The Safe House Page 23

  Two minutes into the drive, Agent Sims tried to spark up a conversation. “You have gotten yourself into a whole lot of trouble since I last saw you.”

  “Is that a question? Or a statement?” I asked.

  “It’s a little bit of both. I mean, you did manage to kill your ex-boyfriend, get in the middle of a shoot-out, and become a suspect in the murder of your next-door neighbor. . . ,” he said, letting those statements hang in the air for me to either confess or debate. Instead, I gave him a bland comeback: “Trouble always seems to find me.”

  “You know we’re gonna have to turn you over to the local homicide detectives, once we are done with you?”

  “Is there a way that you could work out a deal with them, considering that I’m gonna help you guys with the federal case?”

  “They’re gonna charge you with murder, so there’s no way that they will cut a deal with us. That’s not our jurisdiction.”

  “Come on now, Sims. I know you can do something,” I pressed him. I needed some help, and he was the only person I had access to who had any leverage.

  “Do you realize that you killed a guy?” he asked again, trying to get me on the charge.

  I was tired of pretending, so I finally responded, “Do you realize that I was only trying to defend myself? Terrell was abusive to me. I had a restraining order against him and he violated it on numerous occasions. It was either kill him or be killed.”

  “I’m sure that if you tell the detectives what you just told me, they’ll probably be lenient with you.”

  “ ‘Lenient,’ my ass! Those crackers downtown are gonna try to put me behind bars for the rest of my life. That’s why I’m gonna need you to put in a good word for me. If you don’t, then I’m gonna be up shit’s creek.”

  “I can’t make you any promises, but I will see what I can do.”

  For the rest of the drive, silence filled the air. Agent Sims saved the rest of his lip service until after we entered the holding tank of the jail.

  “I’ve got a female that needs to be processed,” Agent Sims told the female officer sitting behind a counter.

  “Put her in cell three,” the officer instructed him.

  “Will do. Thank you,” he replied, and escorted me to the nearby cell.

  While we were walking toward the cell, he said, “See, if you would’ve done what I told you to do, you wouldn’t be in this situation. All you needed to do was testify in the drug case and you would’ve been scot-free.”

  “Look, I know all of that. Can we move past that and help me make my current situation better?”

  “I told you, I can’t make any promises.”

  “Well, would you at least try?”

  “I’ll see,” he assured me.

  He and I stood in front of the cell he’d been directed to take me to. I didn’t want to go in, so I kept giving him an expectant stare, like I was waiting for a better answer. Instead, he insisted, “Here we are,” and tried to wave me into the cell.

  “So I guess this is it, huh?”

  “Another agent and I will be picking you up in the morning, so try to get a good night’s rest.”

  “Tell me, who gets rest while they’re behind bars?”

  “I wish I had the answer to that question,” he replied as he took the handcuffs off me.

  Immediately after he put the cuffs in the leather pouch next to his gun, he instructed me to step back so that he could close the door of the cell. “See you in the morning,” he said.

  I sucked my teeth and said, “Yeah, whatever!” Then I took a seat on the metal bench.

  There was one other person in the cell with me, a woman who looked like she was around my age. But she looked like she’d had a hard life. And she looked like she hadn’t had a decent amount of sleep in a long time. It was plain to see that she was a drug addict.

  “What they got you in here for?” she asked.

  “Murder.”

  “Damn, girl, you’re hard-core. You don’t look like you could harm a fly.”

  “It was done in self-defense.”

  The woman chuckled. “That’s what we all say.”

  “Who did you kill?”

  “My ex-boyfriend.”

  How was she in here for the same thing as me? This was crazy. “Well, you ain’t gotta worry about him cheating on you while you’re in here,” I joked.

  “You got family in the streets that gonna help you while you’re in here?”

  “My mother. I’m hoping that I get bond so she can bail me out.” I didn’t think it was possible with my extra charges, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “Oh naw, sweetheart, there’s no magistrate in this place that’s gonna give you bond.”

  “If I tell ’em that I did what I did in self-defense, then I’m sure they’ll give me one.”

  “Good luck wit that! Because the people in here are racist as fuck! After they process you, you belong to them. They ain’t gonna do shit for you. If you’re sick, then you might as well deal with it on your own. Their food is nasty. The CO’s got a bad attitude. The women in here love fighting. They will steal from you and the whole bit. So keep your eyes open at all times,” she warned me.

  The whole idea of possibly looking over my shoulders the entire time I was locked up alarmed me. I didn’t want to live like that. I couldn’t believe that I recently was about to start a new job in another pharmacy, but ended up dragged into this. Damn! I just can’t catch a break.

  After finally getting processed, I had to change into an orange jumpsuit and shower shoes. I was led up to the area in the jail where I was going to remain until all of my court cases were resolved. I felt defeated. This wasn’t where I was supposed to be.

  EPILOGUE

  While I was in federal custody, I had to testify against Sanjay’s brother and a couple of others I had witnessed coming into the pharmacy when I worked there. In exchange for my cooperation, Agent Sims offered my mother witness protection, but she refused to go. I ended up with nothing.

  When the trial ended, everyone connected to the drug ring received sentences from forty years to life in federal prison. The two little girls that got caught up in the mix were returned to family members that weren’t a part of the ring. And even though they were in the custody of family, I knew they’d always remember what happened to their mother and grandmother that terrifying night.

  And as soon as the government used me up, they turned me over to the local homicide cops and I was transferred to a local county jail. My mother hired a lawyer to help with my defense, but that didn’t help any. I was sentenced to twenty years in prison for the murder of my ex-boyfriend, Terrell Mason.

  I had a few choice words for the judge after she threw the book at me. “How the hell can you sentence me to twenty years when I was defending myself? He was abusive to me and he violated all of my protective orders.”

  And she responded, “I’m not giving you twenty years for murder. I’m giving you twenty years for having his body chopped up and his remains discarded like he was an animal.”

  “No disrespect, Your Honor, but he was an animal. And he got what he deserved.” When I uttered those words, all his family and friends screamed and shouted obscenities at me, so the court deputies hurried up and ushered me out of the courtroom.

  I was transferred to a state prison and I came to the realization that it wasn’t all that bad. I figured that if I survived all of what I’d gone through prior to this, then doing a twenty-year bid should be a cakewalk. Thankfully, I was taken to a state prison that was only two hours from where my mother now resided. She ended up selling her house and moving. I was happy about that because I was concerned about her safety. Now she was able to see me every other month. Our relationship had gotten so much better. And I was finally in a place where I didn’t have to look over my shoulders. I could concentrate on serving my time in peace. Who knows? I might get out of prison sooner than everyone thinks.

  STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT IN
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br />   THE BLACK MARKET SERIES

  Prisoner of the State

  DON’T MISS

  The Black Market

  Kiki Swinson’s bestselling novels burn with extraordinary characters, triple-down twists—and a raw portrait of Southern life only she can deliver. Now she turns up the heat as a young woman cashes in on a sure thing—only to find some addictions are always killer . . .

  Enjoy the following excerpt from The Black Market . . .

  1

  MISTY

  I’d been in this world too long to just now be finding my way. But here I was, feeling grateful and shit about being healthy and having a roof over my head, thanks to the steady pay from my latest employer.

  For the last five and a half months, I’d been collecting a check working as a pharmacy tech. The job was easy and my boss, Dr. Sanjay Malik, was a dream to work with. Not only was he a nice guy, he was very generous with the monthly bonuses he paid me and he would occasionally let me get off work early. The bonuses were for the extra work I did delivering prescriptions to senior citizens who weren’t mobile or couldn’t pick up their medication. Sanjay would have me deliver their meds to them, and after I completed the deliveries, he usually told me to take off work for the rest of the day, which I found awesome.

  But three weeks ago, I noticed that Sanjay had me delivering meds to dark and questionable neighborhoods. I never said anything to him about it because who was I? And what was I going to get out of questioning him? He owned this place, which meant that he could fire my ass on the spot. So, I left well enough alone and minded my own damn business.

  Sanjay wasn’t aware of this, but I’d taken a few pills here and there for my cousin Jillian. Jillian got into a bad car accident over a year ago and hadn’t fully recovered from it. Her doctor cut off her prescription meds six months ago, so I stepped in and threw a few pills at her when I was able to get my hands on some.

  The first time, I stole two Percocet pills and two Vicodin pills. Each time I stole from the pharmacy, I took a few more pills. My nerves used to be on edge for about a day after each time I pocketed those pills, but since cops never showed up to cuff me, I knew Sanjay hadn’t figured out I’d been stealing from him. I hoped he never would.

  As soon as I walked into the pharmacy, I noticed that there were only three customers waiting for their prescriptions. I said good morning to everyone waiting as I walked behind the counter, clocked in, and went to work.

  It didn’t take long for Sanjay and I to ready those customers’ prescriptions and get them on their way. After ringing up the last customer, I turned to Sanjay. “We got any deliveries?” I asked him while I searched through our online refill requests.

  “I think we have six or maybe seven,” he replied, before turning to answer the phone.

  Sanjay was a handsome man. He resembled Janet Jackson’s billionaire ex-husband. But unlike Janet Jackson’s ex, Sanjay wasn’t wealthy, at least to my knowledge. He owned this little pharmacy on the city limits of Virginia Beach, near Pembroke Mall. There was nothing fancy about the place, just your basic small business. But I often wondered why this doctor, who was doing well enough to own this place and have employees like me, wasn’t married? From time to time I’d jokingly tell him that I was going to set him up with one of my friends. And his response would always be, “Oh, no. Believe me, I am fine. Women require too much.”

  Not too long after I started working here, he told me that his family was from Cairo, Egypt. From the way he talked about their homes and travel, I knew they were doing well for themselves. He also told me that education was a big deal in his country. And arranged marriages too.

  “Think I could get me a man over in Cairo?” I’d teased. But his answer had no humor in it.

  “You wouldn’t want a husband from my country, because the men are very strict and the women they marry are disciplined. The things you say and do here in the US wouldn’t be tolerated where I’m from.”

  Damn! “Yeah, whatever, Sanjay!” I’d chuckled.

  Working at Sanjay’s pharmacy was fairly easy. Time would go by fast. The first half of the day, it would be somewhat busy, and after two p.m. the traffic would die down. This was when I’d take my lunch break. If I didn’t bring in my lunch from home, I’d leave the pharmacy and walk over to the food court in Pembroke Mall. This day was one of those days.

  “I’m going to lunch, Sanjay. Want anything from Pembroke Mall?” I asked him.

  “No, I’m fine. But thank you,” he replied.

  I walked over to the computer, clocked out, and then I left the building. On my way out, I ran into Sanjay’s brother, Amir. As usual, he said nothing to me.

  I’d always found it odd that Amir would stop by to see Sanjay during my lunch break. And if I was there when Amir walked into the pharmacy, Sanjay would send me on my lunch break or even send me home for the rest of the day. Now, I wasn’t complaining because I loved when he let me leave work early, but at the same time, there aren’t any coincidences. Something wasn’t right with that guy and I knew it.

  Sanjay had spoken to me about his brother, but I didn’t know much. He lived close by and was married with three children. And just like Sanjay, Amir was also very handsome. But Amir never said a word to me. If I hadn’t heard Amir greet Sanjay, I’d wonder if he could speak at all. He’d wave at me when he’d come and go, but that was it. I never asked Sanjay how old his brother was because you could clearly see that Amir was younger. He was never flashy. He always wore a pair of casual pants and a regular button-down shirt. He had the look of a car salesman.

  I grabbed some Chinese food from the food court in the mall and then I took a seat at one of the tables near one of the mall’s exits. While I was eating, I got a call from my cousin Jillian. Her father and my mother are siblings. My uncle committed suicide when we were kids, so she lived with her mother until she turned eighteen. From there she’d been back and forth from having her own apartment to sleeping under our grandmother’s roof. Jillian was a pretty, twenty-six-year-old, full-figured woman. She wasn’t the brightest when it came to picking the men in her life, but she had a good heart and that’s all that mattered to me.

  She’d barely said hello before she asked, “Think you can bring me a couple of Percocets on your way home?”

  “Jillian, not today,” I griped.

  “You’re acting like I’m asking you to bring me a pill bottle of ’em,” Jillian protested. “And besides, you know I don’t ask you unless I really need them.”

  I let out a long sigh and said, “I’m gonna bring you only two. And that’s it.”

  “Thank you,” Jillian said with excitement.

  “Yeah, whatever. You’re such a spoiled brat,” I told her.

  “So. What are you doing?”

  “Sitting in the food court of Pembroke Mall, eating some Chinese food.”

  “What time do you get off today?”

  “I think I’m gonna leave at about seven since it’s Saturday.”

  “Has it been busy today?”

  “Kinda . . . sorta,” I replied between each chew.

  “So, what are you doing after work?”

  “Terrell has been harassing me, talking about he wants to see me,” I told her. Terrell was my on-and-off-again boyfriend.

  “That sounds so boring.”

  “What do you want me to do, sit around all day like you and get high off prescription drugs?” I said sarcastically.

  “Oh, Misty, that was a low blow. You know I don’t do this shit for fun. If I don’t take those drugs I’m going to be in serious pain.”

  “Look, I know you need ’em, so I’m going to get off your back. But from time to time, you do ask me for more than you should have.”

  “That’s because I be trying to make a few dollars here and there. Oh, and speaking of which, I got a business proposition for you.”

  “What is it now?”

  “I got a homeboy that will pay top dollar for twenty to twenty-five Vicodin pills.�
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  “Jillian, are you freaking crazy?! There’s no way in hell that I’m going to be able to get that many pills at one time.”

  “He’s paying four hundred dollars. But I’m gonna have to get my cut off the top, which would be a hundred.”

  I sighed. “Jillian, I’m not doing it.”

  “Come on, Misty, stop being paranoid. You can do it,” Jillian whined.

  “Do you want me to lose my job?”

  “Of course not. But you’re acting like you’ve never taken drugs from your job before.”

  “Look, I’m not doing it. Case closed.”

  “Just think about it.” Jillian pressed the issue, but I ignored her.

  I changed the subject. “Is Grandma home?”

  “She’s in the laundry room folding clothes.”

  “Did she say she was cooking dinner?”

  “Yeah, she’s got a pot roast in the oven.”

  “Save some for me,” I told Jillian.

  “You know I will.”

  I changed the subject again. “You still talking to Edmund?”

  “I just got off the phone with his frugal ass!”

  I chuckled. “What has he refused to pay for now?”

  “I asked him to order me a pizza online and he told me that he ain’t have any money.”

  “Doesn’t he own and operate a janitorial business?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then he shouldn’t be broke,” I said. “Look, just leave that fool alone. You give him too much pussy for him to not feed you.”

  “I know, right!” she agreed. But I read her like a book because as soon as we got off the phone with one another, I knew she’d call that selfish-ass nigga and act like her stomach wasn’t growling.

  She and I talked for another ten minutes or so about her finding another job instead of sitting on her ass all day, crying about how much pain she’s in. It seemed like my grandmother let her ride with that lame-ass excuse, but I knew better. My grandmother knew exactly what was going on, but looked the other way because she enjoyed Jillian’s company and she didn’t want to be alone in that big house. Jillian had a free ride any way you looked at it.