to read the note. “Get the fuck outta here now!” I yelled. He looked at me, confused, I had a strong feeling this was a setup to frame us.
“Dutch, I’m not leaving you! You not going down for this!”
“Go, Flex.”
He paused for a second. “Hell no. Ain’t no way you can beat this shit. The body back there is cold as ice, and you lit her up with your gun. Let’s go! Now!”
I hated to admit it, but he was right. There was no way I could explain the dead body in the back. I do have a license to conceal and carry, so those bullets would have my name written all over them. “Come on, let’s go.” I hurried to Naheri’s office to pull the flash drive out and grab Bridgette’s recorder.
We made a mad dash toward the back entrance. I could hear the sirens getting closer. We ran to Flex’s truck and pulled off in time. Two minutes away from the scene and we were safe . . . until I saw lights and sirens behind the truck. We were headed in the opposite direction, so I thought this was it. I looked at Flex, hoping he would say something to ease me. He slowed the truck down and veered right, then put it in park. I reached for my gun and tucked it under my seat.
The police car sped past us.
My heart was relieved, and I started to breathe again. Flex grabbed my hand and squeezed it.
“Thought we done.”
“For a second, but either way, we was shooting our way out of it.” I grabbed the gun from under the seat and put it beside me.
“Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
I said a silent prayer for my son and for forgiveness about what I planned on doing. Now I have to go to see my so-called husband, and he better pray to God he kills me first.
Chapter 19
Next Stop, Destiny
“Mi dun know why, but we almost ’ere,” I said as I spoke with my cousin in Jamaica.
I ended the call and looked out the window and over the clear blue waters. My mind drifted to happier days when I was younger. The time I spent on the island taught me a lot, and it had been a long time since I had been home. When we honeymooned on this island, I was a bit nervous, and I did my best not to be seen. As much as I wanted to bring Elana back with Junior to show her and tell her who I really was, it became apparent that I needed to keep my identity close to my chest. At first, it was all about payback for what she did to my family. I hunted her. I found out who she was, where she was, and how I could get at her. After getting her, however, something changed. I built a life with her. I saw the hard-core killer she really was. I knew who she was. How dreadful she was. How cold she was. But I blocked it out. Then when this shit happened with Junior, it all came back in a rush. The lies she told. The deceit. I shook my head and cursed myself for allowing love to control my decisions. Humph, relative, my ass! I could see the way he looked at her and the way she looked at him. I should have nipped that shit in the bud back then!
I sat daydreaming and wondering what might have been if I could have done things differently, if my son was mine, and if Elana could have loved me and only me. Ever since I found out that Junior wasn’t mine, and I saw Flex and her together, I wanted to choke both of them. They played me like a fool. This would serve them the ultimate payback.
“What’s wrong, Dameon?” my mother said, bringing me out of my thoughts. “You look like you have something on your mind, son.”
“Mother, I’m fine, but please don’t call me Dameon. I left that name behind when I left this country. Besides, my son doesn’t know me by that name, nor will he ever.”
“Okay, Naheri, have it your way. I told you to leave that she-witch a long time ago, but no, you wanted to love her. The devil himself wouldn’t love her treacherous ass.”
“Mother, what Elana did to our family was a long time ago. And at this moment, my only concern is him.” I pointed to Junior fast asleep stretched out in the seat.
“What do you mean? She lied! He is not your so—”
“Do not say that again! He is my son, and if I hear it again, I swear to God . . .” I was so upset to hear my mother speak those words. “He is mine. No matter what a test says, I will raise him as mine!”
I sat back in the chair of the plane while my mother sulked in hers. “Humph! All I’m saying is that you should have left her a long time ago.”
“Nafesa, leave him alone! We have enough to worry about without you rubbing it in his face,” my father said to her as he sat back in his seat and sipped on his glass of liquor.
“Humph!” she scuffed at him. “I still say he should have left her a long time ago.” My mother was determined to say her piece.
I couldn’t keep sitting in my seat. A hundred and one thoughts occupied my mind, causing my emotions to be all over the place. I got up to check on Junior. Watching his little bruised face sleeping made me feel the decision to come back to Jamaica was the right one. I watched him a little while. He slept from the medication I had given him earlier. I knew he would be okay, but I needed to get him out of the country and away from his mother and her lying, cheating ways. He needed to be away from all that mess, but my only hope was that I wasn’t bringing him into a bigger one.
I walked over to the little bar setup and poured myself a nice stiff drink. I wondered what the repercussions would be when Elana found out everything. If she got out of that trap I set for her and her lover, she should have found the DVD I left for her.
I stood there for a few moments and closed my eyes, silently saying two prayers: one for protection and the other for forgiveness. If it came down to it, I would kill again to keep my son. There was no way in hell Elana and Flex were going to have a happily ever after—not if I had the last word on it. And with everything I managed to set up before I left, they wouldn’t be skipping off into the sunset. Instead, they would be getting a one-way ticket to hell and misery.
* * *
“That got damn Naheri! When I get my hands on him, I’ma choke his ass out!” Flex angrily said as he stormed inside the house I shared with Naheri.
“Calm down. I don’t know for sure if he was behind this. Besides, we dodged that bullet for now.” I walked into the den and started thinking back to all that had gone down within the last 24 hours.
After the police stormed Naheri’s office, I received a phone call from them. They told me I needed to come down to the station for questioning. As a lawyer of criminals, I knew this was a ploy to get me in front of them without a lawyer. I wasn’t playing that game. I marched down there with a lawyer at my side. She was someone I trusted not to divulge my business to anyone, including the firm we worked for.
When I got there, two detectives met me. They were the total opposites of each other. One short, white, and fat and the other tall, black, and lanky. Their eyes almost dropped from their sockets when they saw that I had someone else with me.
“Hello, Mrs. Dolvan.”
“Hello.”
“And who is this?” the short fatty pointed to my girl.
“She’s a friend and is here to support me.”
“Where have I seen your face before?” the tall detective asked.
“Ah . . . Yes, I am Jessica Gomes, a defense lawyer. You may have seen my face on television speaking at press conferences.”
“Mrs. Dolvan, there was no need for a lawyer to be present unless—”
“No way. I been in this business a long time now, and I have seen the headlines. You will not make me a stepping stool in your career.”
“All right, Elana. I am not here as her lawyer. I am here as a supportive friend.”
The detectives looked at each other.
“Now, are we talking out here or in a room? What happened? And why isn’t my h
usband here?”
“Okay, Mrs. Dolvan, please follow me.”
Jessica and I followed them toward a room. They ushered us both in. The room was cold and lit up like the North Star. We took our seats, and the tall detective closed the door behind us.
After everyone was seated, they told me that there was an “incident” at my husband’s office.
“What? An incident? What kind of incident? What happened to my husband?” I grabbed Jessica’s hand to show my surprise and concern.
“Umm . . . First, your husband was not on the premises. That’s why you are here.”
“Okay, what happened? Where is he?”
“That’s what we don’t know and were hoping you can help us locate him.”
“Wait . . . What happened at the office?”
“Well, this is unofficial, and we are still in the process of investigating. We found two dead bodies. One at the front door and the other in one of the rooms in the back.”
When the detective said that, I immediately started to cry. My acting skills were on point, and my girl Jess knew exactly what to say.
“Detectives, obviously, this is a shock, and she will need some time before answering any more questions, but I think her concern right now is her husband. She needs to make some calls and find out what exactly is going on with him. This is a little complicated because she and her husband have been separated lately due to his infidelity.”
The detectives looked at each other.
Jessica looked at me and said, “Come on, Elana. I’ll get their cards, and you can call them when you get a hold of Naheri.”
“Ms. Gomes, is it? Here you go and please, as soon as Mrs. Dolvan can get in touch with Mr. Dolvan, have him call us.”
I wiped my eyes as I got up and walked out of the room. Jess and I walked straight out of the building. I saw Flex’s truck in the parking lot.
“That was interesting . . .” Jess said.
“Yes, thanks for showing up on such short notice. Again, I will keep you in the loop just in case I do need a lawyer.” I gave her a quick hug and walked toward Flex’s truck.