Hard Candy Saga (15 page)

* * *

Candice sucked her teeth angrily as her cell phone buzzed for the fiftieth time. She didn't bother to look at the caller ID since she already knew who it was.

“Shana! Stop fuckin' calling me. Obviously I don't wanna talk!” Candice screamed into the air, pressing the ignore button once again. Candice didn't have time for distractions. She was angry enough to shoot up an entire neighborhood right now. She certainly couldn't take a chance with any of her marks turning up missing before she had the opportunity to exact her own brand of justice. What she had read at Uncle Rock's house wasn't going to deter her from her mission. No matter what.

Candice packed her supplies and set the small black duffel bag next to the plastic case that held her AR-15. She ripped open the plastic on a brand-new pair of black leather gloves and slid one glove over her fingers. She held the gloved hand up to her face and examined the fit. Uncle Rock always told her that the gloves had to be like her second skin, with no awkwardness to impede movement. Candice dressed in all black as well. No matter what Uncle Rock had done in his past, she realized that his intentions had been good and he had taught her well.

Candice didn't have the benefit of having Uncle Rock's old beater to drive this time. She didn't care about driving her Audi, either. She wasn't worried about anybody recognizing her car.

Feeling ruthless as she climbed into her ride, she wheeled it out of the parking space and headed to Broady and Shana's house. Broady would be first. Candice thought about showing up at Shana's door, going inside, and then blowing Broady's brains out on the spot. But, she decided against it because she didn't want to put Shana through that type of trauma. She decided that she would wait for him to leave the house and follow him wherever he went that night. She was going to see to it that he didn't return home.

Candice pulled to the corner of their block but was unable to turn onto the street. A police officer came walking toward her car, giving some crazy-looking hand signals to indicate that she needed to reroute her car. The
DO NOT CROSS
tape was being rolled out to section off a part of the street. Lights flashed from all of the police and ambulance vehicles parked haphazardly on the street, giving an eerie glow to the night.

Candice furrowed her eyebrows. “What the fuck is going on out here?” she whispered. Her first instinct was to hightail it out of there, since she had a high-powered weapon in her trunk. But the police on the scene were too preoccupied to search her car.

Candice parked on the corner and began walking up the street to investigate the situation. A small glint of worry crossed her mind.
Maybe this has something to do with why Shana was blowing up my phone. Maybe he beat her up again. Or worse.

She picked up her pace, inching closer to the police activity. As she got closer, she realized that Shana and Broady's house was in fact the center of attention
.
Full-fledged panic set in. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead, and Candice began to run, a thousand thoughts crossing her mind at once.

Though Candice worried about Shana, she was equally concerned that someone had killed Broady before she got the chance to do it herself. That would be the second of her marks to turn up dead. She remembered Shana telling her that Broady was in beef with dudes from uptown.
Shit!
What if they got him first? Candice scolded herself for not considering other such possibilities.

A uniformed officer stopped her when she got within a few feet of the house. “Ma'am, you cannot go any further,” he said gruffly, placing his hand up to halt her steps.

Huffing and puffing, Candice was a mixture of nervous anxiety and physical exhaustion. “That is my sister's house,” she lied outright.

“Well, you can't go in there right now,” the officer chided with an attitude. “This is a crime scene, ma'am.”

Candice stepped back. “Will you at least tell me if the victim is a female or male? I'm worried about my sister,” she said, playing the role of a concerned family member.

“I can't give you any information. If your sister happens to be a victim, someone from the detective squad will contact you as next of kin. Your sister does have your information stored someplace, right?” The officer lifted an eyebrow. He'd heard the “that's my sister or brother” line a million times before.

Candice nodded absentmindedly. Of course, Shana had her information. Her cell phone records at least would indicate that the two of them were indeed close.

Candice took in the scene, her gaze riveted to the Emergency Service Unit parked in front of the home, as well as the FDNY ambulance. The entire scene was overwhelming. Exasperated, she turned to leave just as a storm of dark blue uniforms and trench coats rushed out of the house. Some of the EMTs were carrying a stretcher, but the police and other EMTs swarmed around the body, preventing her from seeing who was on it.

Through the static-filled police and medical personnel communication via two-way radios, Candice understood that the victim was a female with a gunshot wound. She was unconscious and had lost a lot of blood. She put her hand over her mouth.
It is Shana. Oh my God! Broady shot Shana! That motherfucker!

“ETA to the county is approximately six minutes,” an EMT reported in his call to the trauma center at Kings County Hospital.

Struck with a burst of energy, Candice raced back toward her car. She was going to follow the ambulance. She was hoping they could save Shana's life. Shana may have been just a means to an end for her initially, but she was certainly not a bad person. Unlike most people Candice knew, Shana deserved to live.

Candice pulled her car onto a side street near the hospital. Still a bit shaken up by the turn of events, she exited on wobbly legs and walked toward the trunk of her car. She lifted the hard plastic spare tire cover and placed the black case and her duffel bag deep inside, near the donut spare tire. She locked the small cover with her key and then locked the trunk from the outside. She knew better than to leave her valuables unsecured in her trunk, especially given the off chance that someone could break into her car while she was inside the hospital.

Candice looked over both shoulders to make sure nobody watched her secure the items. When she was comfortable, she climbed back into the car and drove around to Clarkson Avenue, where she inched slowly down the crowded block until she found a parking space.

Candice scrambled out of the car and rushed into the emergency room entrance of Kings County Hospital. Although it was a county hospital, it had the best trauma center in Brooklyn.

“Excuse me,” Candice said as she approached the reception desk.

“Take this and fill it out,” the young, dark-skinned receptionist snapped without even looking up from her computer.

Candice ignored the young girl's outstretched hand and her obvious lack of customer service skills. “I'm here to see my sister. They just brought her into the trauma center.”

“What is her name?” the receptionist asked dryly, still not making eye contact.

Candice was stuck on stupid. She had no idea what Shana's last name was. All of this time, she had never bothered to ask. Some friend she was.

“Hello? What is your sister's last name?”

“Shana Bellamy,” a voice answered from behind.

Candice whirled around. Tuck stood just inches behind her, his expression grim. Candice didn't know how Tuck had gotten there. She wondered if it was fate that kept putting them in each other's path. Looking up at him, her body felt hot all over. She didn't know if it was the heat of her embarrassment or simple lust, but she felt like melting and throwing up at the same time.

Tuck glanced quickly at Candice before eyeing the receptionist with contempt. “Shana Bellamy was just brought in by the EMTs. Her sister needs some information right now. As you can clearly see, she is very upset,” he said sternly.

The receptionist rolled her eyes and popped the gum she was gnawing on like a hungry hostage. “Hold up,” she mumbled, raising a single corn-chip-shaped fingernail. She pecked on a few computer keys and looked back at Candice. “They haven't put your sister in the system yet. Follow those red doors around, and there should be a nurse or doctor that can tell you something.”

“Thank you.” Candice pivoted toward the red doors.

“Hold on, Candy,” Tuck called after her. “I'm coming with you.”

Candice didn't resist him this time. She didn't even feel the urge to be mean to him. Riding on a roller coaster of emotions right now, she didn't know what she was going to find out about Shana's condition, so Tuck's presence might not be a bad thing after all. In fact, she thought having him present might just be a welcome distraction and source of support.

When Candice and Tuck walked through the heavy metal doors that led to the trauma center, a security guard immediately stopped them.

“You can't go back there,” the wizened old guard warned, moving from behind his station at the small wooden podium.

He reminded Candice of Otis, a security guard that Martin Lawrence played on his sitcom.

“My sister was brought in a few minutes ago. I need some information. The girl out front—”

“You have to sit out there like everybody else and wait for someone to come call for the family of your sister. Nobody is allowed behind these doors,” the guard said, wagging his wrinkled hand at Candice.

Candice's eyes dropped. She didn't even know why she was going through all of this for a girl she barely knew. She couldn't understand her concern for Shana, when all she wanted to do was use the girl in the first place. Perhaps she cared about Shana because she knew no one else did, Shana being all alone in the world, much like Candice herself.

Tuck stepped up as Candice turned to walk away. “Wait over there, Candy,” he instructed.

“Can I talk to you for minute?” Tuck said to the guard.

The guard furrowed his brows as if he was ready to shout a firm “Hell no.”

Tuck didn't give him the chance. Tuck placed his palms roughly on the guard's shoulders, which prompted the old man to turn around so Candice couldn't hear their conversation. He showed the guard something and then heard the guard insist that this was all a misunderstanding.

Tuck suddenly turned with a smile on his face. “C'mon, Candy. Let's go see what we can find out.” He held his hand out for her.

Candice bit her bottom lip. What the hell did he say to the guard? She hoped he hadn't flashed his gun at the guard. The last thing she wanted to do was get arrested in the hospital for being an accomplice of sorts. She would deal with Tuck later. For now, she had to focus on getting more information about Shana.

As Tuck led the way to the nurses' station, the pungent smell of disinfectant shot right up Candice's nose and sat at the back of her throat until she thought she could taste the alcohol in it. She looked around at the flurry of activity.

A plump West Indian nurse stood up behind the high counter and asked, “Who let you back here?”

“Ma'am, my girlfriend's sister was brought in. Shana Bellamy. We need information,” Tuck explained to the nurse.

His girlfriend?
Candice's mind reeled as she tried to concentrate on the nurse's words, spoken in a thick accent.

“This part of the hospital is for staff and patients only. You need to wait outside, and I will find out about her sister.”

Before the nurse could utter another word, the air was cut with the sound of loud screams.

“Code blue! Code blue!” nurses and doctors yelled, scurrying every which way.

It seemed like everyone in the area was running to one of the small rooms. Candice's shoulders slumped. She crossed her fingers in her pocket, making a wish that Shana wasn't the intended recipient.

Tuck grabbed her arm. “C'mon, they are busy. We can't stay back here,” he said softly.

Candice looked over at him with big doe eyes. She knew he was right. There was no use trying to get any more information out of the staff. They had no choice but to wait outside in the family waiting room until more was known about Shana's condition.

Inside the waiting room, several groups of people huddled together, some hugging and crying, others sleeping on each other's shoulders. The mood in the room was more than glum; it was downright depressing.

Candice found a hard plastic chair and sat down, and Tuck stood against the wall next to her.

After an hour or so, Candice noticed a doctor heading in their direction. She tapped Tuck's arm and motioned her head toward the fast-walking doctor. Her heart thumped wildly, but she relaxed back into her chair, releasing her breath in a large poof of air when the doctor called for the family of a patient named Briggs. She didn't even realize until then that she had been holding her breath.

A loud, ear-shattering scream chilled her right to the bone.

Tuck looked down at the fear mounting in Candice's eyes. “Are you all right, Candy?” he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded her head in the affirmative and then hugged herself tight in an attempt to stop the shivers racking her body.

“How did you find out about Shana?” Tuck asked, looking down at Candice from where he stood, his back against the wall.

“I went by her house to see her. She had been calling me for a couple of days. I didn't know anything was wrong. I mean, I knew Broady had a problem keeping his hands to himself. We all knew that. But this? I never expected him to shoot her.” Candice wrung her fingers together to release some tension. “How did you get here yourself?”

“I got a call from Junior sayin' he wanted me to go see that nigga Broady. I went there to pick up some money that was owed to Junior,” Tuck lied. Junior had sent him to bring Broady's black ass in.

“Junior's still not upset with Broady over that whole fight the night of Razor's funeral, is he?” Candice asked, confused.

“I dunno. When I got to Broady and Shana's crib, I found the door open and blood on the steps. I got the fuck up outta there. I wasn't tryin'a leave my DNA or fingerprints up in that camp. I went around the corner and hollered at nine-one-one. I threw that fuckin' TracFone away and just laid back in the cut. I couldn't be seen out there. I wasn't tryin'a be no witness. I got a rap sheet and shit.”

Tuck ran a hand down the side of his face. “I saw the medics leave with her, and I knew they were bringing her to the county. I got here before them. I ain't even call Junior yet.”

“So you think Broady just finally went over the edge on her?” Candice needed to know more details, even though she was getting angry just thinking about it.

“With all the blood I saw on the steps, ain't no tellin' what that nigga went and did. The jake that was out on the scene mentioned gunshot wounds. Ain't no tellin' who did it, with shit the way it is in the streets these days,” Tuck said, hanging his head low.

Candice closed her eyes and exhaled. She bit down into her jaw and forced herself to remain calm. After she learned about Shana's condition, she would find Broady. Not only was he going to pay for allegedly participating in the massacre of her family, he was also going to pay for what he did to Shana.

“You gon' be all right?”

“Yeah, I'ma be okay. But the cops better find Broady before I do,” Candice warned, her legs quaking with suppressed rage.

“A lot of niggas lookin' for Broady, including his own brother. He better hope the cops find him first,” Tuck said seriously, sitting in one of the newly vacated seats next to Candice.

* * *

Six hours later, Candice was startled awake by the voice of a man announcing, “Family of Bellamy!”

She jerked her head from Tuck's shoulder and jumped at the doctor's call. She wiped her face with the palms of both of her hands, trying to clear the cloud of sleep from her eyes. “That's me. I'm, um, her sister,” she answered, sleep still evident in her voice.

“Okay then, Ms. Bellamy. We can go and talk,” the doctor said.

Tuck stood up and grabbed Candice's arm for support. He knew from police experience that whenever the doctors wanted to take family members into the “bad news” room, shit couldn't be good.

Candice followed the doctor in silence. She allowed Tuck to hold on to her because it felt good, and she honestly wasn't sure if she could do this by herself. She finally admitted to herself that her feelings for Tuck might be a little more complicated than she had realized.

“Have a seat anywhere you'd like,” the doctor offered as they entered a room with a long black conference table and swivel chairs.

Candice sat down in the first chair she saw, and Tuck took the seat to her left. Candice steeled herself for the news. Her fists were clenched so hard, her knuckles paled, and her toes were balled up inside of her shoes. Tuck reached for her hand and twined his fingers with hers.

“Ms. Bellamy, I'm afraid that your sister didn't make it,” the doctor blurted out, sparing her the details. He had done it enough times to know that wasting time just prolonged the agony of the victim's family.

The doctor's blunt words came across like an explosion in Candice's ears. She blinked rapidly and stared at the doctor in disbelief, swallowing hard and shaking her head from left to right. She looked over at Tuck and then back at the doctor to confirm that she had heard correctly. Tuck's expression erased any concerns she had with her hearing.

“We tried to stop the bleeding in the brain, but it was too severe. Surgery to remove the bullet fragments from the skull is always touch-and-go. She never regained consciousness,” the doctor explained.

Candice pushed away from the table and shot upright. She couldn't deal with death right now. Not at a time when she'd just walked out on her relationship with Uncle Rock. Her world seemed to be crumbling down around her. She raced down the hallway, heading toward the nearest exit.

Tuck was hot on her heels. “Candy! Wait! Let me take you home! You can't drive like this!” he yelled after her.

Candice continued at her feverish pace. She just wanted to be left alone.

As Tuck gave chase, his cell phone started vibrating in his pocket. “Shit!” He chose to ignore the call. He raced after her until they both spilled onto the street.

Candice sped to her car, refusing to stop for Tuck. Just as she hit the button to open her car door, Tuck threw himself in front of her, blocking her access. Her chest heaved up and down from the mad dash.

Tuck's chest rose and fell just as fast. “Candy, wait a minute!” he panted. “It's okay. I want to take you home. You're in no condition to drive,” he reasoned, struggling to catch his breath.

Candice's lip quivered. She just wanted to get home. Shana's death had her vulnerable. “Please move,” she requested in a whisper-like voice. She didn't know if she meant it, but she said it nonetheless.

“No. Let me drive you home. I will even take a cab back to pick up my car later. Let me be here for you,” Tuck pleaded.

Candice was overwhelmed by feelings she had never experienced before. His face was so beautiful. She felt weakened by his simple request to help.

“Okay,” she whispered, the rush of emotion too much for her to handle. Tears streamed unhindered down her cheeks. And they weren't all for Shana, a girl she hardly knew. Mostly, they were for her—for the life she had been denied.