The Safe House

by Kiki Swinson

  “Where to?” the cabby asked.

  “Take me downtown,” I said.

  “Where exactly?”

  “Down on Cleveland Street.”

  “North or south?”

  “South,” I told him, and then we were off.

  I sat there with my head resting against the headrest of the back seat. I racked my brain trying to piece all my thoughts together, but I couldn’t. Here I am sitting in the back seat of the taxi, trying to figure out where to go or where to hide, because there is a gang of mercenaries and dirty cops looking for me. How has my life come to this?

  I knew I’d done some bad things in my life, but I’d never done anything that would warrant me to be in this situation. My heart ached because I didn’t know what kind of state my mother was in. For all I knew, she could be dead, just like my grandmother and my cousin. Not only that, but I had blood on my own hands. So when the authorities figured out that they had Terrell’s body, I was going to have to figure out how I was going to deal with that.

  My whole life was screwed up because I stole a couple of muscle relaxers, which I gave to my cousin. How stupid could I have been? My only hope right now was to find a way to get through all of this bullshit before the cops found out that I had killed Terrell.

  “We’re here, ladybug,” the cabdriver announced.

  I lifted my head and noticed that we were in the downtown area, traveling down Cleveland Street. I looked around at the different people walking around on this busy street. Cleveland Street had a multitude of restaurants, retail shops, and grocery stores. ALDI was a grocery store located two miles from my apartment. I frequented this place when I wanted fresh seafood. My purpose for driving by was to check out the scenario before I had the cabdriver circle around the outskirts, near my place. I would not have asked the cabdriver to drive down my street, no way. That would’ve been a dummy move! But I did have him cruise the area so I could see what was going on. I figured that there could be a possibility that the DEA could have a couple of agents posted up around here, waiting to see if I pop up out of nowhere—or so they thought.

  “Will you slow down?” I asked the cabdriver after he zoomed up on an older lady walking out of the grocery store. I looked at her twice and realized that I was looking at my neighbor Mrs. Mabel. My heart stopped. I wasn’t sure if I wanted the driver to stop and let me out or have him continue driving. After I thought about it, my gut told me to get out of the car. “You can let me out here,” I instructed him.

  When I stopped the cab, I paid him and then I exited the car. I walked with my head down as I pursued her. I had no idea what I was going to say to her, which was scary because what if she screamed for help and grabbed the attention of the people in the immediate area. “Misty, just remain calm. She’s not going to give you any problems,” I whispered quietly to myself.

  By now, I was within a few yards of her, and she was stuffing grocery bags into the trunk of her car, so I began to rehearse what I was going to say to her. Everything in my head said that if I stay calm, then she’ll cooperate with me. But it seemed like the closer I came to her, all that confidence went out of the window.

  Within a matter of minutes, she had put her grocery bags into her car and had made her way into the driver’s seat. I had no other option but to call her name. “Mrs. Mabel,” I said, loud enough for only her to hear me.

  And even though she heard her name being called, she had no idea where it came from.

  She turned around and looked to the right side of her car and then she looked behind herself, failing to look to the left. “Mrs. Mabel, I’m right here!” This time she heard me and sat there like she was paralyzed. Thankfully, she didn’t drive off. “What are you doing around here? Do you know that police detectives have been all around the apartment complex? They’ve been asking all the neighbors questions about you,” she told me as I stood before her.

  “Mrs. Mabel, whatever the cops are saying about me is a lie. They’re trying to make me look like a bad person, but I’m not,” I began to explain to her.

  “Why don’t you get in my car before someone recognizes you,” she insisted as she removed her purse from the passenger-side seat. After I climbed into the seat, I leaned the seat back a little, just in case I had to duck down.

  “Mrs. Mabel, you have no idea what I have been through these last few days, so I really appreciate you talking and letting me into your car.”

  “It’s okay. I know you do,” she said to me, and then she drove out of the grocery store parking lot. “So tell me what’s going on, because cops have been on high alert these last couple of days.”

  I knew I had to choose my words carefully before I uttered anything. Mrs. Mabel was an elderly woman, and she had to be at least sixty-five years old. If I told her that I was involved in a drug heist gone bad, and I’d also managed to kill my ex-boyfriend on top of that, this lady would probably call the cops on me in a heartbeat. And looking at it from her perspective, I wouldn’t blame her. After thinking about what would be more appropriate to say, I told her that the cops were looking for me because they thought I had something to do with my ex-boyfriend going missing.

  “You know what? That’s exactly what the police said when they came by my place,” she acknowledged.

  See, I knew it. I knew that if I had said anything about the DEA drug bust, how my grandmother and my cousin were murdered as a result of it, this lady wouldn’t have let me into her space. In her mind, the cops can’t convince her that I had something to do with Terrell’s disappearance because that’s not the person she sees me as. She sees me as this very polite young lady that lives alone and aspires to be a pharmacist. That’s it.

  “When did they come and speak with you?” I asked her.

  “They stopped by yesterday. It was very early in the morning. It was about eight. I had just prayed and read my Bible. It was a white woman and man. They were both nice. I asked him if they wanted to come in, so I let them in. The woman did the most talking.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She wanted to know how long you been living in the building. Then she showed me a picture of your male friend and asked me when was the last time I saw him with you—”

  “And what did you say?” I cut her off.

  “I told them that I didn’t remember. But I did tell them how disrespectful he was toward you. I even told them how I’ve seen him push you around outside your car a few months ago.”

  “You saw that?” I asked her.

  “Yes, I saw it. I’ve seen and heard some other things too, but I knew what to say and what I shouldn’t. See, I was a victim of abuse at the hands of my first husband forty years ago. One day I woke up and said that I wasn’t going to let him put his hands on me anymore. And he didn’t.”

  “What did you do?” I wanted to know.

  “I tried to take his head off his shoulders with our son’s baseball bat. After he fell down on the floor, I called the cops and told them what I did and where he was.”

  “What happened when the police got there?”

  “They didn’t do anything to me because a week earlier I filed a restraining order, so by him coming into our house, he violated the order, so I had just cause to defend myself.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “He died a few years ago due to colon cancer.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m living my best years right now.”

  “So where is your son?”

  “He lives in California with his wife and kids. And they are doing wonderful.”

  “You mentioned that that guy was your first husband. Where’s your second husband?”

  “He died in a car accident ten years ago.”

  “Wow! You’ve been through a lot,” I commented. I mean, she’d been through more drama than I had. She was definitely a strong woman. While she gave me some backstory on her life, I realized that we were driving around in a circle, and I pointe
d that out. “Are you sure that we should be doing this?”

  “What’s wrong with me doing this?”

  “I don’t wanna bring any attention to your car, just in case the cops are hanging out around here.”

  “Would you feel better if I pull over?”

  “Yes, please,” I replied.

  “Will it be all right if I park in the shopping center across the street?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Mabel, that would be great,” I told her.

  Having her take instructions from me, I felt even more comfortable being in her presence.

  Right after she found a parking spot in front of Carlo’s Bakery, she powered off her car. “So, what are you going to do? Go back to your apartment?” she questioned me.

  I thought for a second, and it was only because I needed to come up with a plausible answer. After hearing stories from her past, I now knew that she was a very smart lady, and she wouldn’t take shit from anyone. So, after mulling things over, I said, “I figured that if I go home, the cops are only going to harass me, and I can’t have that kind of drama in my life. I just want to be left alone.”

  “I can understand that,” she agreed. “Why don’t you go to your grandmother’s place?”

  “She’s in the hospital. I literally just came from seeing her,” I lied, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

  “What is going on with her? Will she be all right?”

  “Yes, she’s going to be fine.” I lied once more. What I really wanted to do was get off this subject concerning my grandmother. I was really hurting inside just thinking about the fact that she was dead.

  “So, what about your mother? Why don’t you stay over there for a while?” Mrs. Mabel suggested.

  “My mother is out of town and she left her boyfriend at the house, and see, he and I don’t get along, so I’d rather just stay away from over there. At least while she’s gone.” My lies continued. I swear, I had no idea how I was so able to come up with these stories so quickly. My only hope was that I would remember these same lies if I was confronted with them later.

  “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you stay at my place for a while. At least until your mother comes back,” she offered. I couldn’t believe that she uttered those words from her mouth. As much as I wanted to take her up on her offer, how was I going to sneak into her house without anyone seeing me?

  After thinking about it for several minutes, I said, “Okay, I will stay with you, but I cannot let anyone see me.”

  “So, how are we going to do that?”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what, since we don’t have parking garages and only carports, I want you to drive back home and act normal, just in case the cops are watching our building. Park in your designated spot, get your things from the trunk, and go into your house like everything is cool. And while you’re doing that, I’m gonna stay inside your car and wait until nightfall before I get out. After I get out, I’m gonna duckwalk the entire time, until I get to your front door. So make sure you keep watching out for me. As a matter of fact, when you see me coming toward your apartment, shut off the light so no one will see you opening your front door,” I instructed her.

  “All right, I can do that.”

  “Well, then, that’s our plan,” I said.

  “But wait, do you really think you can stay in my car all those hours. It’s just after two o’clock now.”

  “Don’t worry about me. It gets dark around five thirty or six, so I will be fine,” I assured her.

  Mrs. Mabel let out a long sigh. “Okay, I guess you know what you’re doing,” she commented, and then we put our plan in motion.

  7

  SCARED SHITLESS

  Ms. Mabel and I did a little small talk until we got in front of our apartment building. We stopped talking immediately after she put her gearshift in Park. “Well, we’re here,” she said without a lot of movement from her mouth. A lot of people can read lips, so this was why she used that tactic to communicate with me. And before she got out of the car, she told me to be careful not to let anyone see me. I promised her that I would do just that. I also thanked her for helping me out. After she told me “you’re welcome,” she closed the driver’s-side door and walked away from the car. From there, the time started ticking.

  I knew I had at least four hours to hide out in this car before I would be able to exit. I thanked God for the cool weather outside, because if it had been a typical summer day, I’d be in a world of trouble.

  While I hung out in Mrs. Mabel’s car, I heard several comments from one of my neighbors as she walked by Mrs. Mabel’s car or stood thirty feet from it. The voice sounded familiar, and as I continued to hear it, I realized that it was my neighbor Candace. Candace lived in the building next to Mrs. Mabel and me. She was a small-framed black woman. She and I never talked really, but we did do the introduction thing, which was why I knew her name. I also found out that she was married with three kids, and that she was middle-aged, with a bum for a husband. All of her children were in middle school, so I knew that they were young. Unlike her, her husband was very social. I saw him canvassing the neighborhood many times to see who he could flirt with while Candace was at work. He never tried to flirt with me, because if he had, I would’ve hurt his feelings.

  Candace was talking on her cell phone. I couldn’t hear the other person, but Candace sure made up for it with the juicy details of a fight she had with her husband. Judging from her conversation, I figured the fight with her husband started because he called her a ho! “I told him that he better not ever call me a ho again. Or I was going to put him out of the house for good,” I heard her say.

  She fell silent for about eight seconds and then she said, “The only reason why I am still with him is because of the kids. If we didn’t have the kids, I would’ve divorced him long ago.” Once again, she fell silent. But after a few more seconds, she said, “I told him he needed to go and live with his mother because I am so tired of coming home every day and seeing him sit on the sofa playing video games. This is not the life I signed up for after I married him,” she continued. The rest of her conversation started fading away because she had started walking toward her apartment building.

  After sitting on the passenger-side floor for some time, my back started hurting, so I climbed into the back seat of Mrs. Mabel’s floor. This freed my legs up, so I was able to stretch them out.

  An hour and a half later I heard voices again. This time it was two guys walking by. Thankfully, they didn’t walk directly by Mrs. Mabel’s car, because if they had, I wasn’t sure if they’d see me or not. I was able to eavesdrop on their conversation. Well, at least seven seconds of it. “Yo, dude, what was the last time you seen that chick that lives in that apartment building?” one guy asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe a few days,” the other guy answered.

  “Did you hear that she probably had something to do with her boyfriend going missing?” the first guy said, but I still wasn’t able to recognize either one of their voices. I peeped between the two front seats and was able to get a look at them both. To my surprise, they were my neighbors Sid and Lloyd. They were roommates and college students at one of our local universities. Both of them tried to flirt with me, on more than one occasion, but after I assured them that I would never date either one of them, they stepped back and gave me some space. But according to another neighbor, those two said that I tried to flirt with them and they told me that I wasn’t their type. Fortunately for them, I decided not to confront them. Because if I had, I would hurt their poor little feelings.

  “I can’t picture her doing that. But you never know,” Lloyd said as they walked on toward the apartment building.

  After I analyzed the conversation between the two, the one thing I could take away from it was that when people heard that I might have had something to do with Terrell going missing, they didn’t believe it. That, of course, was a good thing in my eyes. I just hoped the detectives saw it that way too.

  No one else
walked into the area of Mrs. Mabel’s car, so I was forced to lie back on the floor and reflect on my life. I remembered growing up with both my mother and my father in the same home. A lot of my friends didn’t have that, so I was fortunate from that aspect. The unfortunate thing about it was that I found my mother and me fighting for my father’s attention. My mother has always thanked my dad for coming into her life when he did. She would tell him all the bad things my grandmother did to her as a child after my grandfather had passed away. My grandfather was a savior in my mother’s eyes. So she felt like she had to fight my grandmother for my grandfather’s attention. And because of it, that behavior trickled down to my mother. She found herself fighting me for my dad’s attention. It was one bad cycle. I just wished that my mother would’ve had a healthy relationship with my grandmother. If she had, my relationship with her wouldn’t be strained. And to know that she could be somewhere dead, that caused me so much pain that I couldn’t live with right now. “God, please help me,” I said aloud. “God, if You help me to get out of this situation and find my mother, I will be in total debt to You.” I started praying aloud. “And, Lord God, I know it seems like I only come to You in prayer when I need something. But I really don’t feel that way. I just know that You can handle my situation better than I can. So I beg You right now, to help my mother and Carl. Because they shouldn’t be punished for something I did wrong. They don’t deserve it. They need You, Lord God. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.”

  After my prayer to God, I closed my eyes and thought about how I cannot be spotted getting out of Mrs. Mabel’s car. I was gonna have to stay as long as I could on the ground while traveling up to her front door. But what was most important was not allowing my neighbors to see me too. Not all of them like me, or know me, for that matter. So, if they saw me and watched me go into Mrs. Mabel’s apartment, they could report me to the cops. And the last thing I wanted to do was get picked up by the cops. After seeing Agent Taylor turn on Agent Sims for a million-dollar payoff, I cannot trust anyone with a uniform or badge. For all I know, all the cops and agents are crooked. So falling into their hands would end dangerously. And I couldn’t have that. Not today or tomorrow.