All I've Ever Wanted (15 page)

M
ax's car screeched to a halt outside Kennedy's apartment. He jumped out of the driver's seat just as a car backfired in the distance. Startled by the sound, he looked up and caught a glimpse of an older model, blue Buick Regal. Out of habit, he took note of the license plate before the car disappeared from view.

He took the stairs to Kennedy's apartment two at a time. He stopped short of knocking when he noticed the door stood slightly ajar. He automatically reached for his weapon.

“Damn, you guys are quick,” a woman said. “Don't worry, there's nobody in there.”

Max pivoted in the direction of the voice and saw
a heavyset woman struggling with a pair of crutches as she descended the staircase.

“Ma'am?”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “You're a cop, aren't you?”

His hand moved away from his gun. “Yes, ma'am.” He reached for his badge instead.

She held up a hand. “Save it. I can't tell a fake badge from the real deal. But you definitely look like a cop.” She continued to struggle down the stairs.

Max rushed over to help. “Here, let me.”

“My, aren't you a strong one? I tell you, these stairs are going to the death of me yet.”

He smiled, but wasn't quite sure of what to make of the woman.

“You must have already been in the neighborhood. I swear, it hasn't been but a few minutes since I called,” she continued.

He frowned. “I'm not quite sure I follow you,” he said.

“Aren't you responding to my call to the police?”

Max shook his head, hating to disappoint her.

She pulled away from him. “Then why
are
you here?”

He glanced over to Kennedy's door. “Let's just say, I'm here to check on a friend.”

The woman's earlier friendly demeanor vanished. “Kennedy doesn't have many friends, and
certainly none that look like you. Trust me, I would know.”

Max smiled at the woman's ability to pay him a compliment while calling him a liar. “We just met recently.”

She crossed her arms and gave him a look of disbelief. “Where?”

“Here.”

“She invited you here? Not likely.”

He was impressed by the woman's interrogation skills. “No. My partner and I weren't invited. We came to question her about an incident.”

“What incident?”

“I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name Mrs….”

She studied him for a moment before responding. “Mrs. Overton, Wanda Overton.”

He tilted his head. “It's nice to meet you Mrs. Overton. Now, what's this about a call to the station?”

“A friend, huh?” she asked, ignoring his question.

Max nodded.

Wanda's lips twitched into a half smile. “You better not be lying.” With some difficulty, she moved toward Kennedy's door and pushed it open.

No further explanation was needed as Max's eyes widened at the destruction that lay before him. His hand instinctively returned to his weapon.

“There's no need for that. I told you. Nobody is in there.”

“When did you discover this?”

“Actually, I was just here with her when she came home—”

“She?”

Wanda stared at him as if he had grown another head. “Yeah. She—Kennedy.”

“
She
was here today?”

“Yeah,
she
was.” Wanda shook her head as if saddened by the fact that he didn't seem too bright.

“Where is Kennedy now?” he demanded.

Wanda flinched.

“I'm sorry.” He extracted the impatience from his tone. “Do you know where she is now?”

“No.” She shook her head. “She wouldn't tell me where she was going. She just rushed in and stuffed a gym bag with some clothes and left with Bennie.”

“Who's Bennie?”

The look Wanda gave him said that she no longer believed that he was a friend of Kennedy's. Max clenched his teeth. He was tired of playing Mr. Congeniality, but he gave it one more try. “Please tell me. I believe her life is in danger.”

Wanda's mask of disbelief shattered before his eyes.

“B-Bennie is her boss at the Georgia Diner. They just left a little while ago. If you hurry maybe you can catch them. He drives a big, old, blue Buick Regal. I watched Kennedy leave from my window upstairs.”

 

The city passed in a blur as Kennedy stared out the passenger window. Her heart ached at every glimpse of a familiar building. She couldn't help pondering the possibility that this might be the last time she saw her hometown.

As she reflected on her short life, she really couldn't say that if she had the opportunity she would have done anything differently—except she would have avoided taking the trail into the woods last week. Other than that, she really had enjoyed a good life. She was blessed to have had loving parents. They may not have had much, but they had always given the best of themselves. She had been lucky enough to have experienced love with Lee Carsey, and from that love she'd borne a wonderful child. All she had ever wanted was to be happy, and she had achieved that. She smiled at the passing cars. When it came down to it, she had had a wonderful life.

“Are you sure you're not going to need anything else?” Bennie's concerned voice invaded her private thoughts.

She needed a miracle, but refrained from saying as much. “No. I should be fine.” Kennedy turned her smile to him, marveling at the ease of deception.

“Now, you're sure that you'll be back to work by next Monday?”

She nodded, then returned her gaze to the window. “I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

“Don't mention it. That's what friends are for.”

An image of Max flashed in her head and her smile faded. Her betrayal sat like rocks in the bottom of her stomach. Though her actions were nothing compared to those of his ex-wife, she wondered if he would judge her as harshly.

 

Max turned up the volume of his car radio, waiting anxiously for a response to the All Points Bulletin he'd placed on Bennie's car. He'd called his contact down at the DMV to verify Bennie's tag number. Now all he had to do was wait. He was all but certain that Kennedy's destination was Memphis; he just didn't know how she intended to get there. Had this Bennie agreed to take her? If so, which route would he take, I-20 through Birmingham or I-75 toward Nashville? One thing was clear; Max had to reach her before she left the jurisdiction.

Through the fog of troubled thoughts, his brain registered the shrill ring of his cell phone. “Yeah.”

“Maxwell?”

A frown immediately creased his face at the hauntingly familiar voice.

“Maxwell?” she questioned again in a hurried whisper.

“Make it quick, Aaliyah.”

“We need to meet.” Her voice dipped lower.

His frown deepened. “I'm busy.”

“Please. I'm onto something I know you'll be interested in.”

“I highly doubt it.”

Max caught the make of Bennie's car being reported over the police radio.

“I have to go now.” He disconnected the call and picked up his radio's hand unit. “Please repeat the sighting for tag number 543 TYD.”

 

As Bennie rolled his car to a stop at a red light, he emitted a gasp of disbelief at the sight of a swarm of blue-and-white lights flashing at him from every direction. “What in the hell?”

Frightened, he couldn't seem to force his limbs to move when a belligerent cop instructed him to step out of the car. When he finally mustered the courage to move, his body trembled as he waited for the unexpected.

Standing with his legs spread and his hands flat against the hood of his car, Bennie couldn't believe what was happening. Everything played out like a bad episode of
Cops
.

“C-can someone please tell me what this is all about?” he risked asking. Visions of being the next Rodney King made him feel sick to his stomach.

The police ignored him, but he didn't think they
would be as kind if he chose to pose the question again. Behind him, he heard a car door slam just before an authoritative voice sliced through the chaotic scene.

“Where is she?”

Bennie's confusion cleared as soon as he was spun to face a towering man who had a hard gleam in his eyes.

“Where's Kennedy?”

“W-who?” Bad move, Bennie assessed, based on the angry glare he received.

“Don't play games with me, Bennie. Where did you take her?”

Torn between loyalty and fear of a beat down, Bennie simply shook his head. He had a hard time believing that Kennedy was involved in anything illegal, so he chose to remain loyal: unless, of course, a beat down seemed imminent.

The menacing cop's visible struggle with his temper kept Bennie on edge and he glanced wildly about. Were the other cops just going to let this man rough him up in broad daylight?

“Look. Ms. St. James isn't in trouble with the law. We have reasons to believe that she and her son may be in danger. Just tell us where you took her before it's too late.”

“You have to do better than that, man.” Bennie shook his head.

In a flash, the angry cop gripped his shirt by the collar and jerked him within an inch of his face. “She's going to die if I don't reach her before she leaves town. Is that what you want?”

This time, Bennie read the truth in the man's eyes. “No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Then where did you take her?”

He took a deep breath before he took the plunge and trusted the cop. “I dropped her off at the Greyhound bus station. She's leaving on the next bus for Memphis.”

 

Kennedy stood at the back of a long line, waiting to board the bus. Once she stepped onto it, she would be nothing more than a calf being led to slaughter. But what other choice did she have?

It had been hours since she attempted to map out a plan that gave her family a chance of walking away from this alive. Perhaps somewhere in her subconscious, she had given up hope for herself.

The line moved at a snail's pace as the driver checked everyone's ticket. Aware that she wasn't in the clear yet, she continued to glance nervously about. When she reached the driver, she noticed that the older man's hands shook slightly, as though he had once suffered a stroke. But his eyes were kind and reminded her of another friendly bus driver—Leroy.

She smiled, accepted her ticket stub, and stepped
onto the bus. A baby's wail was the first sound that greeted her, and she had a sudden suspicion that she was in for a long ride. As she walked down the aisle, her suspicious gaze darted to each passenger she passed.

She found a pair of vacant seats toward the back, and prayed that she'd be lucky enough to sit by herself during her voyage.

She sat down and shoved her tote bag beneath her seat just as the driver climbed onboard.

The doors jerked closed when he swung the lever.

This was it, she realized. This bus would lead her straight to her death.

T
he tires of Max's car squealed when he took off for the Greyhound bus station. Per his request, four patrol cars followed. As they raced through traffic lights and ignored one-way signs, Max prayed they wouldn't be too late.

After years of being on the force, Max couldn't remember the last time he had feared failure. A clear snapshot of Kennedy's warm smile escalated his trepidation of the unknown and caused his foot to press even harder on the accelerator.

When the bus station finally came into view, he slammed on his brakes and caused another squeal of protest from his tires. He jumped out of the car and
the smell of burned rubber assaulted his nostrils. He waved off the scent and raced into the building.

The confused crowd inside parted like the Red Sea when the police raced past them. His gaze swept the room as he headed toward the ticket counter. There was no sign of Kennedy.

“Where's the bus heading out to Memphis?” he demanded from the woman behind the counter.

She glanced toward a door and then down at her watch. “I-it just left about three minutes ago.”

“Damn.” He pivoted, but then turned back. “What's the bus number?”

When she gave it to him, he replied, “Thanks.” He turned toward the other officers and instructed them on which bus to pursue.

The men nodded and ran back toward the main exit.

 

Kennedy stretched her feet out to rest on the adjoining seat. She had gotten her wish. At least she'd have a comfortable trip. She removed the fleece jacket she was wearing and bundled it into a ball so it could serve as a pillow.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the sun's warmth on her face. Her fate had been sealed. She sighed in resignation. Images of Maxwell Collier floated in her head like a dream, and she couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like if they had met under different circumstances. What would it have
been like to go out on a date with him—to have the chance to get to know each other like other couples?

She smiled, imagining a romantic evening at one of Atlanta's finest restaurants, and perhaps even a jazz concert of her choice. He, of course, would have been dressed to the nines in either Armani or Versace, while she, too, would have worn a designer original. Her smile widened as her Cinderella tale continued to unfold in her head.

The bus jerked to a stop and Kenney pitched forward onto the floor. Her right arm twisted awkwardly beneath her. Pain ripped through her as she struggled to get up.

She managed to return to her seat while clutching her broken arm close to her body. Wincing, she glanced out of the window to see why they had stopped.

Alarm gripped her at the sight of flashing blue-and-white lights.

“No.”

The bus doors swooshed open. She heard heavy footsteps approaching, even seconds before she saw his face.

“No,” she moaned. And at that exact moment Maxwell Collier's furious gaze met hers.

 

“I want Lawrence found,” Steve demanded into his car phone. His temper flared at an all-time high. “I can't believe how sloppy he's handled everything.
He may as well paint a red sign for the media, leading them to me.” He listened to the man on the other line before erupting again.

“What do you mean he's disappeared? Disappeared how?”

He listened again, and wished like hell that the dim-witted gang leader stood in front of him.

“Calm down? Don't tell me to calm down. I'll calm down when that man is found. Do I make myself clear?” He glanced into his rearview mirror and frowned at seeing the same gray Honda trailing two cars behind him.

“Look, I'm going to have to call you back. Uh-huh. Later.” He disconnected the call, and then adjusted the mirror. “Who in the hell is that?”

He made a sudden turn onto Tenth Street and waited for the Honda to materialize. When it did, he cursed out loud and reached over to the glove compartment for his gun.

 

Hands slick with perspiration, Aaliyah questioned her sanity once again. After every turn, she'd thought about bailing out of her ill-thought-out plan. She'd already contacted her editor promising him a story that would knock his socks off. She'd also called Reggie to tell him to meet her back at her place by seven.

However, the question of the hour was, why had she called Det. Collier? Maybe something within her wanted to make amends for the way she had treated
him. Perhaps she could do that by helping him solve the Underwood murder.

She shook her head. Maybe, but it was more like she was temporarily insane. The Mercedes turned down an alley and, for the first time, she wondered where the driver was headed. Nothing was out here on this side of town.

 

Max towered over Kennedy. “Going on a little trip?”

She clutched her injured arm closer. “Last time I checked, it was still a free country.”

His gaze grew sterner. “I need you to step off the bus, now.”

“No.” She watched a muscle twitch along his jawline.

“You have a choice. Either you can walk willingly or—” he removed his handcuffs from his belt “—we can give the good folks on this bus a show they'll never forget.”

She glared at him and tried to decide whether to call his bluff.

His brows rose as if he could read her thoughts.

“You once said that you never knew when to take me seriously. Do you remember what my answer was?”

To always take him seriously.
Seething, Kennedy stood. Her gaze fell to the crowd around her. All eyes watched her.

“Could you grab my bag? I think my arm is broken.”

A spark of concern lit his eyes, and then disappeared as if she had imagined it.

“Then I guess I need to get you to a doctor.”

She squeezed by him and waited for him to retrieve her things before moving down the aisle. When she stepped off the bus, she met another crowd of curious stares. This time her audience was the men in blue.

Max descended the stairs behind her, then gripped her good arm and led her firmly toward his car.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? Is that it?” he asked in a harsh whisper.

“I don't owe you an explanation,” she hissed back.

He opened the car door for her. “We'll just see about that.”

Too infuriated for a rebuttal, she got into the car and let her anger boil rampantly through her veins. She watched Max in the side mirror as he talked to his colleagues. A few minutes later, the bus pulled back into traffic and continued on its route.

Her vision blurred as she watched it disappear. What was she going to do now? Despair flooded her heart. There was nothing she could do. Everything was out of her hands.

The driver's door swung open and Maxwell slid in behind the steering wheel. She noticed the patrol cars had turned off their lights and pulled away.

“It looks like it's just you and me, kid,” he said. He turned to face her.

“Lucky me.”

He took in a sharp breath, held it, and then exhaled in a long weary sigh. “You do know how to try someone's patience.”

“Don't beat yourself up about it. You're not doing such a bad job at it yourself.”

The car fell silent for a moment. Kennedy guessed that he was calculating a different angle.

“Lawrence has your son, doesn't he?”

She turned away from him. Her actions were as much a dead giveaway as a confession would have been.

“What were you planning on doing once you got to Memphis?”

She sighed, and then gave him a sharp look. “Just cut the crap, all right? I didn't have a plan. I was going to wing it.”

“You were going to wing it?”

She clenched her teeth.

Max shook his head. “Funny. You look like a bright girl.”

“What do you want from me? I'm trying to save my son.”

“Then why won't you let me help you do that?” he thundered. “It's apparent that you can't do it alone.”

“Well,
Shaft.
From where I'm sitting, it doesn't
appear that you're doing such a bang-up job yourself. All you and your partner have managed to do is harass me while spewing out theories. If you were so sure who was behind all of this, why didn't you do something about it?”

His features turned to stone. “It doesn't work like that, and you damn well know it.”

“Yeah. We're dealing with someone who isn't bound by the same laws and procedures you are. Why can't
you
understand that?”

He glared, but didn't answer.

Kennedy shook her head. “You can't protect me from everyone on these streets. The gangs have their own laws. I would have thought that you'd have learned that by now.”

He turned from her then, his hands gripping the steering wheel, but he made no attempt to start the car.

“You know I'm right. If I'd pointed the finger at the murderer, I would have been dead inside of twenty-four hours.”

“He wants you dead now. What's the difference?”

“The difference is that doing it my way might save my son.”

Max leaned back against his headrest. “So, Lawrence
does
have him?”

Her lips trembled when she answered. “My son and my grandmother are in danger.”

He exhaled a long, frustrated sigh. “If you do what
you're planning, he's just going to kill all three of you.”

She knew that, but it didn't stop a new wave of tears from spilling over her lashes. “There may be a chance—”

“There's no chance.”

The profound silence that followed echoed with the crushing truth of Max's words.

“So, they're already dead then,” Kennedy whispered. Devastated, she turned toward him, and he gently gathered her into his arms as her body quaked with despair.