Buying Time (31 page)

“I’ll handle it,” Becker said.

“Make sure you do,” Erickson said, and slammed down the phone.

W
averly pounded the steering wheel in frustration.

He had to find a way to convince Britney that her life could be in danger. He thought about proceeding to her place anyway, but that would only freak her out. He drove toward home, racking his mind for a solution.

He pressed the remote on his sun visor and pulled his Lexus into the garage. He felt like going for a long drive, but was too mentally exhausted for such an excursion. He wouldn’t have such an option much longer. With money tight, his Lexus would be the first thing to go.

As he closed the garage door and entered the house through the kitchen, something stopped him the moment he stepped inside. Someone else was there. He could sense their presence. Smell their scent. Had Rico or one of his henchmen come after him?

Waverly stepped back into the garage, his legs unsteady. What should he do? Call the police? And say what?
The guy I was laundering money for came to my house to kill me.

He looked around, scanning the garage shelves in search of a weapon. He spotted a hammer hanging on a hook and grabbed it.

Waverly cautiously stuck his head back into the kitchen. “Get out of my house!” he yelled. “I have a gun.” Until now, he thought guns were dangerous weapons that could do more harm than good. Now he wished he had one.

He waited, listening for movement. He finally took several more steps inside, each one filled with trepidation. He looked to his left into the family room and his mouth fell open.

Someone had left a message for him in red spray paint on the wall above the couch.

Get me my money. Deidra is next.

Furious, Waverly tore through the rest of the house, hammer in hand, peeking into rooms, opening doors, checking around corners. When he was certain that the intruder had gone, he pulled out his BlackBerry and dialed Deidra’s cell phone.

“You have to call me back right away,” he said. “I need to know that you’re alright.”

He wondered if Deidra had heeded his warning to leave town. He would not be able to relax until he knew she was okay. He waited thirty long, nerve-racking minutes. As much as he hated having to face Leon Barrett, he couldn’t rest not knowing whether his wife was safe. He went back to the garage and started up his car.

It was only a two-mile drive to his in-laws’ home. He screeched into the driveway and jumped out.

Leon Barrett opened the front door before he could ring the bell. “You’re not wanted here,” he said.

“I don’t plan to stay. Where’s Deidra? Is she okay?”

“Son, you’re a disgrace. You know that? People like you give the law profession a bad name. You—”

“I didn’t come here for a lecture, Leon,” Waverly said, trying to keep his cool. “Where’s Deidra?”

“She’s not here.”

“Is she okay?”

“You should’ve been thinking about that when you decided to start ripping off dying people. You—”

“I just need to make sure Deidra’s okay,” Waverly said. “Where is she?”

“I don’t think she wants you to know that.”

“Did she leave town like I asked?”

Leon’s eyebrows fused together. “You asked her to leave town? What kind of stuff are you mixed up in, boy?”

Waverly was glad that Deidra hadn’t shared his request with her father and wished he hadn’t either. He stepped forward until his chest almost touched Leon’s nose. “Just tell me whether she went away, damn it!”

Leon backed away. “She’s at Martha’s Vineyard with her mother and sister. Went there a few days ago.”

Waverly’s heart rate finally slowed a few beats. He turned and headed back to his car.

“I don’t want to see you around here again,” Leon shouted after him.

Waverly tuned out Leon’s words, climbed into his Lexus and backed out of the driveway.

He was still worried about Britney’s safety. For all he knew, Rico could be someplace right now plotting to kill her or any one of his clients. Thankfully, he had not made a personal connection with any of his other clients. Did that mean he didn’t have an ethical obligation to let them know that their lives might be in danger? No. He needed to call every single one of them, not just Britney, and tell them they might be a target for murder. But how would that look to a jury of his peers?

“Shit!” He pounded the steering wheel again.

Waverly could not sit back and let something happen to Britney. He would just have to convince her that she was in danger and help her find a safe place to hide. He would figure out what to do about his other clients later.

He pulled over to the curb and popped open his briefcase. He looked up Britney’s address and punched it into his navigation system.

Waverly was determined to make sure Britney was safe. Whether she wanted his protection or not.

A
ngela found it next to impossible to concentrate at work. She had just walked out of a meeting, but couldn’t remember half of what had been discussed.

She plopped down behind her desk and massaged the back of her neck. Her life had gone from bliss to anguish in a matter of days. At least Cornell had finally stopped calling. She assumed the conversation she’d had with his best friend, Rupert Byrdsong, had worked.

“I need you to talk to Cornell,” Angela had begun. “He’s basically been stalking me.”

Rupert didn’t say anything for a while. “Is it true?” he finally asked. “Are you dating a convicted drug dealer?” A partner at Byrdsong, Ivy, McNeil and Wyatt, Rupert was a major mover and shaker in L.A. Just the kind of guy Cornell liked to rub shoulders with. Angela and Cornell had frequently doubled-dated with Rupert and his wife.

“Whoever I’m dating is nobody’s business,” Angela snapped. “I just need you to convey a message to him because he doesn’t seem to hear it when I tell him. The only reason I haven’t reported him to the police is because I don’t want to destroy his career. But if he ever comes near me again, I will.”

“Cornell is pretty broken up,” Rupert said. “He’s not himself. Apparently you aren’t either.”

“I’m just fine. If you care about your friend, you’ll deliver my message.”

Angela’s assistant walked in and handed her a package. Angela knew what was inside without even opening it. She waited until the door closed before pulling out Dre’s file from his state court case.

She rifled through it until she found his rap sheet. There was only one arrest and one conviction.
California Health and Safety Code Section 11351.5, possession or purchase for sale of cocaine base.
At least he wasn’t a career criminal.

So far, everything Dre had told her was the truth. There was even mention of his degree from Long Beach State. Angela closed her eyes and pressed two fingers to both of her temples. She couldn’t believe she was actually trying to justify what Dre did, or used to do, for a living. But she couldn’t deny how much she missed him and wanted him in her life.

She rested her head on her desk, cushioning it in the crook of her arm. When she looked up, Zack was standing over her desk.

“You okay?”

Zack’s eyes surveyed her desk. Angela quickly closed Dre’s file and slipped it back into the envelope.

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “What’s up?”

Zack looked uncomfortable and she knew why. She’d heard that he was moving to D.C. and taking a job on Erickson’s staff. He was selling out and she was going to tell him as much.

“I’ll just blurt it out,” Zack finally said. “You need to know that there are a lot of rumors floating around the office.”

“Rumors about what?”

“About you and Cornell.”

Angela held up her ringless left hand and waved it back and forth. “Yes, my engagement is off. If that’s all people have to talk about, so be it.”

“It’s not just that. A maintenance guy told one of the secretar-ies that Cornell attacked you in your office last week.”

Angela stiffened. The man had been nice enough to escort her all the way to her car. He had also promised not to mention the incident to anyone.

“That’s not true,” she lied. “We had a disagreement and we both got a little loud. That was it.”

“I just thought you should know. And there’s something else—”

“Zack, I don’t want to discuss Cornell with you or anybody else. Okay?” The people in her office were nothing but gossips. The lawyers were worse than the secretaries.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, but I just wanted to tell you that—”

“I said I don’t want to know, Zack.” Angela stood up and picked up her purse from the desk. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I was just about to leave.”

Shortly after seven, Angela pulled into the underground garage of her building, turned off the engine and removed the key. Her car was in the shop for a tune-up so she was driving her sister’s Mazda.

Angela was always careful now to survey her surroundings before exiting the car. She noticed a young woman headed for the stairwell. Angela had just opened the door and planted her left foot on the ground when Cornell seemed to appear from nowhere.

She screamed and tried to close the door, but Cornell lunged forward, snatching it open.

“I just want to talk.” Cornell gripped the door with his left hand and extended the palm of his right toward her. “Just relax. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

“We don’t have a damn thing to talk about. You need to get it into your head that our relationship is over.” She tried to close the door, but Cornell had a firm grasp.

As she stared up at him, she felt like a fool for ever feeling sorry for him. Jada was right. She should have called the police the first time he put his hands on her. She had prosecuted enough domestic violence cases to know better. Men who battered women were fueled by jealousy and insecurity. They lacked the ability to think or act rationally. To hell with Cornell’s career. As soon as she made it to her apartment, she planned to call the cops. Tomorrow morning, she would get a restraining order.

“I took care of you for three years. Don’t you at least owe me a few minutes of your time?”

“You didn’t take of care me. I took care of myself.” Angela immediately regretted her retort. It wasn’t smart to risk angering him further.

Leaning sideways, she felt around on the floor. She couldn’t remember whether her sister had taken the gun when Angela dropped her off at the beauty shop that morning. She prayed it was there. When she felt the soft velvet and the hard lump underneath, a torrent of relief followed. She slipped the .38 out of its pouch and into the pocket of her jacket.

“If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police,” she threatened, although her BlackBerry was out of reach, buried in her purse.

“The police? Really? Maybe you should call your drug dealer boyfriend instead.”

Her right hand clutched the .38. Angela had never fired a gun before, but she was more than ready to learn on the job. Maybe it was better to just keep him talking until another car entered the garage. She looked past him to where the woman had been, but saw no one.
Where in the hell is the security guard?

“C’mon,” Cornell said. “Let’s go up to your place so we can talk.” He pulled the door open even wider.

The man was truly delusional if he thought he was getting anywhere near her apartment. “I already told you. I don’t want to talk to you. Now leave me alone!”

Angela tugged hard on the door and almost closed it, but Cornell pulled it open again. She was just about to lean on the horn when Cornell’s demeanor abruptly changed.

“Okay, okay, don’t overreact. If you want me to leave, I will.” He let go of the door and took a step back. “Go on up to your apartment. I won’t bother you.”

Angela wasn’t buying it. She put the key back in the ignition, but when she tried to close the car door, Cornell charged forward, reached over the window, grabbed her arm and snatched her from the car.

He shut the door, then backhanded her across the face. Blood splattered from her nose, spotting Cornell’s grey suit.

“You bitch! Who do you think you are?”

Pinning her arms at her side, he banged her body against the hood of the car. He reeked of alcohol.

“Maybe you like it better when I act like a thug.” He leaned in and roughly kissed her.

Angela swung her head from side to side and tried to pull away. When she screamed, Cornell fastened his hand around her neck. He squeezed for several seconds, then let go.

“I could kill you right now if I wanted to,” he said. “And if you scream again, I will.”

As hard as she tried, the fearless facade she so desperately wanted to maintain shattered. Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She tried to retrieve the gun from her pocket, but Cornell had her right arm locked at her side.

“Oh, so now you want to cry. I bet you weren’t crying when you were out cheating on me.” He let go of her arm and backhanded her across the face again. Another gush of blood spewed from her nose.

“Does that thug fuck you better than me?”

She turned away as the right side of her face went numb. Cornell pulled her toward him, then slammed her back against the car again.

Excruciating pain radiated down her back, but the crazed look in his eyes frightened her far more than the blows to her body. The look told her that she would not leave the garage alive.

“Answer me, bitch! Who fucks you the best?”

“You,” Angela finally sputtered.

When Cornell reared back to slap her again, Angela slid her right hand into her pocket and pulled out the gun. In one quick move, she jammed it into his stomach.

“Get away from me or I’ll blow your goddamn guts out!” Angela screamed.

Cornell staggered sideways, his bravado gone. It took him only seconds though, to regain it. “I thought you were afraid of guns.” He was laughing now. “Is that a present from that ex-con you’re fucking?”

Angela took baby steps to her left, trying to make it back inside the car. Her hand was wobbling so violently she feared she might drop the gun. She reached behind her back with her left hand to open the door. She was about to climb inside when Cornell charged at her. He grabbed her wrist, forced the gun downward, and pulled her away from the car.