Defenseless (8 page)

“Daddy!”

D
wayne sat on the edge of his bed and stared at his shaking hands. He could still feel Shock G.'s neck between his fingers. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so angry. When he saw George's arms laced possessively around his baby, he wanted to tear the boy from limb to limb. Even now, he wondered if he should have let the boy go. He could tell George was relieved, by the way he stumbled over the furniture on the way out of the house.

Dwayne ordered Bridget to her room with the promise that he would deal with her later. Right now, it was in her best interest to let him calm down.
Where did I go wrong? Am I doing such a bad job of raising her?

He reflected on his discipline tactics in the past years, and felt he had been both fair and lenient. He couldn't remember whether he gave his parents as much grief when he was a teenager. If so, he wished he could apologize.

They weren't able to see their granddaughter, but he knew that they would be proud of her. His parents had both passed away by the time he entered his first year of college. He wished he could seek some parental advice from his mother on how to handle Bridget.

Dwayne glanced at Theresa's picture that sat on his nightstand. He missed her. He missed her warm laughter and kind heart. He picked up the small silver frame and traced his finger along the sharp edges.
How would she handle this situation?

Dwayne studied her light brown eyes and gentle smile and felt a dull ache in his chest. Lying back on his bed, still holding the frame, he remembered the day his dreams came to a crashing halt….

 

“Theresa, are you all right?” Dwayne demanded, while he banged on the bathroom door. She had been in there for thirty minutes, and he could hear her soft sobs through the door. “Theresa, sweetheart, please let me in,” he pleaded. There was a long silence before he heard the lock turn.

When he saw the redness of her eyes and nose, he instantly drew her to him. He held her for a long time, as her tears drenched his shirt.

Theresa drew herself away from her husband and forced a smile for his benefit as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

Dwayne gently reached up and began stroking her long hair. “Are you okay?” he asked, looking into her eyes.

She avoided his eyes and nodded.

“Come here,” he instructed her. He took her by the hand and pulled her into their bedroom. She sat down on the bed, while Dwayne kneeled down in front of her and took her delicate hands into his own.

“Theresa, please tell me what happened at the doctor's office today.”

Again there was an unnerving silence that hung in the air between them. When she at last was ready to speak, she lifted her chin and held Dwayne's gaze. “I've been diagnosed with breast cancer.”

Dwayne felt the force of her words and exactly what they meant. He wanted desperately for her to take them back, to say that it wasn't true.
Cancer? She couldn't have cancer. She was too young. She was only twenty-two. They had their whole life ahead of them.
“We'll get a second opinion,” Dwayne stammered.

“That was the third doctor I've seen. I couldn't tell you until I was sure.”

“How far along?”

“It's serious, Dwayne. I found out too late.”

Dwayne thought of their two-year-old daughter who lay sleeping in her bed. He thought about how Theresa had sacrificed her medical studies to send him through law school. He was a second-year student. When he was able, he'd planned to send her back to med school. He thought of their plans together and felt them all slipping away. “We'll get through this,” he said as tears gathered in his eyes.

“Of course we will,” she said, hugging him close to her. It was her turn to comfort him.

Dwayne wanted desperately for there to be a mistake. His tears shook his entire body as he held on to his wife.

Theresa fought for as long as she could, but the disease proved to be too much for her. She died a year later.

 

Dwayne knocked lightly on Bridget's door. “Bridget, let me in.”

“Go away!” she screamed.

Dwayne took a deep breath and tried again. “Bridget, please open up.” After a brief moment, Bridget unlocked the door.

“Are you going to start yelling again?” she asked.

Dwayne noticed her red eyes. “No,” he answered gently.

She allowed him entrance. Dwayne avoided stepping on the large piles of clothes spread throughout her floor. Posters of her favorite rap artists hung from every wall, as well as famous basketball stars.

Dwayne took a seat on the edge of her bed and hoped that he hadn't crushed anything valuable. “Have a seat,” he directed, patting the spot next to him.

Bridget plopped next to her father and avoided making eye contact. Dwayne leaned over and took her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look at him.

“My beautiful little girl.” He brushed a lock of curls from her face. “Why do you want to grow up so fast?”

She pulled her chin away and looked down at her braided fingers.

“Bridget, I want to understand what's wrong. Maybe you can help me. All I know is, in the past year, you've got it in your head that you're going to do what you want to do, when you want to do it. I can't have that. There's only room for one adult in this house—and that's me. Some of the things you pull, you know better. The rules of this house haven't changed. I expect your homework and chores done without me having to follow up behind you. Lately all you think about are boys, boys, boys—”

“Daddy, you don't understand,” Bridget interrupted.

“I do understand. I was a boy once, you know. I'm here to tell you—those boys want one thing and one thing only.”

“Nothing happened, Daddy,” Bridget said matter-of-factly.

Dwayne's shoulders slumped in relief. “What would have happened if I didn't come home?”

“Nothing. Don't you trust me?” Bridget frowned.

“Of course I trust you. It's those street thugs I don't trust.”

Bridget rolled her eyes at her father and looked as if she was bored by his logic.

Dwayne counted to ten before he spoke again. Bridget was normally a sweet girl, but since she turned sixteen, she acted as if she knew everything. “Bridget, you're a pretty girl. You remind me so much of your mother. I'm trying to raise you to have more pride in yourself. I know you're young, but you're not that young. You're a lady, and you should demand respect for who you are.”

Dwayne took another moment before he spoke again. “Don't let anyone dictate to you that you deserve nothing less than the best. You're too smart for that. I want my daughter to have the best of everything. I made that promise to your mother a long time ago, and it's a promise I intend to keep.”

By the way Bridget began to hold herself upright, Dwayne knew his words were getting through. He placed a kiss on his daughter's forehead, then stood up from the bed. “Please feel like you can come to me or Aunt Sharon when something is troubling you.”

Bridget gave him a brief smile, then he turned to leave the room. “Oh, about this afternoon. You know you're grounded, right?”

Bridget's smile faded. “Of course.”

L
aura stepped from her bath water wrapped in a fluffy pink towel. She felt better today yet she wasn't sure about facing the world so soon. However, she was grateful that Sonya's estate separated her from the real world, even if it was for only a little while. Laura walked into the accompanying bedroom as she dried herself.

There were so many things she wanted to get accomplished today. First, she wanted to contact Mr. Hamilton. She hadn't been very cooperative since this whole ordeal began, but today she wanted to start helping with her own defense. She wasn't looking forward to returning to jail. Laura hated having to lean on her sister for help. In her heart, she truly loved Sonya and knew, for the most part, she was only trying to help. Yet sometimes she didn't want Sonya to interfere so much. However, she did realize—had she listened to Sonya—she wouldn't be in this predicament.

Laura reflected on the many arguments between her and Sonya over the past years. She hated to admit it, but Sonya had been right most of the time. Sonya'd warned her about dropping out of college to marry Curtis. Laura's eyes swept across the beautifully decorated room and she felt a sense of pride for her sister. Laura often wondered what she could have achieved had she stayed in school.

Throughout her academic career, she had also made good grades, but she lacked the determination to succeed that drove Sonya. Her sister had desperately wanted to make it out of Techwood, a housing project in downtown Atlanta. If she could just do it all again, there would be so many things that she would change. If she only knew then what she knew now. But hindsight is always twenty-twenty, she thought. Right now she wanted to concentrate on her future.

Laura slipped into a pair of white shorts and matching T-shirt. When she turned around to leave, she released a startled gasp at seeing a large man dominating the doorway. “Richard, what are you doing here?”

 

An excited Anthony Payne burst through Dwayne's office door, waving a small sheaf of papers in front of him. “I think I've got something,” he boasted confidently as he dropped the loose papers on Dwayne's desk.

“What is it?” Dwayne leaned back in his chair.

“Richard Durden.”

“What about him?” Dwayne asked, watching the younger man take a seat.

“He doesn't exist,” Anthony said, also leaning back in his chair, momentarily frightened of tipping over.

Dwayne shook his head at his overzealous assistant, who unfortunately was touched with a bit of clumsiness. “What do you mean, he doesn't exist? I met the man at his brother's funeral.”

“Then you met an impostor.”

“So are you going to tell me what you mean, or are we going to play twenty questions?” Dwayne asked, a little irritated.

“Well, according to this background check, Curtis was born to one Patricia and Jeremy Durden. His mother gave birth when she was just fifteen years old. His father was a young gang member who didn't live to see his twenties.”

“And?” Dwayne rolled his hand, wanting him to speed up the story.

“And,” Anthony continued, “due to a series of complications in her pregnancy, Patricia was unable to have any more children.”

Dwayne leaned forward with that information. “What are you saying?”

“I'm saying according to my research, Curtis was an only child.” Anthony leaned back farther in his chair. This time he did capsize, sending his tall body across the emerald carpet.

Dwayne shook his head at his assistant, who immediately sprang from the floor as if he intended to fall on his face. “Are you all right?” Dwayne asked in mock concern.

“Of course, sir,” he answered, clearing his throat. He never once showed his embarrassment.

Dwayne shuffled through the papers sprawled across his desk until he found what he was looking for. “According to this, it was Richard Durden who identified Curtis's body.”

Anthony shrugged his shoulders. “You're positive Miss Walters said Richard was Curtis's brother? Perhaps he was a cousin or something.”

“No, she definitely said brother. This report also lists him as a brother.” Dwayne picked up his phone to call Sonya, but before he could dial, Anthony's hand stopped him. “There's more.”

 

Tina buzzed in over the small intercom. “Miss Walters, there's a Mr. Hamilton here to see you.”

“Show him in.” Sonya quickly refreshed her lipstick and checked her hair to make sure the pins still held it in a perfect French roll. By the time Dwayne entered the room, Sonya had picked up her pen and pretended to be engrossed with her work.

“Miss Walters?” Tina interrupted.

Sonya glanced up and placed her pen down on the desk. “Mr. Hamilton, won't you have a seat?” She gestured to one of the vacant chairs in front of her desk.

Tina smiled seductively at Dwayne and left the room, unaware of Sonya's intense gaze on her retreating figure.

Dwayne took a seat and cleared his throat. “Miss Walters, I apologize for showing up on such short notice, but we've just discovered some disturbing news.”

Sonya took a deep breath. “Is it about Curtis?”

Dwayne nodded. “I found out through my assistant, Anthony, your sister's husband had an interesting occupation. He was, as we say, a representative for a pharmaceutical company?”

Sonya knew what she was about to say would start an argument, so she braced herself. “I know Curtis was a drug dealer,” she said softly.

Dwayne's jaw clamped shut. Sonya could see the tiny muscles along his jawline twitch in obvious frustration. He silently unbuttoned his gray jacket and loosened his tie. “Do you want to tell me how something like that just slipped your mind?”

He had every right to be angry, Sonya told herself. “I didn't think it was important at the time.”

“How could you have possibly thought that? That bit of information opens up a new avenue of suspects,” he reasoned.

Sonya nodded in agreement.

“You have nothing else to say?” Dwayne asked, staring at her.

“I was wrong not to have mentioned it,” Sonya admitted.

Dwayne took a deep breath and glanced up at the ceiling as if he were looking for help from a higher power. “Is there something else you're hiding from me? Anything else you don't consider important?”

Sonya shifted in her chair. “No,” she answered with a great deal of patience.

“Good. But I warn you, if I find any more surprises, I'm dropping this case. Understand?” Dwayne informed as he held Sonya's gaze.

Sonya nodded, hating his parental tone.

“Anthony has also brought another disturbing matter to my attention. I had a background check done on Curtis. I've discovered that Curtis Durden's parents are both dead—”

“I knew that,” Sonya cut in.

“Let me finish,” Dwayne instructed her patiently. “As a child, Curtis bounced back and forth through our wonderful judicial system. He went from one foster home to another.”

“Explains a lot,” Sonya commented.

Dwayne nodded. “At fifteen he had his first brush with the police. He was charged with burglary.”

Sonya absently twirled the gold coin around her neck while deep in thought. “So you're telling me it wasn't Curtis's fault he was a jerk.”

“No. But maybe he got caught up in the system,” Dwayne reasoned.

Sonya rolled her eyes at his explanation.

“But that's not all. We were unable to come up with any record of a Richard Durden.”

Sonya stopped twirling her necklace. “No record?”

Dwayne stood up from his chair and began to pace across the floor. “So you're as shocked as I am?”

Sonya's mind raced a mile a minute. “Then who is the man that's been living under my roof for the past week?”

“I haven't the slightest idea. Not only that, this Richard identified Curtis's body, according to the police reports.”

Sonya placed her fingers to her temples. What Dwayne was saying wasn't making any sense.

“Is this man still at your home?” Dwayne asked, straightening his jacket.

Sonya came out of her chair. “Laura!”

Sonya snatched up the phone to dial home. If this man wasn't who he said he was, then she wanted Laura away from him. The phone continued to ring. Sonya gave Dwayne a worried glance.
Why isn't she answering the phone?
The answering machine picked up on the fifth ring, and Sonya slammed down the phone.
Something's wrong.
“I have to get over there.” Sonya grabbed her purse.

“Maybe she's at a friend's house,” Dwayne reasoned.

Sonya paused at the door. “Laura hasn't left the house since she was released from jail,” she answered.

“Then I'll come with you.” Dwayne followed her out her office door. Racing down the small aisles of cubicles, Sonya saw the curious stares from her employees as she passed by. They reached the elevator bay and waited impatiently for one to arrive. Sonya tried to convince herself Laura wasn't in any danger, but she failed miserably.

When the elevator arrived, both Dwayne and Sonya rushed in. She glanced at Dwayne once and noticed the genuine concern. They reached the lobby and flew across the hard marbled floor. Outside, Dwayne grabbed her hand. “We'll take my car.”

Sonya looked quizzically at him.

“You're not exactly a safe driver under stressful conditions,” he explained.

Sonya gave no argument as she ran along with him, giving no thought to her three-inch pumps as she kept up with Dwayne's pace.

Dwayne pulled out his keys and pushed the small button to disengage the alarm system. He jumped into a black Porsche, leaned over and unlocked the passenger's side.

In the next moment, Sonya searched desperately for her seat belt. Dwayne sped around corners and changed lanes like a madman. A few times, Sonya cringed when he came entirely too close to another vehicle.
He thought I was a reckless driver?
She was relieved when they reached the highway. There weren't too many cars for her to worry about.

They arrived at Sonya's house in record time. Sonya bolted for the door, and quickly turned off the alarm. Dwayne entered right behind her. “Laura!” they both screamed in unison. No answer.

“I'll check upstairs,” Sonya said, racing up the long spiral staircase.

Sonya darted in and out of the six bedrooms, frantically searching for Laura. Each room was empty. Dwayne's thundering voice caused her to rush back to the staircase.

“I found a note,” he said, waving a thin piece of paper.

Sonya flew downstairs. Fear gripped her heart as Dwayne handed her the letter.