Betrayed (24 page)

“Let them look. Their daughter isn't lying up in ICU. Ours is, and I need to vent.”

Mimi pushed open the door and dragged Raphael into the room. Afrika was still sleep. Mimi placed her arms around Raphael and gave him a big sloppy kiss.

“I needed that, girl.” He pulled Mimi to him and kissed her back, locking his fingers and holding her around her head. “You're the brave one, baby. That's for being in place for our daughter. If you had come to Germany with me, who would've been here to take charge? My girl, Mimi.”

Raphael sat in the chair next to the wall and motioned for Mimi to sit on his lap. “I'm sorry, baby, for expressing my feelings like that, but I hate the son-of-a-bitch that did this. All I want is to get to this person first and ask why before I punch his or her lights out.”

“I love you, Raf.”

“I love you, too, Mimi.” Raf turned Mimi's head so he could kiss her again. “So who's this person of interest the police are trying to find?”

T
he door to the room pushed open. Raphael stared at the bald-headed man who moved forward like he knew he was in the right place.

Mimi jumped off of Raf's lap and stood between her husband and John. “John,” Mimi said with a smile, extending her hand to shake his. “John, this is my husband, Raphael. Raphael, this is John, an old college friend.”

Raphael stood and looked at John with amusement. He noticed how Mimi lit up when he walked through the room, like there was some chemistry going on. He shook John's hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Raphael finally said.

“Well, look, I just came by to see how Afrika was doing…how you were holding up, Mimi.”

“Thanks, John. I'm much better now that Raphael is here.”

“Old college friends. John…John…I don't remember Mimi mentioning your name.”

John darted his eyes at Mimi and abruptly turned away. “It was a long time ago.”

“So you just happened to run into each other in the hospital?”

“Raf, what are you doing?” Mimi asked, perplexed.

“Pulling a security check. You've forgotten how you told me that you like bald-headed men who…”

“Raf, enough. I know you're aren't jealous,” Mimi said.

“No, I'm not jealous. Can't be too careful. Stray men walking into my daughter's room. You aren't the stalker?”

“What?” John asked. He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “Look, I came by to check on your wife and daughter. Truth of the matter, we did run into each other a few days ago.” Raf lifted his eyebrow. “I was out for a jog and ran into an old schoolmate,” John continued. “Life happens, man. You need to lighten up.”

“Is that so?” Raf said. “I don't know if Mimi told you, but I was on my way to a war zone. This wasn't my first but third time. Excuse me if I seem uptight because I am. My little girl is lying helpless in that bed and they haven't found the son-of-a-bitch who's done this. Let's start over. Nice to meet you, John.”

John took Raphael's hand with some reluctance. “Nice to meet you, too. Glad to see you're doing better, Mimi. I'll check on you all later. If there's anything I can get you, Raphael, let me know. Maybe we can go and get some suds—get your mind off things.”

“Now that's the second nicest thing I've heard today. I'll take you up on that offer, but later.”

“All right. Will see you later.” And John was gone.

“And who the hell was that, Mimi?”

“I told you. An old college friend.”

“Uhm, hmm.”

“Remember, we're here for Afrika.”

B
RENDA TURNED OVER AND LOOKED AT THE CLOCK
. I
T WAS ONE IN
the afternoon. She'd overslept; the morning had disappeared, and as much as she'd wanted to go the house of the Lord today, it was past too late. With arms outstretched, she yawned, closed her eyes, returned to her fetal position, and pulled the comforter up high. She stuck her arms underneath her stomach and began to doze off.

Within a few minutes, Brenda's eyes popped open. She released one of her arms from underneath her and felt for the place that was usually occupied by her husband. The sheets were cold and hadn't been parted, an obvious sign that Victor had not come home or had chosen to sleep somewhere else in the house.

Brenda willed herself to sit up. Her eyes and ears met a silent, still room—no evidence that anyone had been there other than herself in the last eight hours. Brenda wasn't sure what to make of it, but her mind started spinning and every conceivable negative thought she had about Victor raced to the forefront.

She pulled back the covers and placed her feet on the floor. Brenda felt gloomy like the day outside. Her thoughts turned to Mimi and Afrika…praying that Afrika would recover and Mimi wouldn't hold her accountable if indeed this was the work of Victor. Then Brenda's subconscious went to rewind as she replayed Mimi's story about Victor raping her over and over. Mimi's words marinated in her soul, and Brenda couldn't let go…and then the visual.

Jumping up from the bed, Brenda balled her fists. “Why, Jesus? Why is this happening to me? God, I want to believe Mimi, and in my heart of hearts I know she's telling the truth. But Victor is my husband…and…and, he wouldn't have done that to me…hurt me that way.”

Brenda sighed. The place was too quiet for her. She put on her robe and went in search of Victor. Surely he was in another room.

Brenda went from room to room but no Victor. She opened the door to Trevor's bedroom. There was evidence Trevor had slept in his bed, but he was not there now.

“Trevor!” Brenda yelled.

“Down here, Mom!” Trevor yelled back.

“Is your dad down there?”

“Do you mean, did Dad come home?”

“Don't be a smart mouth, Trevor.”

“Haven't seen him.”

“Thank you.”

Brenda retreated to her bedroom. Before she could close the door, the doorbell rang.

“Get that, Trevor!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

Trevor went to the door and opened it. He stared into the faces of the detectives who had graced their presence on the Christianson's doorstep yesterday.

“May I help you?” Trevor asked, his head cocked to the side.

“Detective Samuels and Detective Marshall,” Marshall said. They flipped their badges.

“I know who you are.”

“I'm glad we made an impression,” Detective Samuels said. “Son, is your dad here? We need to talk with him.”

“Nope; he didn't come home last night. Haven't seen him since yesterday.”

“Is your mother here? We would like to talk to her.”

Trevor stared at the detectives. “Wait here. Let me see if she's up.”

Detective Samuels bunched up his lips and rolled his eyes at Detective Marshall. “All right, we'll wait here,” Detective Samuels said.

Trevor closed the door and hollered for Brenda. “Mom, those two detectives I was telling you about are standing on our front porch. They want to talk to you.”

“I'm not dressed. Tell them I just woke up.”

“Okay.”

Trevor opened the door as the two detectives chatted away. They stopped and turned around at the sound of the door opening.

“My mother just woke up and she's not dressed,” Trevor said.

“We'll wait,” Marshall said, taking the lead. “We've got all day.”

“Come in.”

The detectives followed Trevor into the foyer and looked around. Trevor led them into the family room and offered them a seat.

“We'll stand,” Detective Samuels said as Beyonce tiptoed into the room and made an appearance, stopping to check out the two gentlemen who dared to invade her space. Uninterested, Beyonce turned around and walked out of the room.

“Cute cat,” Samuels said.

“I'll be right back,” Trevor said.

Trevor took two steps at a time and hurried to his mother's bedroom. He knocked at the closed door. Brenda peeked out.

“What is it, Trevor?”

“The two detectives? They're in the family room. Said they aren't going away until they speak to you.”

“Jesus,” Brenda hissed. “I'll be down in a few minutes.”

Trevor returned to the family room where Samuels and Marshall were engaged in a lively discussion. Upon Trevor's entrance, they clammed up and waited. Trevor sat down and the detectives decided to do so as well.

Marshall sat on the edge of his seat. “So, son…”

“My name is Trevor.”

“All right, Trevor, is it normal for your father to stay away from home for long periods of time?”

“No!” Brenda's voice boomed as she made her way into the room dressed in a pair of denim jeans and a white cotton tee but void of makeup.

Detective Marshall rose from his seat and looked Brenda over, touched the back of his pen to his face as if he was contemplating something, looked over at Samuels, and then back at Brenda. “So, Mrs. Christianson, do you know where your husband is?”

“He must have risen early and stopped by the university to do some work.”

Detective Marshall motioned to Samuels. Samuels rose from his seat and walked outside. He was gone for no more than four minutes and reappeared. Brenda began to fidget in her seat. “Is it customary for him to go in to work on a Sunday?”

Brenda said nothing.

“We'll have someone check the university to see if we can locate Mr. Christianson,” Marshall said, looking Brenda square in the face.

Detective Marshall made Brenda nervous. He continued to stare at her, as if using one of the tactics he'd learn at the academy or wherever he had received his training to break her down. Too many police dramas. She needed some romance in her life.

Detective Marshall pulled her out of her daydream. “Mrs. Christianson, you indicated to the officers at the hospital that your husband is in possession of a gun and you were concerned about his state of mind…that you were afraid he might do some-thing…in your words ‘stupid.' What prompted you to say that?”

Trevor shot a quick glance at Brenda and looked away. Brenda stole a glance in Trevor's direction and then into the face of Detective Marshall who waited for her answer.

“I asked my husband for a divorce and he became visibly upset. He was angry and decided to leave the house. When he picked up his coat, a gun dropped out.”

Trevor shot Brenda another quick look.

“Do you know why he would be carrying a gun in his pocket and was there a particular reason that led to your announcement at that time?”

Sweat dotted Brenda's hairline. She balked at Marshall's line of questioning, hoping it wouldn't cause her to reveal more than she
was ready for Trevor to hear. She stared at Trevor as he sat stoically in his seat, as if gnawing on the bits and pieces of information that flowed from her mouth. She was not ready to reveal the contents of Mimi's secret, so Brenda searched hard for an answer.

“Victor…Mr. Christianson and I have been somewhat estranged in our marriage for some time. I can't say what actually caused the moment, but a petty argument led to a bigger one, and I had had enough.”

Marshall rapped his pad on his knuckles. He glanced at Samuels and back at Brenda.

“If Mr. Christianson should come home, please let him know that we need to speak to him right away,” Marshall said.

“I'll let him know,” Brenda said matter-of-factly.

Detectives Marshall and Samuels moved toward the door. Samuels turned around. “Have a good day. It would cause grave consequences to you if you harbored a fugitive.”

Brenda looked at Samuels without a word. Then they were gone.

“A divorce, Mom?” Trevor asked. “When were you going to tell me…Asia?”

“It happened after I came home from the game. And then Afrika was shot.”

“You think Dad did it, don't you? But why Afrika?”

“I hope not, Trevor.” That's all Brenda would say.

“He doesn't deserve you, Mom. You can do better by yourself.”

Brenda stared at Trevor. “You think so?”

P
ARKED DOWN THE STREET IN A COMPANY CAR
, V
ICTOR WATCHED
the detectives as they retreated from his house, surveyed the surroundings, and finally got in their car and drove away. He slid down in his seat to avoid being seen when they passed. He was
grateful for the Sunday gathering at the house a few doors from his own and the basketball game that allowed him to park and be incognito for a little while. There was no way he could return home; he was sure the house was being watched. He pulled off an hour later when the basketball game came to an end.

“G
irl, have you heard any more about the shooting on Saturday? I still can't get a grasp that some lunatic out of the crowd shot one of our cheerleaders.”

“Phyllis, it's crazy,” Sheila said. “The cops have been buzzin' around here like vultures like we're supposed to know who tried to kill that student. They look like ants at a picnic crawling everywhere, looking for I don't know what.”

“What is Victor saying?”

“Victor? Girl, I haven't seen him all morning. It's ten o'clock; he's usually here by now. Must be running late. He and his wife must be on the outs because he keeps stopping by.”

“Sheila, I don't know when you're going to tell Victor about you and Jamal getting married because he's not going to be too happy about some other dude up in the place he pays for. You're not only going to be on the street; he might just fire your ass.”

“I haven't thought it through yet. Phyllis, girl, Victor stopped by Saturday night, and he was some kind of weird. Wanted to be all up in my business…throwing himself all over me—forceful like. I couldn't roll with him because Jamal was due to come over at any minute.”

“What did you do?”