Page 70 of They Never Tell


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“I hear you, Dad. I really do. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Iwasn’tthinking.”

Joe shook his head. “I’m about to lose it. I’m pissed at you, I’m pissed at her…I don’t know who to hurt first. I really don’t.”

Iesha touched her husband’s shoulder. “I talked to Candace. She said we can file the civil suit whenever we want, but here’s the thing we gotta figure out: is punishing her worth the hit Bakari might take? Yes, he was the victim, but some people aren’t gonna see it that way. How will it look to colleges? To scouts?”

Joe went back to pacing. “I want that bitch finished. I really do.”

“So do I, Joe, believe me. But it might not be worth it.”

Bakari was scared to jump in, but he felt it was only right since he was the topic of conversation. “So if we sue her, will everybody find out what I did?”

“They might,” his mother said.

“I don’t want anybody to know about this,” he said. He would die if Danielle found out. “I’m willing to let this go if she is.”

Iesha said nothing, but her eyes said more than words ever could. Bloodshot and rimmed with tears, they had lost their brightness. When she looked at him lately, he didn’t see pride anymore. Just fear.

His father, on the other hand…well, Joe surprised him. He sat on the arm of the couch and turned to Bakari. “You’re about to be 18. I don’t consider that grown, but the government does, so…I have to respect you wanting to make decisions for yourself. I don’t agree with it, but I respect it. I canlearnto respect it,” he corrected himself.

“Are you serious?” Bakari said.

“I don’t have any other choice. I gotta let you live your life. I can’t live it for you, much as I’d like to.” He took a deep breath. “We all make mistakes. I’ve made plenty. I’m hard on you because I don’t want you to make the mistakes I’ve made. I want you to be a better man than me. That’s all.”

“I understand.”

“Come here,” Joe said, and Bakari jumped up and tackled his father like it was a Friday night on the field. Iesha laughed through her tears and waited for them to stop rolling around. When her two men sat up, she sat between them and hugged them both to her, and that’s where they all stayed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Webbandhisteamarrived at the Gordon home on a Saturday morning. The warrant granted them the ability to search the house, any other buildings or structures on the property, any cars owned by the homeowners, and whatever land was within the boundaries of the lot.

It had taken a bit of finessing to get probable cause to search. Ms. Yolanda Bridges had clammed right up the moment she realized he was calling about her son, not her ex-husband. Apparently, she hated the man so much, she had switched back to her maiden name after the divorce. But she loved her son and had nothing but good things to say. She’d been angry that Webb got information out of her before she had a chance to lie.

Jace had been the only one home when they arrived, but within ten minutes of their arrival, the father came home demanding to see the warrant and insisting his attorney would put a stop to this. Will must have explained the facts of life to him during their phone call, because the elder Gordon quickly calmed down and got the hell out of their way.

The boy sat in the corner of the garage and fingered the keys on his trumpet. It struck the detectives as odd. He didn’t seem affected. Hell, he barely seemed present at all. His eyes were glassy, and he was almost in a trance-like state.

The boy’s father, on the other hand, was clearly affected. He couldn’t watch every officer at the same time, so he flitted about, walking from one room to the next, complaining and criticizing.

He had been especially belligerent about his music room. “Don’t touch nothin’ in here. I’d be happy to lift or turn over whatever y’all want me to, but I have to insist that you people respect this space. It’s sacred.”

Webb looked around and understood immediately. There were quite a few items in the room that looked to be priceless. A gold album plaque. A glass display case with a well-preserved vintage Victrola inside. Several jazz records in their original sleeves. And walls full of beautiful poster-sized shots of various bands marching down the field. Although he was impressed, he simply laughed and shook his head. “This search warrant insists harder that you let us do our job, otherwise we can arrest you for interfering with an investigation. Sorry about that, boss,” he’d said with a smile.

Dr. Gordon had no choice but to oblige them. Instead of meddling, he busied himself in the backyard picking weeds by hand. Little Jazz, their Frenchie, ran this way and that, and Webb noted that her coat was golden brown. They would surely find more loose hair to collect, so there was no need to bother the dog.

“Webb! Come here for a second!” Ackerman called from the basement. Webb took his eyes off the dog and made his way downstairs, where he was greeted by a confused Ackerman and a patrol officer named Pete Dennigan.

“What’s up? Did you find something?”

“Yeah.”

It was cluttered like all basements tend to be, with a faint moldy smell and water spots on the unfinished basement walls. A hodgepodge of vinyl tiles of different sizes and colors blanketed the floor. The place needed work, but Webb didn’t have time to focus on that. He stood in front of the thing and saw exactly what was so confusing to the guys.

“What the hell is this?” he asked.

Pete shook his head, a disgusted look on his face. “It’s a mannequin with a fake pregnant belly. Prosthetic, I think they call it.”

“Weird,” he said, but that was the extent of his reaction. He’d been to a basement with an actual dungeon full of chains and human waste. He’d been inside a crawl space full of dead animal carcasses that were wearing jewelry. Once, they found an actual living human in a cage in someone’s garage. A pregnant mannequin only registered about a one on the weird scale.

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