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“I’ll go wit’ her,” Brandy said.
“That probably won’t be a good idea, Brandy. It would probably look less threatening and less suspicious if one person went,” said Kid.
They felt he was right.
Eshon sighed and nodded. “I’ll play her cousin, just in case she’s there and they let her know.”
“Look concerned and let them know that her whole family is worried about her because she was supposed to be at that club and she hasn’t returned home yet. Play the worried family member,” The Kid said. “We need to find her and keep track of her.”
Eshon nodded.
With so many bodies under the rubble, it could be days until an exact death toll was announced and the dead were identified. The NYPD and the feds had a lot on their hands. There was so much to do, and everyone was watching.
For a split second, Eshon and Brandy noticed how Kid was giving them good ideas, and how at certain moments he sounded like his brother. It was strange. He was the same, but they couldn’t help but think that there was something slightly different about him.
The Kid had to catch himself from giving out orders. It was supposed to be Devon’s job. But he couldn’t help himself; things were critical. He also noticed how Eshon and Brandy were looking at him. Maybe he had said too much.
7
The cab inched through the Holland tunnel. Going into the city from New Jersey was nothing but continuous brake lights and bumper-to-bumper traffic. There was a checkpoint at the exit, and Eshon sighed heavily and cursed.
The driver, a bushy-haired Caucasian foreigner, sighed too and glanced at Eshon through his rearview mirror. “The city is a mess today. There was some bombing last night at a nightclub. It’s all over the news. I tell you, these damn terrorists, they just need to strap them all to a nuclear missile and send them off into space and blow them up. Show these idiots what a real explosion looks like.”
Eshon wasn’t in the mood for a conversation. The faster she got things over with, the better. She rolled her eyes at him because the last thing she wanted was a talkative cab driver while they sat in heavy traffic. She had a lot on her mind. Eshon had no idea what would transpire. What if Jessica was already with Maserati Meek and telling him everything? The last thing Eshon wanted was to be in the crosshairs of a ruthless terrorist. And with Kip dead, their leadership was shaky. She’d believed in Kip, but Devon was a different story.
It took nearly two hours to arrive at the 1st Precinct on Ericsson Place. It was a madhouse outside the precinct; cops, including Emergency Service Units, were everywhere. Security had been beefed up. With the city on red alert, paranoia had set in, and downtown looked like almost like a warzone with the military-like police vehicles parked everywhere. Eshon paid the driver and climbed out of the cab into a sea of chaos. She was in the same red and white dress she had worn to the nightclub, but she looked disheveled—it had been a very long night. She wanted to look inconspicuous, but her outfit stood out to some extent.
She walked into the building where everyone was uptight, angry, rude, and scared. It was crowded—lots of arrests and people wanting answers on whether it was a bomb or gas leak. The media said it was a suicide bombing, but there were some people saying that it wasn’t. Everything was scrambled. The mayor would address the tragic situation this afternoon. He would stand in front of City Hall and try to appease the panic ensuing in his city. He would also state if it was a terrorist attack or not. His city needed answers.
Eshon walked toward the desk sergeant, and she wasn’t the only one. His area was swamped with folks. People were talking over each other, and question after question was thrown his way. Eshon made her way toward the sergeant with a question of her own.
“I’m lookin’ for my cousin. Is she here?” she shouted.
Numerous folks were searching for someone, and they were waiting for answers. Who was responsible for last night’s explosion? Would there be more deaths? What were the police doing about it? Were they safe?
“People look, not now!” the sergeant screamed.
“But I’m lookin’ for my cousin, she was—” Eshon didn’t get to finish.
The sergeant glared at her and shouted, “I can’t help you right now! You need to wait like everyone else! And I’m a sergeant, not an officer! You see the gotdamn stripes, lady?”
She frowned. She would have to wait patiently like the others. Cops made her nervous, but she remained unruffled. She found a long bench near a narrow hallway and planted her behind into a seat, next to other civilians at the precinct for similar reasons. She had one task to do, and she was determined to do it. Her life was on the line.
As Eshon sat and waited, looking at the comings and goings of cops and people in such a cramped area, she pulled out her cell phone to text Devon.
I’m here. Shit is crazy right now.
Looking around, Eshon knew it was going to be a long day for her. It was also an emotional one. She had no breakfast, she was alone, and the precinct reeked badly of every odor imaginable. An hour went by, then another hour, and she still sat there waiting. Eshon wasn’t about to see the third hour go by without any results.
It was getting ugly in the atrium of the 1st Precinct. An altercation broke out between the sergeant and an irritated citizen. A man was angry because they had arrested his brother, and he wanted to know why. The sergeant lashed out at the man, but this person wasn’t taking no for an answer. He didn’t want to be shooed like some pesky pigeon in a park.
“Where is my fuckin’ brother?” he had cursed.
“Sir, you need to calm down and have a seat,” the sergeant replied.
“Don’t tell me to calm down! Y’all muthafuckas arrested my brother for no fuckin’ reason! He ain’t do shit! We ain’t fuckin’ Muslim, muthafucka. We gonna sue this fuckin’ place! Racial discrimination, nigga!”
“I’m not gonna tell you again. Have a seat,” the sergeant warned.
