Under Abnormal Conditions (26 page)

“That depends on whether or not you are going
to arrest me.” I started explaining the situation as I came to know
it. Soon after, the EMT’s arrived to treat Stone. They came over to
check Williams out as well. He removed his shirt, revealing his
bulletproof vest.

“I am going to need you to write a statement
for me,” he grunted.

As I started explaining, he noticed a
dime-sized dot of blood had started weeping through my shirt. I
tried my best to finish telling the detective what I knew, as the
EMT’s finished patching up my shoulder. He seemed to understand,
but everything was so confusing, I’m not sure I understood it
myself. I was just glad it was over.

Chapter 41

For the next few weeks the news was saturated
with our story. Sharon Bryant rode the wave of publicity into a
better job in Atlanta.

My shoulder healed completely after a few
months. I had another scar that held volumes of stories for me to
tell. After all of the publicity settled down, B.J. called and
asked when I was coming back to work. I told him I still needed a
little time, and I would call him back after a few days. He had
taken over the club after Phil’s death. After all I had been
through, I couldn’t wait to get back to the monotony of serving
drinks and playing my favorite music.

Graduation went well. My parents were there,
of course. Sara showed up and was as supportive as ever. Even
Detective Williams came to the party afterwards. He gave me an
application for the police department. I was courteous enough to
wait for him to leave before I threw it in the trashcan.

Ricky ended up a federal informant. He would
write a letter now and then telling me how, but not where he
was.

Stone’s trial was front-page news for months.
Everything came out into the open. He contented that he only got
involved after the first murder, and claimed he was only trying to
protect his brother.

The police and the DA’s office wanted to make
an example of the fallen detective. He was convicted of four counts
of murder. He would await his death at the Louisiana State
Penitentiary. I wouldn’t have sent my worst enemy there . . . but
on second thought. Even though he was on a twenty-four hour suicide
watch, he ended up killing himself the first opportunity that
arose.

The nightmares stopped soon afterwards. I was
able to give Ester $20,000 for Regina. She thought I really did rob
the club, but she took the money anyway. I put $10,000 into an
account for Regina, and used the rest for a down payment on buying
the club. I was thinking of adding a restaurant to make the place
more respectable when one day, as I was completing the renovations,
I had an unexpected visitor.

“Still at it I see.”

It was Sara. I could tell by the way she was
dressed and the look in her eyes that something was up. “Where are
you off to?” I asked.

“There is nothing left for me here, nothing
at all. I need a fresh start somewhere far away from here. What
about you? What are your plans?”

I placed the paintbrush down, wiped my brow
and answered, “I just want to run my club. I want to listen to some
good music and lose myself for a while. It’s basically the same
thing you are doing. I just can’t leave.”

“Michael, I’m sorry. I wish I could settle
down and be a sweet little housewife, but that’s not me. I’m not
Michelle.”

“I never expected you to be.”

“Well, you were the only one. I can’t explain
it. When Michelle disappeared everyone just thought I would take
over her life.” She walked over and put her arms around me.
“Although some aspects of her life I would have gladly taken over,”
she said seductively.

“You’ve always been a fast lane type lady.
You would have gotten tired of me.”

“You’re a sweet guy. Who knows what would
have happened in another life.” She released me and began to walk
away. You know, if this club thing doesn’t work out, I know what
you should be doing.”

“And just what is that?” I asked

“Well, you were the subject of many
conversations I had with my dear sister, so it was actually her
idea. You were named after your grandfather, right? Maybe that
should tell you something about what you should be doing,” she
said.

“Me? A preacher? Be serious.”

“I am serious. Think about it.”

I tried to play it off as a joke, but the
thought had crossed my mind dozens of times. I know that is what he
would have wanted. After being surrounded by so much trouble, maybe
she was right.

You can’t save everyone.

Maybe I could try.

The End

Coming from Astraea Press

Spring 2012

MASK OF SHADOWS

Prologue

She leaned against the pole that held up the
sign for the Southern Inn Motel. The sign started to hum and after
two quick flashes, it showered Anita Johnson with the faint light
that would serve as her protection, she hoped, for the rest of that
Sunday evening. After all, nothing could hurt her if she remained
in the light. She knew it wasn't true, but that was the story she
had been telling herself. Though largely ignored by the media, a
series of murders plagued the women of the inner city of Baton
Rouge. Ignoring people like Anita was nothing new, and they faded
into the shadows of the night because they didn't belong and
wouldn't be missed. She had already lost six of her friends in the
two years since the murders began. She knew the chance she was
taking, but she lived in a place where hope was a memory and dreams
didn’t dare exist. She was there because she had no future. She was
there because she had nowhere else to go.

Even though the sun was down, sweat continued
to pour from the forehead of the withered thirty-eight-year old
woman of the night. She started her nightly ritual of walking the
stroll up and down North Street, preparing herself to perform
ungodly acts for paltry sums of money. How much is your virtue and
self-esteem worth? When you live in Eden Park, it's the cost of a
rock or a hit of smack. She lived for the fifteen-minute spurts of
nirvana the drugs provided. For those brief moments, she was no
longer a disappointment or a failure. She remembered the time when
men lined up for just the opportunity to talk to her. She smiled as
she thought about the trail of broken hearts and bruised egos she
had left throughout her life. As she reminisced, she didn’t see the
set of headlights that turned on from across the street at the
Capital City Funeral Home.

The pain radiated from her stomach throughout
her entire body, but she wasn’t craving food. Food was an
afterthought as she waved and feigned a smile as a city police unit
rolled past her. Fearful, she rubbed the track marks on her arm,
not knowing whom to be more afraid of, the faceless madman who was
killing her friends, or of Tulow, the man who was going to end up
with whatever money she made that night. Picking at her fingernails
as she walked back and forth, part of her mind remained in the time
before the drugs, disappointment, and hurt. Anita had a career she
enjoyed and a family that cared for her. Then she met him. That was
ten years ago, and everything since had been a blur. Lost in
thought, she didn’t notice the large black vehicle until it stopped
directly in front of her. The tint on the windows was so dark she
couldn’t see inside. The truck had to have stopped for a
reason.

To ensure she didn’t end up like her friends,
she usually only turned tricks with men she knew. She didn’t
recognize the black vehicle, but she didn't have a choice. The
night was slow so that was no longer an option. She was tired and
scared, and nothing could guarantee her safety. Only a few weeks
ago, Anita heard screams coming from one of the motel rooms behind
her. No one else responded to the call, so she did. The door to the
room was open, so she walked in. There was one of her friends
bleeding and crying from a brutal beating. Standing over the girl
was a former customer of Anita’s. He pushed Anita out of the way,
as he stormed out of the room. Anita helped the girl up and called
911. Although the young girl recovered, she would later overdose on
heroin. Anita wondered who would come to her aid, as she walked
over and leaned against the front door of the unknown vehicle.

The electric window crept down. It was so
dark inside she could only see a faint silhouette of the driver.
The light right behind her did let her to see the five, crisp, new
one hundred dollar bills that lay in the passenger seat.

“So, are you datin’, baby?” she asked as she
contemplated grabbing the money and running as far as her tired
legs would allow. She knew someone who was willing to spend that
amount of money would expect an especially heinous and degrading
act. That someone was a stranger. The automatic locks on the
vehicle’s doors popped up. The hunger continued to call out to her
and overrode all sense or reason. With that much money, Tulow could
get his share and she would still have enough left over to get a
fix. Anita wasn’t an uneducated woman. She heard the streets
talking, and things were not going to end well for her if she
continued on this path. After this time maybe, she could go to
rehab, but Tulow would never allow that. She knew she couldn’t
escape. There was only one way out, and she knew what it was.

Anita picked up the money and sat down in the
truck. The window rolled up, and they pulled away.

“Turn left at the light,” she told the
driver. However, when they reached the corner, they turned right.
“Didn’t you hear me?" she asked.

The driver didn't acknowledge her, but the
doors of the truck clicked and locked.

"Maybe you should just take your money back
and drop me off,” she said, as she threw the money on the floor of
the truck.

The dark figure ignored her instructions and
continued to drive.

“Look! You need to let me out. My boyfriend
knows I’m out here. He was watching you the whole time!” she lied
as she tried to open the door, but she knew she couldn’t escape. As
she struggled to open the door, her captor struck her in the side
of her hip. She thought to herself he hadn’t hit her that hard, but
the strike made her entire leg burn. It didn’t take Anita long to
realize it wasn’t a punch. He’d injected her with something. Before
she had a chance to react, a strange feeling engulfed her body. It
wasn’t fear. It wasn’t anger. It was peace. She felt the kind of
peace she hadn’t felt since before her father died, before the
madness.

Her eyes started to blur, and she could only
see faint blurred images through the front window. She closed her
eyes and let her body drift into the peaceful euphoria overtaking
her. All fell still and silent. Anita Johnson wondered who would
miss her, but her captor knew no one would.

Chapter 1

As the night released the rising sun over the
capital city, I turned off my car stereo and began flipping through
my newspaper until I reached the metro section. The sidebar
editorial read ‘Other Murders Remained Unsolved.’ Under the caption
was the picture of a distressed woman standing in front of the
building I had been watching for the last three nights. She worked
the streets in that particular neighborhood, and in the last six
months, five of her friends were murdered. All were black, and all
were prostitutes. For that reason, the police paid little
attention. The grim news didn't stop there. In the past five years,
twenty-nine Baton Rouge women, not including the women who the
police thought lead a “high risk” lifestyle, had gone missing or
been murdered. Although the police tried to deny it, the city lived
in fear of a serial killer. The Daily Advertiser displayed the
photos of all twenty-nine women on the front page. Number fifteen’s
name was Michelle Allen. Her dark brown hair barely touched the top
of her delicate shoulders. She had soft alabaster skin with deep
blue eyes. Her beauty transcended the small, modest picture. She
was easily the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Michelle was
the kind of free spirit that loved to dance in the middle of a
rainstorm and make love in front of the fireplace afterwards. She
loved walks in the park and John Coltrane. She was the reason I
became a private detective. After all, she was going to be my
wife.

On a rainy night, four years ago, we were
celebrating my graduation from the police academy, though it was
more my father’s hope than mine. We had gone through so much, and
she was so proud of me. I could still remember the look in her
eyes. It was going to be the first night of the rest of our lives.
Around midnight she started to feel ill. She had the next day off,
so I begged her to spend the night with me. I could still see her
waving as she drove out of my driveway. She was wearing a perfect
powder blue sweater with a denim skirt that showed off her great
legs. No matter what, she always wore a smile that made me feel
like my life was actually worth something. That was the last time I
ever saw her.

I looked over the top of the paper and
refocused my attention to the building. The Dreams Alive Foundation
had the unfortunate luck of being located next to the Southern Inn
Motel, a local haven for dealers, hustlers, and prostitutes. My
best friend from college, Alex Williams, and his wife had recently
taken over the Foundation to serve as a community center for the
neighborhood kids. Eden Park was the type of community the police
didn’t care about, and the people who lived there cared even less,
so he asked me to keep an eye out for the place on the weekends.
Just as on the previous two nights, nothing happened. I began to
scan the paper again. The first article under the fold was ‘Police
have no clues regarding deaths.’ Another series of murders at the
city’s largest hospital, Our Lady of Mercy, had the police stumped
as well. Through either perfect planning or plain dumb luck, the
officers weren’t able to make a connection between the five
poisoned patients and the staff that worked at those particular
times over the past year.