“I don’t think she was working the streets for Tyrone. I think she was working on something else for him. Like I said, under the table.”
God. What did that mean? “Was she a drug mule?” She’d done it before.
Ricky shook his head. “Don’t think so.”
This was going in circles. “Was there a guy in her life? Somebody new?”
“Yeah.” Ricky leveled his gaze on hers. “She got off on letting me know she was moving on to bigger and better things. Apparently, she misjudged her worth.”
Again, CJ let the comment slide. She didn’t want to argue with him. She wanted answers. “Do you know who the guy was?”
“Matter of fact, I do.” He smirked. “She had herself a cop.”
Tension prodded CJ’s instincts. “Was she dating this cop?” The only cop she was aware her sister ever talked to was Braddock. Dread welled inside CJ. Images from last night elbowed their way into her head, turning the sickening dread into something far more painful.
Ricky shrugged. “Maybe. Mostly she was playing him. Or he was playing her.”
“Can you spell that out, please?” Jesus Christ. Couldn’t he just give her a straight answer? But then, maybe she already knew the answer. God, if she found out Braddock had ...
He wouldn’t do that—not again. Shelley wouldn’t have ... surely she wouldn’t have.
“I don’t know. But they were up to something. You should ask him if he knocked her up.”
“Do you know this cop’s name?” she asked, just in case it was someone else. It had to be someone else.
“Sure. You’ve met him already. It’s Braddock. Asshole,” Ricky muttered, then downed another slug of bourbon. “He’ll get his. Soon, at the rate he’s going.”
“If you ...” She had to get out of here. She had to think. Then she was going to find Braddock and demand some answers. Or maybe she would kick the shit out of him just on principle. Report him to his chief. Something! “If you think of anything else, will you let me know?”
Ricky plopped the bottle of bourbon on the counter. “I know she was your sister and all, but she’s dead. You can’t bring her back. Why you doing this? You gotta know you’re stumbling around in hazardous territory.”
“I have to do this. I’m not letting her killer evade justice the way my father’s killer did.” CJ looked him square in the eye, tried to read his reaction.
Ricky moved his head side to side, heaved a big breath. The smell of bourbon had her holding her breath.
“You did something most around here couldn’t manage.” Resignation cluttered his expression. “You got out. Escaped. What the hell you doing taking this risk? Go back to Baltimore, CJ. You don’t belong here no more. That’s the other side of the coin, girl. Most of these people”—he gestured magnanimously—“spend their whole lives trying to get out but can’t. You got out. Good for you. But you can’t come back. You ain’t one of us no more.”
CJ should have thanked him for answering her questions. But she couldn’t. She had to get out of there. His words kept echoing around her.
You don’t belong here no more.
Chapter Eighteen
3021 Appleton Street, 5:05 p.m.
The door opened after his first knock. Braddock sized up CJ’s state of mind in one glance. Outraged.
Whatever Banks had said to her, she was not happy. She’d called Braddock’s cell phone the instant she walked away from the meeting with the scumbag. Obviously the discussion had included Braddock, and whatever the result, it wasn’t good.
“Come in, Detective.” She left him at the door and took a seat on the sofa.
Detective, notBraddock. Oh yeah, she was not happy. He stepped inside, closed the door. “You said you had new information.” He doubted anything Banks had told her would be earth-shattering. Just more bullshit.
“Please”—she indicated a chair—“sit.”
He sat in the chair closest to her position on the sofa, then waited. After all, she’d called him.
As much as he wanted to pretend he wasn’t mentally braced on the edge of his chair, he was. After last night, he wasn’t sure about anything except to expect the unexpected.
