Before She Disappeared

CHAPTER 35

LiLi,” Emmanuel is gasping. “She just called. I heard screaming. She was screaming. ‘No, no, no.’ Then, ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry.’ But not to me, like she was talking to someone else. I think she had the phone tucked away, where they couldn’t see it. But then there was this huge boom. I didn’t understand. I started yelling her name. She came back, speaking right to me. She said, ‘I love you.’ Then the phone went dead. What is happening? Frankie, what is happening?”

“Did you try calling back?”

“I couldn’t. The number is blocked.”

“What about the cell number you found on the receipt?”

“Nothing. I don’t think it’s turned on.”

“Okay, we’re headed toward you right now. Give me ten minutes, I’ll be there.”

“Where is my sister!”

“I’m working on it. I swear to you—”

“You are lying! You don’t know anything. You’re lying!”

“Emmanuel! Listen to me! Your sister needs you. The license number code. Think. Where are you with the license code?”

“All I got was another string of numbers. Maybe a code within a code? I’m still working on it.”

“Give me what you got, right now.”

He starts rattling off numbers. I repeat each one out loud. Charlie reaches into his massive coat, pulls out a pen, and writes the string of numbers across the palm of his hand, as if we’d been working together for years.

“Stay where you are,” I order Emmanuel. “Keep your phone on. If she calls again, do everything you can to keep the connection, okay? Maybe the police can trace it. I’ll call Detective Lotham, right now.”

I hang up with Emmanuel, dial Lotham. Charlie doesn’t say a word, just keeps on trucking beside me as I strike a furious pace toward the Badeaus’ apartment.

Lotham doesn’t answer till the fourth ring. “Not now—”

“Emmanuel just called me. LiLi phoned him five minutes ago. Screaming for help, call disconnected, number’s blocked. He can’t call back.”

“Shit.”

“Charlie and I are headed there right now.”

“No! I’m sending uniforms. Go home. Right now, Frankie. I mean it.”

“Not to sound childish, but you are not the boss of me.”

“Goddammit!” Deep breath. He’s clearly struggling for control, but I could give a flying fuck. This is my case, and I’m not backing off.

“Frankie, I’m outside the Samdi residence. He’s dead.”

I falter, miss a step, glancing up at Charlie. “Who’s dead?”

“J.J. Samdi. Gunned down. Probably in the last thirty minutes.”

“The website,” I whisper.

“What the fuck, Frankie?”

“That was the last project. The final piece of the puzzle. They needed the girls to finish the virtual college so they could graduate from fake IDs to fake documents for real student visas. Now that everything is in place and online, they’re cleaning up shop. Deke Alarie is cleaning up shop.”

“Go home.”

“Angelique’s family could be in danger as well.”

“Which is why officers are on the way.”

“Good, we’ll meet them there.”

I disconnect the call, turn to Charlie, who’s clearly heard every word.

“How do you feel about running?” I ask him.

“Knees don’t love it, but given the circumstances . . .”

We both take off down the sidewalk.

We hit the final block where Emmanuel and his aunt live and I register two things at once. The sound of distant sirens. And the wailing of a nearby woman.

“They took him,” Guerline screams the second she sees me. “They took Emmanuel!”

“Who, where?”

“Some man. I came downstairs to fetch Emmanuel. This white van pulled up in the middle of the street and a man jumped out. He had a gun. He pointed it at Emmanuel and told him to get in before anyone got hurt. I tried to grab Emmanuel’s arm. I tried to stop him. But then the man . . . He leapt up the steps and smashed Emmanuel over the head with his gun. My boy . . . He collapsed. And blood, so much blood. I started screaming at him to stop, but the man just looked at me. Then he put Emmanuel on his shoulder and threw him into the van.

“As it drove away . . .” Her voice broke, dropped. “I heard a gunshot. I saw it . . . a flash through the side window. They shot Emmanuel. My baby. Oh my God, what have they done?”

I grab Guerline’s arm as she starts to collapse. “Did the man say anything?” I demand, doing my best to anchor both of us.

“No.”

“What did he look like?”

“Tall. Skinny. His hair was all these tiny braids tied back. And he was wearing gold chains.”

“Deke Alarie.” I exhale.

“Ma’am.” Charlie’s turn. “The van, which way did it go?”

Guerline points down the block. I can hear the police sirens, finally drawing closer.

“Emmanuel’s cell phone, did he have it on him?”

“He dropped it. When the man hit him.”

“Damn.” Because the phone would’ve given us a way to track him. Which no doubt Deke also knew. “Mrs. Violette, can I enter your apartment? Emmanuel was working on decoding a cipher we believe Angelique may have left for us. I need his notes.”

Guerline appears too shocked to answer. I leave her with Charlie’s comforting bulk while I pound upstairs and burst into the apartment. There, the open laptop on the kitchen table, surrounded by piles of paper. I don’t bother to look. Laptop, loose papers, I grab it all, shoving it into a rough pile. I spot a dark blue backpack propped on the floor against the wall. Probably also Emmanuel’s. I dump everything inside, slinging the pack over my shoulder.

A squeal of tires outside, two patrol cars screeching to a halt. I hear Guerline wind up again, along with Charlie’s soothing undertones. Then Officer O’Shaughnessy’s unmistakable voice, demanding to know what’s happened.

I exit the apartment, pausing on the second-floor landing. If I go downstairs right now, Officer O’Shaughnessy is going to demand my version of events as well. He may also recognize Emmanuel’s backpack and force me to hand it over.

Time. I feel it. The drumbeat that’s been chasing me since early this morning. Right now right now right now. Everything is happening right now.

If I go downstairs, submit myself to police questioning like a good girl? There will be no right now. There will be talking and explaining, followed by outrage and heated exchanges. Then heaven help me if Lotham arrives and we have to start the conversation all over again.

In the end, it’s not much of a decision at all. Angelique. I am here to find Angelique. To save a girl.

To redeem a sin I can never change.

And maybe to chase a bullet I dodged ten years ago.

I turn left, down the end of the hall to the fire escape. Then, I vanish into the dark.

I hit the bottom of the fire escape. I drop onto a patch of dirt, exit the rickety chain-link fence behind the triple-decker, and pray I don’t get shot by a paranoid neighbor. I’ve landed in a narrow alley running behind the row of town houses. I need light and a secure space where I can quickly sort my way through Emmanuel’s notes to find the decoded numbers he’d rattled off by phone. First question, do I head left or right?

I strike out right. Then promptly hear a noise behind me.

I whirl instantly, hands up in a pugilistic stance. I only know what I learned during self-defense at the Y. I refuse to be an easy mark, though. Bad guys want me, they’re gonna have to work for it.

No forms materialize in the dark. Instead I hear the sounds again. A low moan, a hissing sigh. The clatter of someone trying to walk but doing a poor job of it.

I slip into the darkness rimming the edge of the alley and creep toward the sound. What I discover leaves me shocked beyond words.

Deke Alarie, leaning heavily against a lowered fire escape, arm gripping his side. I don’t have to look closer to see he’s been grievously wounded, his shirt covered in blood. So he was the one shot in the van. Not Emmanuel. But Deke.

He goes to take a staggering step forward, only to collapse.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hang on.” Smart or not, I sprint to his side. His breathing is shallow. In the reflected light of a distant streetlamp, I can see sweat dotting his brow.

The sight threatens to send me spiraling, to another time, another place, another man on the ground, bleeding out.

Deke grabs my shoulder, gripping painfully. I wince, grateful for the distraction, as he tries to use me as a human crutch. Unfortunately, he’s too big and I’m too little. Both of us go careening to the ground. He grunts painfully. I scramble to get my feet back beneath me, assume the offensive.

“Gun,” I demand. “Where’s the gun?”

“Don’t . . . have . . .”

“Who the hell shot Emmanuel? Where’s Angelique?” Fired up on adrenaline, I lean over him and scream my questions into his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His eyes are closed. His skin graying.

Another time, another place. Me, rocking back on forth on my heels. “No, no, no. Stay with me. Please, Paul, stay with me stay with me stay with me. I need you.”

“Your family’s dead, you know that, right? Your half brother, your half sister. Both of them. Murdered.”

He shakes his head, drawing another painful, rattling breath. “No one was supposed to . . . get hurt.”

“What a bunch of horseshit. Where’s Angelique?”

I try to step back, but he grabs my ankle. I glance around. There’s no one in this alley. Just him and me. Just me and a dying man.

Paul, on the ground, his head on my lap, while his hands grip his stomach, trying to keep his insides from leaking out. “Well, that didn’t go as planned.”

Me, screaming. Screaming, screaming, screaming.

Paul. “Shhh. It’ll be okay. I love you.”

Me, screaming some more.

“I didn’t want them hurt,” Deke is rasping out now. “No need. This is . . . supposed to be . . . upmarket stuff . . . Just wanted to see my family again. Mom wouldn’t take my calls . . . Johnson hated . . . me. Found Livia. Little Livia. She said hey. We started talking.”

I close my eyes. “You poor stupid son of bitch.”

“Yeah.”

I think he’s smiling. It’s hard to tell as he coughs and blood sprays from his mouth. He’s not going to make it. I know the signs too well. Deke Alarie, my lead candidate for all things evil, is about to die.

I take a seat beside him. I smooth back the fuzz on his forehead. He is both sweaty and cold to the touch. It won’t be long now. We both know it.

Paul: “Promise me you won’t blame yourself for this. Promise me you won’t use it as a reason to drink. Come on, Frankie. Promise me!”

“I liked Livia,” Deke murmurs now. “So fucking smart. Was I ever that smart?” A bloody smile. “She got all bent out of shape over fake licenses . . . bad merchandise. I told her she should fix it. She could do better. I could get her the equipment. I could get her whatever she wanted.”

“You set her up to manufacture fake IDs.”

“Rough start . . . these new state licenses. Not as easy as they look.”

I nod, stroking his damp cheek. His eyes are closed. His breathing rougher.

Paul: “I’m glad you called tonight, Frankie.”

Me, crying hysterically.

“I’m happy you still trusted me that much.”

“Livia brought in a friend. After school. Worked on it together. Got to a point . . . Product wasn’t half bad. I brought the fakes to my suppliers . . . went into business. But soon . . . not enough. These guys, real counterfeiting pros . . . wanted Real IDs. Something bigger, better.”

Deke coughs wetly. More blood, dribbling from the corners of his mouth.

Paul: “I’m thirsty. So thirsty. Do you have any water, Frankie? Can you get me some water?”

“What happened, Deke?” I stroke his cheek.

“They demanded a meeting . . . with my source. But Livia, too scared. Angelique showed up in her place. She had . . . a new plan . . . not Real ID. Couldn’t”—he breaks off, coughing again—“be done. Visas. Student visas.”

“Angelique figured out,” I provide for him, “that forging a visa would be just as difficult as a Real ID. However, she could create an entire fictional college that would issue the application documents needed for a real visa.”

Short nod.

“Why a college for student visas, versus green cards?”

“Student visas . . . less scrutiny. And so many colleges. Easier place . . . to start. Plus, Angelique’s idea. She wanted. For herself. Her brother.”

“So this was the initial offer. Get these documents right and not only make huge sums of money now but set the stage for larger money later. Except they didn’t let Angelique come home from that initial meeting, though, did they?” This much Lotham and I had already figured out. “Angelique’s grand idea put more at stake. So big bad associate guys decided to protect their investment by keeping her. Which also provided leverage to force Livia to engage.”

Faint nod. Deke’s breathing is ragged. I can hear the beginnings of a rattle.

Paul: “Hold my hand, Frankie? Please. Just hold my hand.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“I know. And I love you anyway. I’ve always loved you anyway.”

“But progress wasn’t happening fast enough?” I push now. “So they grabbed Livia anyway. Forced her and Angelique to work day and night?”

“Livia wasn’t doing . . . so good. The pressure . . . They got nervous. Worried she’d tell. Took her, too. Stuck ’em both in an abandoned building. One leaves . . . The other suffers . . . Couple of guys standing watch. I tried . . . when I could. Give them some breathing room. Let Angelique out . . . but she had to come back. She always came back.”

“For Livia,” I supply.

“She . . . she loves Livia.”

So he knew, then. How much Angelique and Livia meant to each other.

“What happened?” I asked, stroking his cheek. Not much longer now.

“I thought I could keep Livia and Angel safe. I thought . . .”

“You could control the situation?”

“Couldn’t. Everything harder than it looked. Guys, panicking. Girls, freaking out. Month . . . into month . . . into month. Took so long. Livia . . . poor Livia. Then you came. Rocking the boat. So I tried to . . . scare you off. Stop questions.”

“You shot at me, outside J.J. and Roseline Samdi’s house.”

“Thought better . . . if you gone.”

“But I didn’t leave,” I murmur. “And it didn’t get better.”

“Angelique thought, if they cooperated, everything’d be . . . okay. She got college website, registry documents . . . done. Had our first trial.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?” I fill in for him. “Heaven help you all. Angelique’s master plan succeeded, meaning suddenly, they didn’t need any of you anymore. Not Livia, not Angelique, not even you?”

“I tried to warn Livia . . . wanted to get her out. But . . . caught us. He killed her. Right in front of me. What happens if you try to run.”

“You got away. You came to Stoney’s bar. I saw you, outside my window.”

“Wanted to talk to you . . . But then . . . saw the cop arrive. Didn’t know who I could trust.”

“Where is Angelique, Deke? Tell me. I’ll protect her for you. I’ll save her, and I’ll be sure she knows it was because of you.”

Deke’s breathing is definitely ragged now. Suddenly, his body convulses. He winces, grabs his stomach, then heaves sideways just in time to vomit up blood.

“Please, Paul, just hang in there. Help is coming. Paul, Paul. Please God. Paul!”

“Housecleaning now,” Deke whispers. “No loose ends. I gave Angelique my phone. Told her to warn her brother. They knew . . . about her messages to him. But her call . . . not in time. They grabbed him. Threw him . . . in the van. I went for the gun. Enough . . . is enough.”

And there it is, the final death rattle I know all too well.

Me, clutching Paul’s hand. Keening, keening, keening.

Sirens in the background, still way too far away. They won’t be able to save him. No one can save him.

Paul, eyes fluttering open. “You are so beautiful. First time I saw you . . . I knew you were the one. So many, I tried to fix. But you . . . You healed me. I love you, Amy. Forever and always. I love you, for loving me.”

Me, keening, keening, keening.

As her name goes on and on. Amy Amy Amy. The woman he truly loved. The woman who loved him.

The woman I could never be.

There are no sirens now. No final declarations of love. A long, shuddery sigh.

“Livia,” he whispers.

Then I watch the life expel out of Deke Alarie. I feel his hand go limp in mine.

I bend over long enough to close his eyelids. I brush a soft kiss over his forehead. I thank him for trying to save Emmanuel and Angelique. I bless him for having the fortitude to tell me what I need to know.

Where I must go next.

When I finally rise to standing, I’m coated in blood and tears. And once more, that night, so long ago.

“I love you, Amy . . .”

I accept the pain as my due.

Then I grab Emmanuel’s backpack and I start to run. There’s not much time anymore. But finally, I know exactly where to find Angelique, as well as her brother.

I know how to get this one right.