Dark Corner (11 page)

But now, he had met Nia.

He was a practical guy. He wrote goals in a journal, and
executed them. He never attempted anything of importance
without thinking it through from beginning to end. He liked
an orderly-even predictable life, in which he could main tain control at all times. When he had come to Mason's
Corner, the possibility of meeting a woman had never
crossed his thoughts.

But now, Nia.

Although he had known her for only a day, he could not
deny the sense of rightness that he felt in her company. Was
it love at first sight? He hesitated to slap a cliched label like
that on it. But it was something special, something worth
growing and exploring.

Nia was watching him. He had the feeling that she knew
exactly what he was thinking, and instead of making him
nervous, he felt warm, accepted.

"I want to tell you why I left Houston and came back
home," Nia said.

He put down his fork. "Okay. If you feel comfortable
sharing that with me "

"I do," she said firmly, as though reaffirming it to herself.
"In Houston, I was stalked."

He listened. She would share the story at her own pace.

"This happened after my knee injury forced me to stop
running track," she said. "I was teaching at a high school.
One of my colleagues, Mr. Morgan, a math teacher, asked
me out on a date. He was a good-looking guy, in his thirties,
never married, and he seemed really nice, intelligent, and
thoughtful. So I went out with him.

"Talk about the date from hell. The minute he picked me
up, he started talking about all of our colleagues. He had
strong, negative views of everyone. Mr. So-and-So is a homosexual, he'd say, and we should keep him away from the
boys in his class. Ms. This-or-That is a bitch and always has
been, and I can't wait until she leaves. He went on and on
like that throughout dinner. He was a totally different person
in private than he was at school.

"Our plan was to catch a movie after dinner, but I already
had a headache from listening to his nasty attitude. I told
him I had to get in early to grade some papers, and asked him to drop me off. He drove me back to my place, and he
made a couple comments about how I was rude for ending
our date early. I let it pass. I only wanted to get away from
him. But I could've given him a piece of my mind, because if
anyone had been rude, it was him.

"The harassment started the following week. He asked
me when we could get together again, and I said I was busy.
`Then when is your schedule open?' he said. I told him I didn't know, hoping he'd get the hint. He didn't.

"He started to leave vulgar notes in my mailbox. Stuff
like, `Baby, can I have a private tutoring session with you?'
and `You're too damn sexy to be teaching here, you're gonna
make me lose my mind.' He never signed these notes, but I
knew it was him. No one else had any reason to write them.
The messages got cruder and more frequent. I complained to
the principal, and she said she was going to talk to Mr.
Morgan. She took my complaint seriously, which was something I'd worried about. I thought my complaint might be
laughed off. But apparently, this wasn't the first time that
this guy had done something like this. He'd been forced to
leave his last teaching position because of the same kind of
thing.

"But the principal must not have been all that frightening
to Mr. Morgan, because he stepped up his harassment. He
called my place at all hours of the night, never saying anything, just breathing hard on the phone. He'd leave a rose
under the windshield wiper of my car. And he started showing up at the gym where I worked out. He'd find a spot where
he could watch me run around the track, and he would stare
at me the entire time.

"I finally confronted him and told him that I wanted him
to leave me alone, or I was going to call the police. He
laughed it off and acted like I was the one tripping. `I only
want to spend time with you, get to know you better,' he said.
`I'm a good man, and I want to prove it to you.' He wasn't worried about my threat to go to the cops. Maybe he didn't
believe me, maybe he didn't care. I don't know what he was
thinking, really.

"This harassment went on for weeks. Then, one night I
came home and found that someone had been in my apartment. Clothes were all over the place, but my lingerie was
missing. I knew who'd done it, though I had no idea how he
got into my place. He had a sick, cunning mind.

"I was scared to death then. I called the police. They
talked to him and warned him to stay away from me, and
they gave me advice on how to handle the situation. I hoped
they'd thrown a scare into him. They hadn't. He only got
worse. He called more frequently, he followed me to and
from work, and tailed me when I ran errands. There was no
escape from him. He promised me that I would be his, no
matter how long it took.

"I was a nervous wreck. I was afraid to leave the house,
pick up the phone-to do anything. Mr. Morgan was everywhere, like he had cloned himself a dozen times. I called the
police again, and I got a restraining order. Instead of cooling
him off, it drove him over the edge.

"When I was alone in the teacher's lounge one afternoon,
he assaulted me. I've always been a fitness nut, trying out
new sports, and when I was in college I'd started learning tae
kwon do and had gotten as far as a blue belt. The training
came in handy, and it probably helped, too, that Mr. Morgan
isn't that much bigger than I am. He's about five-nine and
pretty lean, and I'm five-seven. Anyway, we tangled in there,
and I busted his lip. It might've gone further if a couple
other teachers hadn't walked into the room. Mr. Morgan ran
out, and I called the cops again.

"Now, you'd think that after I had kicked his butt, he'd
leave me alone, right? Nope. First of all, the cops didn't find
him at home. They couldn't find him anywhere. That night, I
stayed at a friend's house, 'cause I was afraid to go to my place alone. She lived with her boyfriend, so there were three
of us there, and she had a rottweiler, too. I thought I would
be safe, if only for that night.

"Late, around one in the morning, Mr. Morgan broke into
the house. He had a gun this time. He shot my friend's dog,
then he pistol-whipped my friend's fiance. I heard all of this
happening while I was in the guest bedroom, and let me tell
you, never in my life have I been so scared. I pushed the
dresser against the door and hid in the closet. Mr. Morgan
tried to break down the door, and he kept chanting `Going to
get my baby, Nia; she belongs to me. Nia's all mine, all
mine, all mine.' He had gone crazy. I was convinced that he
would break in and blow me away. I was praying just as
much as he was chanting.

"The police got there before Mr. Morgan could get me.
He gave himself up peacefully. He was sentenced to two
years in prison for assault and other charges"

"Only two years?" David said. "That guy was going to
kill you!"

She smiled bitterly. "He could get paroled sooner, for
good behavior."

"That's crazy," he said. "Damn, I'm so sorry you had to
go through something like that"

"I had to leave Houston," she said. "I used to love the city,
but it held too many painful memories for me. Even though
Mr. Morgan was in prison, I imagined that I saw his face
everywhere I went. I had nightmares-and still do sometimes-about him escaping and coming to finish me off.
Mama asked me to come back home. It didn't take much
convincing on her part. I was ready to live in a place where I
felt safe"

"And this Morgan guy is still in jail, right?"

"He's been locked up for a little over a year. But like I
said, he could get out early. I'm praying that whenever he's released, he won't come after me. I hope he forgets about me"

"You think he could find you here?"

Her eyes were haunted. "Definitely. He's slick, smart. He
could track me down. Some women who've been stalked have
actually needed to change their names and move far away, to
where no one knows them like they're in a witness protection
program. But I never want to do that. I can't leave behind
everything I know and love."

He reached across the table and took her hands in his. Her
skin was cool, her palms moist, and he realized how much
reliving her terror had shaken her.

"I picked up tae kwon do again, after I moved back
home," she said. "I take classes at a dojo in Memphis. I've
got a black belt now. I've bought a gun, too. And I know how
to use it. If Mr. Morgan comes again, I'll be ready for him."

"You've got another weapon, too," he said.

"What's that?"

"Me. I'm not letting anything happen to you. You've got a
bodyguard, girl."

She smiled, squeezed his hands. "You're so sweet. How
did I ever meet such a nice guy at the park in little, boring
Mason's Corner?"

The words came out of him before he could think about
the meaning of what he was saying.

"Maybe it was destiny."

Andre pulled up in his car at ten minutes past nine o'clock.

Junior had been sitting on the rickety front steps of the
trailer. He had been fidgeting, restlessly counting the stars in
the clear night sky. He never liked to show up late for a job.
Andre was supposed to pick him up at a quarter to nine, and
as the minutes ticked away, Junior grew more agitated. The
bald-headed, rich man in the Lexus was offering them good
money for a few hours' work, and they were going to blow it
by showing up late. What if the guy hired someone else?
They'd miss out on all that money.

At times like this, Junior felt an aching need for his own
pickup truck. With his own ride, he'd never arrive late to
work, anywhere.

When Andre arrived in his battered white Chevy, Junior
raced to the car.

"Man, we're late!" Junior hustled inside. "We was s'posed to be up there at nine. It's ten minutes after!"

"Chill out, cuz," Andre said. A toothpick dangled from
his lips. From the pungent smell inside the car, Junior could
tell that Andre had been smoking, and not cigarettes, either.
Andre had that lazy look in his eyes that let Junior know his
cousin was as high as a kite.

"You been smokin'," Junior said. "We got to be ready to
work, Andre"

Swiveling the steering wheel with one hand, Andre made
a dismissive motion. "You worry too much, cuz. It's cool."

"That man's gonna be mad that we late," Junior said.
Andre cruised, slowly, and Junior gritted his teeth. With the
passing of each minute, he could feel dollar bills slipping
out of his fingers.

"What I wanna know is," Andre said, "what this cat gonna
have us diggin' up? I told you they say the Mason crib is
haunted."

"I don't know," Junior said. He had avoided thinking
about the scary tales of the Mason place, preferring to focus
on the money he was going to earn.

"I been asking around 'bout that cat," Andre said. "I
heard he was from France; that's why he got that funny accent"

"Oh," Junior said. He didn't know exactly where France
was, only that it was far away and that he'd never go there.
Not unless they had some good-paying jobs he could do that
would be worth the trip.

"It just don't make any damn sense. A nigga from France
living in that big-assed, haunted crib, and now he want us to
do some digging-at night. I got a bad feeling about it, cuz"

"We gotta go, Andre. That's a lot of money-"

"I know, you wanna make some money. I need the money
too, that's the only reason I'm going with you. My girl's
been on my case 'bout working a job"

They drove up the steep country road that led to the Mason
house. Junior hadn't been up here in ... well, he couldn't remember the last time. No one lived up this way, so there was
no reason for him to ever swing through this part of town.

The mansion came into view. It sat far back from the
road, up on a peak. Soft lights gleamed through the windows.

A tall, wrought-iron gate restricted access to the long dirt
lane that led to the house. Andre parked in front of the entrance.

They got out of the car. Towering trees, cloaked in darkness, flanked the fence. A cool breeze whistled through the
branches.

Other than the wind, the night was silent, as though they
stood on a hill at the top of the world.

Andre approached the gate. "Damn, this place is creepy
as hell."

Junior ignored Andre. He peered through the fence bars,
looking for the black Frenchman. "We too late. I bet he left
us and got someone else. We ain't gonna make any money."

"Stop tripping." Andre banged the gate with his fist. It
creaked open on rusty hinges. "Come on"

Junior followed Andre inside. Across the lawn, a moving
shadow appeared.

"Gentlemen!" It was the Frenchman. He shined a flashlight in their direction. "Only the two of you have come?"

"Yeah," Andre said. "We didn't bring nobody else."

"We apologize for being late, mister," Junior said.

"That is acceptable," the man said. "My name is Mamu-
walde."

"Mamma-what?" Andre said.

"Simply call me Mamu," he said, as if annoyed.

Mamu, Junior thought. Figured he'd have a crazy name
like that.

The fella had changed into a new suit, too, Junior noticed.
This one was navy blue, just as sharp as the other one. The
guy probably had a closetful of nice clothes.

Mamu gave them a once-over. "I earnestly hope that you
are prepared to work, gentlemen, and to work hard. We have
a great deal of labor ahead of us tonight."

"Diggin' for what?" Andre said.

Mamu only smiled. "We are behind schedule. Follow me,
please."

Andre mumbled something under his breath, but he followed. Junior followed his cousin.

They walked toward the mansion, but as they got closer,
Mamu cut a path along the side. Junior realized that they
weren't going inside the house. They were going somewhere
else on the property.