Authors: Tyora M. Moody
When Rain Falls (22 page)
Chapter Forty-three
Candace watched the nurse as she checked the vitals on the machine beeping beside her aunt. Was this it for Maggie? The person she considered to be her second mama as a child? How far they had fallen away from the close bond they had so long ago. It was Maggie who had cooked meals, had helped her with her homework, and on occasion had shown up at parent-teacher conferences when Mama went missing in action. Before she reached puberty, Candace had enjoyed talking to her aunt and watching her cooking in the kitchen. So much fun they'd had together.
All these memories had been buried deep. All because of
him
.
him
.
When Mama started bringing that man around, everything changed. Candace had never liked him. When Maggie called or came to visit, the two sisters argued horribly. Nate Benson's name came up all the time. That same man would ultimately tear them all apart forever.
“Honey, you should go home and rest. You know we can call you with any changes. Right now the muscle relaxant is providing some relief for her pain.”
Candace forced a smile and told the nurse, “I'm fine. She needs family around when she wakes up.” If it were her, Maggie would be sitting by her side. Plus, she couldn't bear it if she lost the last link to her mother and they'd never truly made amends.
Having no kids of her own, Maggie had always lived in the shadow of her younger sister, the prettier one. But Maggie was like a rock. Faithful and immovable.
Could life get any more depressing?
Candace thought,
Maybe it is time to stretch my legs.
Maybe it is time to stretch my legs.
Nurses hovered around the station outside her aunt's room. She knew someone would be in the room within seconds if something happened. Besides, she did need to call Beulah. She pressed the speed dial button on her cell phone. After she heard Beulah's greeting, she responded, “Hey, how are the kids doing?”
“Honey, they are just fine. I knocked on Miss Rachel's door, and she had those headphones on, and Mr. Daniel, he tried to show me a few things on the computer.”
That sounded like her computer nerd. She needed her son to show her a few things, as well. “I really appreciate this, Beulah. I know they are too old for a babysitter.” Candace didn't completely trust Rachel yet. There was no telling what that girl would try without any adult supervision. She'd already left the house in the middle of the night, right under Candace's nose.
“No problem. They are really good kids. It's been hard on all of you. How is your aunt doing?”
“Apparently, she was in a lot of pain, and they have her on some medicine so she can rest. She was already fast asleep when I got here, so I don't know if she knows I'm here.”
“Candace, the kids are fine. You stay as long as you need to. She does need someone there for her.”
“This is just too much. The cancer has spread, and she doesn't want to do any more treatments.”
“Sometimes when folks get old, they're just ready to go home. Battling cancer is not encouraging her.”
“I know. Talk to you soon, and tell the kids I will call again.” After ending the call, Candace rounded the corner and heard several nurses laughing at the nearby station.
Then she noticed a man leaning over the counter.
He's still here.
He's still here.
Darnell stood at the counter, where a group of nurses appeared to be smitten with his conversation. She moved to the side to let a nurse push a patient in a wheelchair past her. Trying not to be obvious, she observed his side profile.
There was definitely a certain movie star essence about him with his chiseled jawline. She was overjoyed that he would stay for her. Candace walked toward the group. “Detective?”
He waved and then stepped away from the nurses. “Hey, how's your aunt doing?”
“Hanging in there. You really didn't have to stay. I do appreciate you following me here. I guess I was a bit shaky.”
“Not a problem. You never know what to expect when you get calls like that.”
She stared at him. That burger and fries might not have been a good idea. Her stomach was doing some acrobatic moves at that moment.
He broke the stare. “You mind if we walk a little?” They walked down a hallway with less traffic. “By the way, I did some checking through some older police reports. You might be on to something about Mitch that you mentioned a while back.”
“What did you find?”
“According to the records, Yvonne filed a complaint a few years back against Mitch. The nine-one-one call was cited as a domestic violence incident at their residence. But Yvonne didn't file charges.”
“So, he is capable of violent behavior.”
“It appears so. They have had a volatile relationship. Explains a bit why their two sons stay away from home so much. Yvonne definitely has more motive, so I will be talking to the captain in the morning about getting their phone records. But you know what? There's something I haven't mentioned to you.”
“What's that?”
“We have a witness that saw Pamela at the coffee shop with a man. Before you get too excited, it wasn't Mitch. The coffee shop employee came in earlier to look at mug shots, but she really didn't get a look at his face, so she couldn't pin down anyone.”
Candace shook her head. “This is exhausting.”
“Tell me about it. But let me worry about it. I have a few folks to question again.”
She didn't want to pry. “I do appreciate you sharing with me. This is above and beyond your job duties, I believe.”
Darnell's voice dropped as another nurse walked by them. He gazed at her again. “I think you have a right to know. I'm going to try to go home for a bit to catch some shut-eye tonight. I know my dog will be happy to see me. Zack probably sees my neighbor more than me.”
“Oh, I'm sure he will be glad to see his poppa.”
Darnell laughed. “That's funny. With the way my life has gone, that dog is the closest to a kid I might have.”
“Oh, don't say that. We never know what God has in mind for us. You're still young.” All this time, she'd never really asked Darnell about himself. She knew from his aunt that he'd been divorced a number of years now. To hear Beulah tell the story, his ex was a gold digger, anyhow, unappreciative of her nephew.
“Nice of you to say that. And thanks for the reminder. God does know what's best for us. Look, if you need anything, I'm sure you know where to find me.”
“I will.” She watched him until he disappeared around the corner near the elevators. Her mind was preoccupied with another man. How was that possible? He really kept her up to date about the investigation. In some ways that had helped her deal with her loss. Weighing the news Darnell had brought her and all that she'd overheard at Victory Gospel earlier this afternoon, she decided there had to be a way to get a suspect soon.
As she entered her aunt's hospital room, coughing erupted from the bed. She rushed over as Maggie tried to lift her head. “Maggie. Do you need me to call the nurse?”
With listless eyes, Maggie focused on Candace's face. She blinked. “Nana.”
This wasn't the time to correct her aunt about the childhood nickname. She didn't care. Candace pushed wisps of hair from her aunt's sweaty forehead. “How do you feel? The nurse was just in here. We can buzz her back.”
“No, I'm fine. I don't feel any pain right now.”
“Okay.” Candace's eyes watered.
You will not let her see you cry.
Maggie's cheeks had been a lot rounder years ago. The woman in the bed was only a whisper of the heavyset woman whose body shook when she laughed.
You will not let her see you cry.
Maggie's cheeks had been a lot rounder years ago. The woman in the bed was only a whisper of the heavyset woman whose body shook when she laughed.
“You don't need to be here.”
Candace flinched. “Yes, I do. I know we have had issues in the past. But you are my family, Maggie.”
“That's good to hear.” Maggie broke out into another rash of coughs.
“I'm going to ring the buzzer this time.”
“Wait.” The older woman's grip on her arm was surprisingly strong. “I won't be here long, but I'm not going anywhere yet.”
“Thank you, Lord. Now, let's get the nurse. They need to know you are awake.”
“Not yet. It's okay. I'm here until I finish whatever God needs me to do.”
“Maggieâ”
“I know you can't understand, but at a certain point in life, one wishes they could go back and make changes. But we can't. Goodness knows, we all make mistakes. I owe you.”
“You don't owe me anything.”
“Listen to me. You are just like your mother. Always interrupting, never listening when someone is trying to tell you something. Don't say anything else.”
Candace's face was warm from the reprimand. She felt more like a nine-year-old than a thirty-nine-year-old.
“When I came to see you, you mentioned you see your mama in your dreams.”
“It's not often. To be honest, I don't enjoy when she shows up.”
“Why is that?” Maggie coughed. She waved her hand. “I'm fine. Tell me what you mean.”
“It just seems like when I dream about her, something bad happens. The last time I found out my best friend had been killed.”
“Now, Candace, I taught you about being superstitious.”
“I'm not. Look, you asked me.”
Maggie looked thoughtful. “I remember when I arrived in New York, they'd put you in a foster home for a little while, until I could get to you. You didn't talk for a long time.”
Candace wasn't so sure this was necessary. There was no need to go back.
“I didn't help. When we came back down here, you were even more withdrawn. I don't think you had time to really grieve. I know I didn't. I took you on as my project. You were going to turn out different from Cheryl.”
“Aunt Maggie, you can't control how people turn out. I know you lost your mom early in life and it was on your shoulders to raise Cheryl, but you were her sister. Just like you were my aunt. You needed to live your own life, but you were there for both of us.”
Tears spilled down Maggie's eyes. “Thank you for telling me that. That means a lot. Sometimes I blame myself for Cheryl.”
“Yeah, that makes two of us.” Candace looked away. She wanted to bolt out the door.
“Candace, you were a child.”
“But I could have helped. I could have called for help.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
Candace sat up in the chair. Rage streamed through her body. She felt hot and cold all at once. “Do you know what she did?”
Maggie whispered, “No. You never told me what happened. You didn't tell anyone.”
The hospital beeps, the khaki walls, and her aunt seemed to fade. She spoke. “She told me to get in the closet and stay put. Then she shut the door. I heard it click. I yelled and yelled. Then I heard him. Nate came back. He'd been gone a few days. But he came back, madder than a hungry lion. I heard everything. Everything through the door.”
Tears spilled down her face. She looked at her aunt.
“You know I was inches away from the phone. I knew how to dial nine-one-one. I could have called for help. But she locked me in the closet.”
Maggie reached out; her weak hands clasped Candace. “She wanted to protect you. Cheryl loved you more than anything else. Don't bury her memory.”
Candace bent her head and cried into her hands. She never wanted to be that helpless again. Ever.
Chapter Forty-four
If his body wasn't already running on empty, Darnell would have insisted on staying at the hospital with Candace. She'd looked like she could use a friend, and he was more than a willing candidate. Never could he have imagined, years after a failed marriage, finding himself hopeful about love again. He'd called her twice on Tuesday under the pretense of wanting a progress report on her aunt. That was what he wanted her to think. What he really wanted was just to hear her voice.
Darnell couldn't seem to find a reason not to include her in the investigation.
At least until now.
There was a missing piece, and it nagged at Darnell like a dripping faucet. What really clawed at the edge of his thoughts was Serena Manchester. Had the reporter actually come upon something useful for a change? What if there was a connection between Frank's and Pamela's deaths? The more he thought about it, the more ludicrous the idea seemed. But there were too many similarities to ignore.
He hoped Brunson was in an amicable mood. After Darnell's terse remarks the other day, he would probably have to do some serious groveling to get his partner to talk. However, Brunson was missing in action.
Fine.
Until he showed up, Darnell had some research to do. He grabbed a file from underneath a stack of folders on his desk.
Fine.
Until he showed up, Darnell had some research to do. He grabbed a file from underneath a stack of folders on his desk.
According to some notes dated November 16, 2006, Frank Johnson had a pretty normal workday, if there was such a thing when working homicide. Brunson and Frank arrested a man suspected in a rape-murder investigation. After hours of questioning, the suspect confessed. Nothing out of the ordinary, but something went wrong before the evening was over.
Darnell pulled out written statements. Candace had told the officer that she'd talked to Frank around lunchtime. Her husband mentioned that he would be home around six o'clock and was looking forward to a special dinner. If anything had come up, she'd stated, he would have called to say he would be home late.
But Frank never called.
As he continued reading, Darnell could picture Candace's sad eyes. According to the statement, the next time she heard any information about her husband was when officers showed up at the Johnson residence early the next morning. Grabbing what was next on the pile, Darnell carefully read statements from others. Frank had relayed to several colleagues his intentions to go home for some of his wife's home cooking for a change.
There was one slight difference.
Darnell grabbed a pencil from his desk and circled what Brunson had stated. “Frank was excited about the case being a done deal. We got the confession. He did mention he was going home. Before he left, he received a call. I didn't think anything of it. Figured it was Candace or one of the kids looking for him.”
Darnell circled
call
and then continued reading Brunson's statement. “I did notice he had a strange look on his face. I can't describe it. He looked like he was thinking really hard about something. That's all I can say.”
call
and then continued reading Brunson's statement. “I did notice he had a strange look on his face. I can't describe it. He looked like he was thinking really hard about something. That's all I can say.”
A disturbing call.
Darnell put the statement down and pulled out copies of phone records. The call received on Frank's office phone had been traced back to an unidentifiable number, probably a disposable cell phone. Whoever had made the call didn't want to be traced. “So, who were you going to meet, man?” Darnell spoke under his breath. It didn't escape his mind.
Darnell put the statement down and pulled out copies of phone records. The call received on Frank's office phone had been traced back to an unidentifiable number, probably a disposable cell phone. Whoever had made the call didn't want to be traced. “So, who were you going to meet, man?” Darnell spoke under his breath. It didn't escape his mind.
This information, though two years old, sounded eerily familiar to him. Pamela also had an untraceable number in her phone records the night of her death. That couldn't be a coincidence.
The medical examiner's report stated Frank's body was found facedown. Two gunshot wounds in the back. One bullet was dislodged; the other slug remained in the body. Pamela Coleman wasn't shot, but she was hit on the back of the head with a blunt object. The killer didn't want to be seen.
Darnell leaned back in his chair. The house where Frank was found had appeared abandoned.
Why this particular house?
Plenty of folks had reviewed these same files over and over again. Probably with the same questions. He rubbed his eyes. The lack of sleep was getting to him, but he needed a better understanding of Frank's death.
Why this particular house?
Plenty of folks had reviewed these same files over and over again. Probably with the same questions. He rubbed his eyes. The lack of sleep was getting to him, but he needed a better understanding of Frank's death.
He continued reading. The house appeared to have been traced back to its owner, an older couple who currently lived in Florida. When questioned, the owner mentioned he had rented the place for a few years but had soon grown tired of trying to keep up with tenants. A realty company had been charged with keeping up with the rental property not too long before Frank's body was found.
Darnell stopped reading and cocked his head to the side. Brunson was shuffling around in the office across from him. It was now or never. He got up and walked around to his partner's cubicle.
Brunson had his head thrown back, sucking down the last remnants of a Coke. As he put the can on his desk, he looked warily over at Darnell.
“Hey, man, can we talk?”
The older man continued to watch him like a large animal observing its prey.
Unfettered, Darnell tried again. “If you got a minute, I could use your expertise.”
May as well lay it on thick.
May as well lay it on thick.
“What do you want, Jackson?”
“Is there a complete listing of who rented the house where Frank Johnson's body was found?”
Brunson coughed, gagged, and coughed again. “What are you doing? You got the hots for Candace or something? You think if you solve two cases that're important to her, you might get your chance to worm your way into her life?”
For once, Darnell didn't know what to say. Was he? Was this all about him trying to get in good with Candace? Okay, he might have been that callous at one time in his life, but that was not what this was about. “Man, this ain't about me. Not even about you. Frank was your partner. This is about finding out if there's some connection.”
“Connection? To what? Do you think I didn't go over this stuff over and over again?”
Maybe he shouldn't have said that. “Let's start over. I want the truth, and so do you. Do you have a list of people who lived in this house? If not, it's okay. I will get one.”
“You're supposed to be working on the Pamela Coleman case. You're not assigned to Frank's.”
“There might be some connections to the Coleman case. So, I need your help.”
And an open mind
. Darnell didn't want to push it.
And an open mind
. Darnell didn't want to push it.
Brunson stared him down. Again. After a minute, he turned away from Darnell and pulled open a drawer. A folder emerged in his hands with papers sticking out in all directions. They seemed to be held together by a thick red rubber band. As Brunson thumbed through the papers, Darnell stepped in closer, curious to see what his partner had.
Brunson laid out two photos. “I've been going back through Pamela's old cases. Trying to figure out if one of her clients wasn't too happy with the way their case turned out. You know, maybe wanted to get back at their lawyer. Take a look at this.”
Darnell stared at a mug shot. His body temperature shot up. “That's Avante Lafayette. So, what's the deal?”
“Hold on. This is what really got my attention.” Brunson pulled out what appeared to be a newspaper clipping. “Take a look at this.”
Darnell picked up the yellowed paper. In the corner he noted the date, October 10, 1998. His eyes read the headline.
POLICE OFFICERS ACQUITTED.
Underneath the headline was a large photo. He recognized Frank Johnson from the photos he'd seen in Candace's home. There were two other officers, whom he didn't recognize. Darnell started to ask Brunson to tell him what was he supposed to be seeing, but a smaller photo lower down the page caught his attention.
A heavyset woman held her hands to her bosom, her eyes half closed in grief. On one side, a young, slim man appeared to struggle to hold the woman up. Darnell held the paper up close.
Well, I'll be.
He scanned the caption.
Well, I'll be.
He scanned the caption.
“Victim's mother breaks down after verdict. Supported by her youngest and only living son.”
Darnell's eyes gravitated to Brunson's furrowed brow. He tried to comprehend what he was seeing, but wasn't sure what to conclude. “This is Avante.”
Brunson shrugged. “Just a hunch. That Avante dude is the younger brother of the guy Frank and those other cops were accused of shooting without cause.”
“You think Avante has something to do with Frank's death?”
“I'm pretty sure,” Brunson barked.
Darnell frowned. “You got some evidence? Witnesses? This fellow couldn't have just waited that long to enact revenge.”
“Remember that list you wanted?” Brunson pulled out a paper. “The Lafayettes lived in this house very briefly, all of about six months.”
“Which means Avante would have known about the place and could have possibly lured Frank to the house. But why? It just seems strange that he would wait eight years. And how does this relate to Pamela Coleman?”
His partner lowered his head. “That's the thing. I wouldn't have made the connection if I hadn't been digging in Coleman's cases. I believe when I got to the list originally, I checked out the mother's name. Now she's been dead about four years. Never crossed my mind there could be anything else.”
Thoughts were whirring through Darnell's mind at warp speed. The more he looked at Avante's photo, the more he started to think this had to be the man the girl at the coffee shop saw. Too bad she didn't see his face.
“You know what?” Darnell rubbed his hand across his head and looked over at Brunson. “I'm starting to see a connection. Okay, suppose Avante is our guy. There's attorney-client privilege, right? I don't know what he discussed with his lawyer, but suppose Pamela picked up on some of these clues that we are getting?”
“You think he killed her just to keep her mouth closed? She was his lawyer. Anything he said to her had to be confidential.”
“Yeah, but this information affected her best friend. There's no way she couldn't keep quiet about it. Pamela was passionate about justice. She would risk being disbarred if it meant exposing Frank's killer.”
The bittersweetness of this revelation hit Darnell. How could he tell Candace her best friend might have been murdered because of information she had on Frank's killer? That somehow didn't seem fair. Not at all.
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