Granite county, p.18
Granite County, page 18
Without saying anything else, Fleming moved to the couch where she sat next to Allison and took her hand. Looking tenderly into the girl’s brown eyes, Fleming offered encouragement. “Allison, I know you are heartbroken now, but do not let this defeat you. I know from experience you get over a broken heart and it makes you stronger. You are a beautiful, beautiful young lady with so much life and young men ahead of you. You are going to find the perfect place to go to school and some guy will find you and treat you like a princess. I promise.”
Allison managed a weak smile and asked, “You are beautiful too, Detective Fleming…”
“Please, my name is Kennedy.”
Allison smiled again. “You are beautiful too, Kennedy. Did someone really break your heart?”
“They did. It happened twice. Once in high school. It was like your situation. The guy’s parents didn’t think I was good enough for their son. The other, just recently. A good guy, but he didn’t love me enough to take care of some serious personal issues. I loved him but I had no choice but to break up with him.”
Fleming was talking about Lance. She added, “It takes some time to heal, but you move on to bigger and better things. That’s what I did and that’s what you will do. I expect remarkable things from you, Allison.”
Allison gave Fleming a spontaneous hug, and between sobs, whispered, “Thank you.”
They broke from their embrace. Fleming handed Allison her card and said, “If you want to talk - about anything - you call me, any time.”
Mrs. Smith walked Fleming to the door and said, “Not that I should care considering what he did to Allison, but what do you think really happened to Adam?”
Fleming shook her head. “I don’t know. At this point it is still very much a mystery.”
“I am sure you will find out.” Mrs. Smith took Fleming’s hand to shake it and saw the unbandaged scar, the remnant of Buster’s bullet. Fleming noticed Mrs. Smith’s curious glance and smiled, “One of the hazards of the job.”
Asking no questions, Mrs. Smith smiled back and said, “Thank you for what you said to Allison. You have no business being a police officer. If you can relate to other kids as you just did with Allison, you need to be a counselor.”
The two women exchanged good-byes and as Fleming sat in her Explorer, preparing to drive away, she pondered what Mrs. Smith had said. Perhaps she did need to look into being a counselor. However, that would have to come later. She had cop work to do. She had to track down Buster and nail him for killing Reginald Robinson and almost killing Deputy Mark Henderson.
Chapter 28
IN Shrimpers Bay, Kris and Marilyn had been summoned to the Police Station. All Chief Underwood would say on the phone was he wanted to talk to them about the theft of Marilyn’s car and its valuable cargo. The Chief’s means of communication horrified Marilyn. If the Chief had good news, he would have simply shared it over the phone and eliminated everyone’s tension. It was only when they had bad news that law enforcement wanted to speak face-to-face. Plus, there had been no indication of encouragement in the Chief’s voice. Strictly business. Very solemn.
As they sat in the Chief’s office awaiting his arrival, Marilyn’s knee was bouncing like a piston in a well-tuned auto. She was wringing her hands and trying to keep from crying. Outwardly, Kris was in better shape. Inwardly, the contents of his stomach felt as if they were going to come flying out any moment.
Chief Underwood entered his office and before he could sit or speak, Marilyn blurted out, “Have you found Carter?”
Underwood sat in the chair behind his desk and calmly admitted, “No.”
Getting straight to the point, Kris said, “We came here today expecting bad news.” Marilyn was going through tissues from her purse at a rapid rate.
“No news, so that’s good news,” Underwood said. He started to ask the two how they were holding up, but considering their obvious jitters, that would be a senseless question.
Underwood changed course. “Actually, we do have some news. Last night, with the assistance of two brave citizens, we were able to thwart another slider crime. These two gentlemen came to the aid of a woman who was trying to fight off an assailant who was attempting to slide into her car and drive away. This occurred at a convenience store, just as it did with you, Miss Parker. Our two citizens detained this guy until our officers arrived. Unfortunately, his buddy who had driven him to the gas pumps got away. They were in a sedan, not a pickup. We have not located the car.”
“Was the woman injured?” Marilyn wanted to know.
“Just scratched and bruised and frightened like you, Miss Parker, but otherwise all right.”
“Good,” Marilyn started. “Did she…” Marilyn looked at Kris.
Underwood knew what she was asking. “No, there weren’t any children in the car. She was alone.”
Marilyn felt a sense of relief but at the same time asked herself, why couldn’t I have been alone in my car when this happened?
Kris entered the conversation. He felt slightly better, but his stomach still felt like it could erupt. “The guy you caught last night? Did he take Carter?”
“We don’t know. He’s been arrested several times. He’s not talking, about last night or anything else. He was wearing a black hoodie, just like your attacker, Miss Parker.”
“Oh my god,” Marilyn gasped. Her nails dug into Kris arm.
“We have him in our interview room. You can see him, but he can’t see you. Miss Parker, we want you to take a look to determine if you can identify him as your attacker.”
“Are you up to this?” Kris asked her softly.
She whispered yes, and Underwood directed her to the large one-way glass window. The man sitting alone in the room had his hoodie up. Marilyn stood gazing into the window for close to two minutes. She turned around and looked at Underwood and Kris. “That’s not him,” she said, her disappointment obvious.
“Are you sure?” Underwood asked.
“Yes. Because of the hoodie, I didn’t get a good look at my attacker, but I did see enough to know he was white. This man is Black.”
Underwood led Kris and Marilyn back to his office. Marilyn’s expression was blank, as if in a trance.
“I want both of you to remember this,” Underwood said. “I believe the perpetrators who attacked you were not interested in your car. They wanted the baby for a reason. That makes me one hundred percent certain that Carter is still alive. They just haven’t made their intentions known yet.”
“We are counting on you being right,” Kris said.
“Mr. Keller, I know you are a reporter well-known for your investigative skills. Have you - or Miss Parker - noticed anything unusual around your house over the last few days or weeks? Suspicious cars or suspicious people?”
This is where Kris felt at fault. “No. I’ve been out of town,” he said with a twinge of guilt.
“Miss Parker?”
Marilyn rubbed her forehead. “No, I don’t think…. wait. One day I was at the front of the house planting flowers when a pick-up truck drove slowly up the street and came back and stopped in front of the house. This young man got out and said he was looking for odd jobs, that he was out of work and having trouble making ends meet for his family.” She paused to wipe her eyes with a tissue.
“Go on,” Underwood urged.
“I felt sorry for him so I said I he could finish the work in the front yard. He gave me his cell number. I called him two days later. He came back and everything was going fine, except for our neighbor Sam bothering him by talking all the time. I overheard Sam and Jaybo talking about how much money Kris has. They seemed jealous, even teased about robbing us.”
“Are you sure they were just teasing?”
“Yes. I never felt threatened. Just hurt they would say what they did after I had helped this guy.” Kris held Marilyn’s hand tightly and smiled at her.
“You said this young man’s name was Jaybo? That’s unusual. What was his last name?”
“Let me see. I plugged it into my cell.” She pulled her phone out of her purse and thumbed through her contacts. “Here it is. Jaybo. Jaybo Lawrence.”
“And you don’t believe he lives in your neighborhood?”
“No. I had never seen him before.”
“May I see your phone?” Marilyn handed Underwood her phone and he punched Jaybo’s number. “No answer, no voice mail. My guess is he no longer has this phone. It was probably a prepaid from a dollar store,” Underwood said.
“Is he a suspect now?” Marilyn asked hopefully.
“More so a person of interest,” Kris interjected.
“That’s correct,” Underwood nodded. “We will locate Mr. Lawrence. There is the possibility he is no longer in this area, but I am quite certain he will be in one of the databases we have access to.”
Suddenly, Marilyn put her hand to her head and blurted out, “Oh my god!”
Startled, Kris and Underwood looked at each other. “What is it, Marilyn?” a concerned Kris asked.
“The thought just hit me. What if Carter’s abduction has something to do with your investigation in Granite County?”
Her hypothesis caught Kris completely off guard. “No,” he said, looking at Marilyn with reassurance. “It can’t. There is absolutely no connection.”
“Fill me in,” Underwood requested.
“Up in the north Georgia mountains, in a small community called Granite County, a star high school quarterback was found dead in a river. The sheriff declared it an accident. With him, it was a quick open and shut case. That didn’t satisfy the boy’s family. They asked me to fill in a few blanks about the death.”
Underwood pondered for a moment. “Could it be that someone doesn’t want those questions answered? That they staged the slider crime here to take your attention off the investigation up there?”
Kris immediately shook his head in disagreement. “Well, what has occurred here certainly has taken my mind off what is going on in Granite County, but I have not for a second thought there is any connection.”
“Should we contact the sheriff in that jurisdiction?” Underwood asked.
“No need to,” Kris replied. “He will quickly tell you there is no connection. You won’t get much cooperation. All he is focused on is getting re-elected.”
“Isn’t this something we should at least consider?” Marilyn asked as she wiped her eyes with a tissue.
“No. We have to focus our efforts here in Shrimpers Bay, right Chief?”
“Yes,” Underwood responded with hesitancy. “But I am going to file Miss Parker’s possibility in the back of my mind. I want to think about it some more.”
“Pease find Carter, Chief Underwood. This is all my fault,” Marilyn sobbed.
“Do not say that,” Kris admonished her sweetly. “No one is at fault. Crime hits us all, even here in Shrimpers Bay.”
“I can’t tell you not to worry because I know you will worry, and that’s to be expected. But I promise…I promise both of you…that we will return Carter to you.”
“What do we do now?” Kris asked.
“We wait and be patient.”
“I’m not good at waiting, and I’m not patient at all,” Kris responded.
“Then you help us turn over every rock and look in every cranny on the Florida Gulf Coast.”
“Let’s get started,” Kris ordered.
Chapter 29
WHILE still experiencing the emotional pain of his brother’s death, Richard Robinson believed his life was trending positively. Thanks to his hard work and attendance record, Richard had earned a raise and promotion at the distribution center, with the promise of more raises and promotions and money for college. He was putting money in the bank so he and his mother could move out of the Rock Quarry Apartments, and there might even be enough for a down payment on a better car. Plus, he had found a friend and confidante. He and Detective Fleming talked every day. For the first time in his life, Richard believed he had a future and he fed off the positive, sincere encouragement Fleming offered.
Richard had stopped at KFC to purchase fried chicken and sides for he and his mother for supper. Back on lightly traveled Rock Quarry Road in his brother’s beat-up old Toyota, Richard was in a great mood. He had the heater on during an unseasonably cold day and the radio was blasting. His head was swaying to a new rap song and the smell of the chicken was driving him crazy. He was ready to tear into a crispy, fat breast, potato salad and cole slaw.
He was so pre-occupied he did not notice the old Lincoln pull up beside him. By the time he did notice, the Lincoln had crashed into the side of his car, sending it off the road over the curb and on to the sidewalk. Richard was not wearing his seatbelt, so the collision threw his shoulder and head against the driver’s door.
Groggy, Richard did not have time to react before a burly, shaggy-haired henchman for Buster stepped out from behind the wheel of the Lincoln and jerked him out his car. He wrapped his arm around Richard’s throat and lifted him off the ground. Richard struggled to get free, but his efforts were futile. Buster sauntered out of the Lincoln, walked to Richard who was still struggling to get free and slapped him across the face. “Black boy,” Buster started, “I told you if you talked to anyone else about me, you were a dead man. Just wouldn’t listen, would you?”
Gasping for air, Richard managed to say, “What you talkin’ about? I ain’t said nothin’ to nobody 'bout you.”
Buster slapped him again. “Don’t bullshit me, boy. I got ambushed. Somebody set me up and you had to be part of it. Got one of my best associates killed. Somebody’s got to pay for that.”
“I didn’t have nuthin’ to do with that. I knew you were serious when you warned me.” Buster’s goon tightened his grip on Richard’s neck, causing him to have to gasp for air.
“You didn’t talk to your white friend, the detective bitch?”
“She and I talk every day, but not about you. Man, I got a future, and you ain’t part of it.”
“So, what should I do with you, Black boy?” Buster was taking his time with Richard. There was no traffic on the road.
“Let me go. I ain’t done you no harm.”
Buster rubbed his chin. He nodded at his brute who loosened his grip on Richard. “Maybe you right. No harm, no foul.” Buster smiled and patted Richard on the cheek. He winked at his goon who regained his grip on Richard’s throat. “But on the other hand, one of my men is dead, and somebody’s got to pay. I guess that’s you.” Buster pulled a knife out of the back pocket of his jeans and rammed it into Richard’s mid-section once, twice, three times. The goon released his hold on Richard who fell to the ground. Then he kicked Richard once in the head and twice in the stomach.
Buster nodded in approval. He told his goon, “Drag his sorry ass over into that tall grass so no one will see him.” The directive was followed.
Balled in a fetal position, Richard, through his pain, saw Buster standing over him. Smirking, Buster said, “It would have been easier to shoot you, but I want you to die a slow death. You’ll bleed out before anyone finds you in this tall grass. You’ll feel the life draining out of you.”
Buster reached into Richard’s pants pocket and took his cell and wallet. “You won’t be needing this phone or the money because you is gonna be dead. No one will know you is here until the buzzards start circling because my man here is going to drive your car away. We ought to be able to get a couple of hundred bucks for it at a chop shop. Can buy us a mighty fine meal with that.”
Buster kicked Richard a final time and he and his goon left, Buster in the Lincoln and his accomplice in Richard’s car. There was still no traffic on the road.
In agonizing pain, Richard, still balled in the tall grass, pledged to himself, I am not going to die this way. I am not going to die alone and without a fight. Using all his strength, he managed to stand up. It felt as if his guts were pouring out the three knife wounds. Richard stumbled to the sidewalk where he collapsed. Take care of my momma he prayed to God.
God must have heard Richard because no more than thirty seconds later an approaching car stopped when the driver saw Richard sprawled on the ground. A nurse on her way home from her day at a doctor’s office rushed to Richard’s side. “Stay with me. I’m calling for help,” she told Richard as she punched 9-1-1 on her cell.
With the little strength he had remaining, Richard softly took the nurse’s hand. She was in her fifties and earlier in her career had been an emergency room nurse who had seen her share of gunshots and knife wounds. She did what she could to stop the bleeding but not before she acquiesced to Richard’s request: “Call the Sheriff’s Office. Please get Detective Fleming.”
The call reached Fleming who happened to be at her desk. She almost beat the ambulance to the hospital. The attending physician took a cursory glance at Richard and immediately sent him to surgery. The nurse who found Richard had followed the ambulance and was in the waiting room when Fleming arrived. Covered in blood, she gave Fleming a brief version of how she had come upon Richard and said somberly, “It doesn’t look good.”
She and Fleming exchanged cell numbers and the nurse left. There was nothing else the nurse could do. She had done her part. Had she not discovered Richard, he would be in the morgue at this moment instead of on an operating table.
Fleming didn’t contact Kendrick because she assumed correctly that he would hear about what had occurred. Instead, she called Dan who was at the hospital in fifteen minutes. They embraced, and she shared what few details she knew. A nurse came to the waiting room to let Fleming know the surgeon had arrived and would be working on Richard in minutes.
The long wait began. Fleming had contacted Deputy Henderson to go by Richard’s apartment and advise his mother who insisted that he take her to the hospital. Despite her age and health issues, Mrs. Robinson appeared strong as she walked into the waiting room at the hospital. Fleming took her hand. They sat, and Fleming explained what had happened and that the best available surgeon in the area was working on Richard.
