Back to Your Love Page 13

  Maya frowned, shaking her head. “That’s unfortunate. I can’t imagine it was any of the kids who came to help with the cleaning. They were all very helpful and well-mannered.”

  “They were.” Imani had to agree with her cousin’s assessment of the group. Still, she had no idea how many other kids frequented the center or what any of the rest of them were like. This whole situation was unfortunate for everyone involved.

  “I wonder if they’ve notified Xavier.” Maya tapped her chin, her gaze drifting out over the blue-gray waters of the Atlantic.

  “Probably. I don’t think they can just show up unannounced for something like this.” Imani wished Maya hadn’t mentioned Xavier. Every time someone spoke his name, she felt her heart contract in her chest. The feelings she’d had for him all those years ago still lingered inside of her. She wanted to push them aside, to tuck them away until she felt ready to face them.

  Xavier was a good guy. He worked hard at his center and at doing other things to improve the community. Now that he was in the running for the city council seat, he finally had a real shot at getting into a position of power. Imani didn’t doubt for a second that he’d be a good steward for the city and do his best to effect positive change.

  With a secret like the one she harbored, she knew that getting serious with him was out of the question. Even though her feelings for him were intensifying, she couldn’t stand the thought that she might be a detriment to his political career. The city shouldn’t lose out on a truly great leader just because she lacked self-control.

  But the passion they’d shared last weekend had rekindled the sparks of romance—sparks she’d thought had been doused by time and distance. Every moment she spent with him, she could feel those old feelings returning. Resisting him had always been difficult, but after his last gesture of helping with the cleanup at her practice, it was next to impossible.

  “You never get over your first love,” Maya voiced sagely, as if reading her thoughts.

  Imani closed her eyes, shutting out the bright sunlight and the crashing waves that smacked against the beige sands. The sounds of the water and the calling gulls overhead, as well as the scent of salt in the air, stayed with her.

  She had to find a way to get over Xavier before things got any more complicated. He thought he loved her, but he didn’t really know her, not the way he thought he did.

  “Maya, I never told him what happened to me in Atlanta. He doesn’t know because I can’t bear to tell him.” She said the words with her eyes still shut, not wanting to see her cousin’s expression. “And after last weekend…”

  Maya’s brow hitched. “What happened last weekend?”

  She hesitated. “We, uh… Well, you know…” She let her expression tell the tale.

  “Y’all got busy!” Maya clapped her hands on each syllable to emphasize her words.

  She nodded, letting the warmth of the memories take over for a moment. “It was amazing. He was amazing. And I just can’t stand to ruin it.”

  Maya’s voice rang clear as she answered, “You’re going to have to unburden yourself one day, Imani. If he’s going to be the man in your life, he needs to know.”

  She knew Maya was right. One day, Xavier would know everything.

  But for now, she wanted to put that day off for as long as she could.

  “Just be honest with him, Imani.” Maya’s eyes held sympathy. “Let the truth set you free, girl.”

  Imani shook her head. “I can’t. I mean, with the gag order and everything, my hands are tied on saying too much. What if he doesn’t believe me? I’ll have ruined our friendship for sure. And you know this can’t go beyond that because when the press digs it up, it will destroy his political career. I can’t do that to him, Maya. I just can’t.”

  “So you admit you want this, that you want him in your life?”

  She sighed. “Of course I do. But I just don’t see a way this can work out. I was terrified when Cassidy showed up in my office. What if they sent her, Maya? What if they’re out to get me?”

  Maya got up from her spot and joined Imani on the blanket, folding her arms around her. “Imani, what happened wasn’t your fault. You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself.”

  Tears began to spill down Imani’s cheeks as she laid her head on Maya’s shoulder. “Xavier has been the one bright spot in my life. How can I pull him into my mess and ruin things for him?”

  Maya squeezed her even tighter. “It’s not a mess. The people who told you that were assholes, caught up in victim shaming and vitriol. Don’t let this rule you anymore, Imani.”

  Sniffling, Imani closed her eyes against the painful memories. “I’ll try.”

  Maya grabbed her shoulders, made her look her in the eye. “You can do this.”

  A teary-eyed Imani nodded. “I love you, Maya.”

  “I love you, too, girl. Now get yourself together before you have me out here crying,” she teased.

  The two of them shared a laugh before settling back in to enjoy the day together.

  * * *

  Despite repeated attempts to calm his nerves, Xavier found himself pacing the floor of the office at Revels. Around him, the center bustled with the noise and activity typical of any autumn Monday. But something very atypical was about to take place in about thirty minutes, when detectives from RPD would show up to question several of his mentees.

  One of the kids scheduled to be questioned was Trent. When Xavier had called Trent’s mother, Stacy, she’d been stoic as ever as she promised to accompany her son to the center at the appointed time. Despite her manner, Xavier had detected the sadness and frustration in her voice.

  By the time Xavier escorted the detectives, parents, and the small group of kids upstairs to one of the vacant classrooms, he’d managed to tamp down his agitation to a degree. Both the detectives were white men and over forty if Xavier’s guess was correct. In a situation like this, he needed to set a good example for the kids in how to handle stress. Aside from that, he knew better than to appear hostile or otherwise suspicious around police officers. As a black male growing up in the South, he’d dealt with that reality his entire life.

  In the hallway, Xavier spoke briefly with the detectives. “You can conduct your interviews in this room. I’ll wait with the other kids and parents in the classroom next door.”

  One of the stern-faced detectives gave Xavier a stiff nod of acknowledgment. The other detective said, “Thanks.”

  Ignoring the prickling discomfort that ran down his back, Xavier took the parents and kids into an adjacent classroom. The room was used as a study hall for the center’s patrons and had the traditional classroom setup. Everyone took a seat, with Xavier at the big desk in the front of the room and the others sitting in the smaller desks positioned around the space. Xavier kept to his seat, remaining quiet as the two detectives called the kids into the other classroom one by one. Each young man went in with only his parents, if any were present. Of the five boys that had been chosen for questioning, four guardians had made themselves available. One of the boys, sixteen-year-old Peter “P-Dawg” Goings, had no guardian show up to accompany him. Xavier had tried to reach out to someone in the household but had had all his calls go unanswered. Three of the boys were interviewed in succession, one with his mother, another with his father, and the last with his grandmother.

  As Trent and Stacy went in with the detectives, Xavier held his breath. He could see the budding intelligence and immense promise in Trent, and he hoped and prayed the boy hadn’t been involved in the break-in. To keep himself from pacing the hallway, Xavier returned to the chair behind the big oak desk and planted himself on the seat.

  Only Xavier and Peter remained in the study hall room, which meant Peter would be interviewed last. Peter stood by one of the old, wood-framed windows, gazing out at the gray evening sky. Xavier sensed the young man wasn’t feeling part
icularly chatty, so he kept quiet. He knew it wasn’t his job to press the kids. All he could do was make himself available to them, so they could talk to him on their own terms.

  In the silence, he listened to see if he could hear any of what was transpiring in the next room. The old building, with its brick construction, had withstood over fifty years of use. That made the place great for longevity but terrible for eavesdropping. He could only make out a few muffled sounds. He thought he heard Stacy crying but couldn’t tell for certain.

  When the interview finally concluded, Xavier had his answer as he viewed Stacy’s tearstained face.

  He stepped into the hallway, and when he saw the handcuffs binding Trent’s wrists behind his back, his heart sank. “What’s going on?”

  The more talkative of the two detectives answered. “We’re taking young Mr. Holmes in for additional questioning after we’ve spoken to Mr. Goings.”

  Xavier looked to Trent, saw the boy’s stoic manner. He had to know what was going on. “Trent, what did you tell them?”

  Stacy answered for her son. “He confessed to the break-in. They know he didn’t do it alone, but he won’t say who else was with him.” The bewilderment and sadness she felt were evident in her tone.

  Xavier shot a look at Trent. “Is that true? Why would you do that?”

  Trent’s frowning lips parted. “I ain’t no snitch, man.”

  Touching his fingertips to his temple, Xavier took a deep breath. “Are you telling me you’d rather do time than be a snitch?”

  Trent said nothing—just cast his eyes downward.

  The saltier detective cleared his throat, looked toward Peter. “Do you have anything to say, Mr. Goings?”

  Barely turning his attention from the window, Peter groused, “No.”

  Stacy demanded, “Peter! If you were a part of this, you’d better speak up. My son shouldn’t have to go down for this alone.”

  Peter shrugged, his eyes downcast. “Whatever, man.”

  Xavier bristled, turned serious eyes on the detective. “Why don’t you just level with me? I’m sure you’ve probably got fingerprints and who knows what else on the culprits.”

  By now, the detective was crossing the room toward Peter. “You’re right. We just wanted to see if young Mr. Goings would admit his involvement.”

  Xavier could see it all now. There was always a method to this sort of thing. It became clear why Trent and Peter had been interviewed last. The police already had what they needed to bring them in; this whole setup had likely been some sort of Scared Straight attempt at keeping the other boys on the straight and narrow. Xavier shook his head, folding his arms over his chest as he watched Peter get his own set of iron bracelets.

  Peter cursed, rolled his eyes. “Damn, Trent! Now you got us both in trouble.”

  Trent, still standing there in handcuffs, responded with tears in his eyes. “P-Dawg, c’mon, man! I didn’t say anything. I swear!”

  Peter said nothing else, just let his jaw fall into a hard, defiant set as he was guided toward the corridor.

  The detective leading Trent joined his partner. “We’re going to have to continue this downtown.”

  “Oh, we’re going to.” Xavier had been trained all his life to de-escalate, but he wouldn’t just give this guy the okeydokey. Not now, not when it came to his kids.

  Xavier fell into step behind the detectives as they escorted the kids into the hallway, with the still weeping Stacy in tow. He couldn’t remember the staircase ever seeming this narrow and confining before, and he attributed it to the mood of the moment. He worked his ass off to keep these kids out of trouble, to give them an alternative to getting caught up in the streets. This time, his efforts had proven inadequate.

  As the somber procession reached the first floor, all activity stopped. Games were paused, conversations dropped off, and all eyes turned to watch Trent and Peter being led away in handcuffs, Trent’s mother and Xavier on their tail.

  In the parking lot, Trent and Peter were loaded into the back of a patrol car and closed in.

  Stacy stepped forward. “I’m going with him. You’re not taking my son anywhere without me.”

  “You can follow us in your car, ma’am.” One of the detectives shut the rear doors of the squad car. As Stacy climbed into her older model sedan, Xavier approached the window. He made a gesture with his hands, forming it into a phone to let her know to call him. She nodded and followed the patrol car as it drove away.

  Xavier stood there in the cold until the taillights of Stacy’s car faded from sight. Then he grabbed his phone from his pants pocket, dialing Tyrone’s number.

  When his friend and campaign manager answered the call, Xavier said, “I’m going to need some legal advice.”

  Tyrone laughed. “What have you done?”

  Xavier kept his hard gaze fixed on the horizon, wishing things could have been different this time. “It’s not for me. It’s for two of the kids at the center.”

  Tyrone’s tone turned serious. “Then let’s talk.”

  Xavier gave him a brief summary of the day’s events. When he’d finished, he asked, “What can we do?”

  Tyrone cleared his throat. “Because of their ages, the boys will land in the North Carolina juvenile justice system. That’s not really my area of expertise, but I’ve got a friend who can help us out.”

  “At a low rate, I hope.” Xavier knew Stacy didn’t have the resources to pay for her son’s defense, and no one from Peter’s household had even bothered to show up. He’d offer up some of his personal funds without hesitation, if it came down to that.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll work something out.” Tyrone was already on his computer, typing, the sound of the keystrokes being picked up by his phone’s speaker.

  “Keep me posted, man. I’m headed downtown to see what I can find out.”

  “I’ll call you back as soon as I get in contact with him.”

  “Cool. Thanks, Ty.”

  “Hey, man. I got your back. Thetas stick together.” Tyrone’s smile registered in the tone of his voice.

  Taking a deep breath, Xavier disconnected the call. When he exhaled, creating a cloud of steam on the cold night air, he fished his keys out of his pocket. Then he ducked his head inside the door to let Tori know he was leaving.

  With a promise to keep the center staff updated on what was happening with the boys, he climbed into his truck and drove off.

  Chapter 10

  “Mom, I’ll have to call you back. The clinic is slammed today.”

  Speed-walking down the corridor of Grant Dermatology, Imani tried again to get her mother to disengage. For some reason, Alma was feeling particularly chatty today.

  “Okay, baby. I’ll tell you the rest of the story later.” Alma’s tone held a hint of humor.

  “Can’t wait. Love you. Bye, Mama.” Balancing the phone to her ear with her shoulder, Imani shifted the patient files in her hands, so she could open the door to her office.

  “Bye, sweetie.”

  Alma disconnected the call as Imani slid into her office, kicking the door shut behind her. Setting the patient files down on top of her new solid mahogany desk, she checked the wall clock. Ten twenty a.m. She grimaced at the thought of the jam-packed two hours standing between her and a lunch break. As things stood, she had about ten minutes to catch her breath before her next patient came in.

  Next to the wall clock hung her nature scenes calendar, and glancing at it reminded her again of today’s date: October 20. Today would have been her father’s sixty-eighth birthday. Today, more than any other day of the year, she missed her father and wished those young men who’d robbed his hardware store on that fateful day had made a different choice, a better choice.

  She drew in a deep breath and sank into her desk chair. Grabbing a tissue from the box atop her desk, she dabbed at her damp brow. A
ll the running she’d been doing this morning had her feeling pretty warm—almost warm enough to ditch her medical coat. The professional code dictated she keep the coat on, sweltering though it might be. To give herself a little relief, she opened the buttons securing the front and flapped the open halves back and forth, generating a breeze. When she felt a bit cooler, she let her head drop back against the headrest and closed her eyes.

  The blissful calm lasted only a minute or two before a knock on her office door snapped her back to reality.

  Unable to keep the weariness out of her voice, she called, “Come in.”

  Maya stuck her head in the door. “There’s a Miss Cates here to see you.”

  Confusion knit her brow. “My next appointment is with Mrs. Neilson.”

  “I know. Miss Cates doesn’t have an appointment. She just wants to speak with you. She promised to be brief.”

  Imani didn’t recognize the woman’s name and had no idea what she might want, since she wasn’t a current patient. “Can it wait? We’re swamped today.”

  “I know that, too, and she says it can’t wait.”

  “And you’re sure she’s not a pharmaceutical rep or somebody trying to sell me something?”

  Maya nodded and watched her, waiting for a response.

  Imani looked at the wall clock again. “Okay, but I’ll need her to say what she has to say in five minutes or less.”

  Maya disappeared, then returned with a petite brown-skinned woman wearing a black sweatshirt and dark denim jeans.

  When Imani invited the woman into the office, she took slow steps, as if she were nervous or afraid.

  “Hello, Ms. Cates. What can I do for you?”

  The woman swallowed. “Hello, my name is Stacy Cates. My son, Trent, was arrested for being involved in the break-in here last week.”

  Imani felt her brow furrow. She’d heard from the police about Trent and about their knowledge that he hadn’t acted alone. “Yes, the police mentioned him to me. Has he turned in any of his accomplices?”