Authors: Sydney Arrison
“So, Brooklyn what do you do, and where are you from?”
“I teach kindergarten and I live in New York,” Brooklyn said, as she unwrapped the sandwich.
“How very nice. I’m a retired piano teacher. My late husband Levi worked as an accountant. We saved our pennies and bought our beach house almost thirty years ago.” She looked around the beach. “A lot has changed since then, but every summer on our wedding anniversary I spend a few weeks here. In a way it makes me feel closer to Levi. He loved the beach and sailing.”
“Rose, did you know my mother and father; they built our beach house around that time?”
“Sage and Margret?”
‘Yes, those are my parents.”
“Oh my goodness! I see the resemblance. You look just like your mom, stunning! Your mom must have been pregnant with you because they had a little one named Julia.”
“Yes, that’s my sister.”
Rose’s smile turned melancholy. “I have nothing but fond memories of sitting around a bonfire listening to the oldies on the radio and watching your sister and my son Langston running along the beach. “
“It sounds like wonderful times.” Brooklyn put a fork full of apple cobbler in her mouth and let out a joyous squeal. “This is delicious!”
Rose laughed. “I’m glad you like it. You can take the rest with you. I have more than enough back at the house.”
Rose placed the remainder of the food back into the wicker basket. She stood and dusted the sand from her legs.
“Please, walk with me,” she said.
Brooklyn got in one last bite of cobbler and gave Bella the command to come. Rose and Brooklyn walked along the surf. The warm ocean water washed over their feet as seagulls sensing food nearby circled overhead.
“Levi and I were college sweethearts. He worked in the library at Howard University. I was retuning a book.” She glanced up in the air as if the memory was vivid and clear. “I think it was a collection of poems by Langston Hughes. We started discussing poetry and that was it. Levi was the love of my life. Every day wasn’t easy; we had our cloudy days, but we made it through.”
Rose kneeled down and picked up a thin piece of driftwood. “Do you mind?” she asked, before tossing it.
“No, Bella loves to fetch.”
Rose tossed the stick and Bella sprinted down the beach chasing after it.
“Brooklyn, you’re a beautiful girl and beautiful girls don’t come alone to Cape Cod unless they’re running away from something. I don’t want to pry, but the fact that you’re alone and your eyes are a little puffy leads me to believe that there was some type of heartbreak. You can tell me to go away and mind my own business or you can talk about it. Talking helps, trust me …It really does.”
“You’re very perceptive; I don’t know where to start.”
Rose sat down on the beach and Brooklyn followed suit.
“Start at the beginning,” Rose said.
Chapter 66
Lonette sat in the police station waiting for Song. She had been there for twenty minutes and was told by the desk sergeant that Song would be right out. She held the folder pressed to her chest; she didn’t want any of its contents to spill out.
She looked up when she heard Song say, “Lonette?” It sounded more like a question and less like a greeting.
When she approached him, she had a worried look on her face. Song quickly escorted her to an empty interrogation room where they would have privacy. He didn’t want anyone to hear her rip him a new one for what happened between him and Brooklyn.
He was prepared for her to start in on what an asshole he was; instead she shoved the folder towards him and said, “I’ve been trying to reach Brooklyn all morning and haven’t been able to make contact. Song, I’m worried.”
Song picked the folder up and stared at the pictures inside and then looked at Lonette. “Where did you get these?” he asked.
She explained to him how they were found in Harold’s classroom. Song sifted through the pictures; this time more slowly. Suddenly a feeling of overwhelming dread took hold of him. The pictures were all of Brooklyn in just about every context imaginable.
“He was there; just about all the time; hiding and lurking in the shadows,” Song said, angry and scared. One of the photos showed Brooklyn undressing inside her apartment. Song stood in the doorway and called in Mattice.
****
Brooklyn told Rose about Song launching the investigation of her father behind her back. She also told her about Terry’s role in her mother’s death.
“I’m sorry to hear about your mother’s passing. It must be very difficult for you now that you know what really happened.”
Rose picked up a seashell from the sand, held it in the sunlight and dusted it off.
“Brooklyn, I think now that you know the truth you can try to heal. I knew your mom and she would want you to do that. When your mom was pregnant with you, I recall your dad proudly placing his hand on her stomach; he would say: ‘Maggie, this one is going to win the world cup; feel the strength of that kick.’ Your mom would say, ‘Sage, she’s going to be a fighter.’ It sounds to me that Song had quite the dilemma.
He could have chosen to ignore all of his training, instincts and conscience; just to keep from losing you, or he could chose to do his job to the best of his ability and hope that you would understand. Ask yourself this: would you love or respect him if he had chosen the first scenario? ‘When Love speaks, the voice of all the gods makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.’”
Brooklyn sat staring out at the ocean. She wiped away a tear and asked, “Langston Hughes?”
“No, ‘Love's Labour's Lost”…Shakespeare.
“My dear, you have a lot to think about; a lot to sort out. She looked out at the ocean. “That ocean has helped me find the answers I was seeking many times. It swallowed up my tears and made me feel refreshed. I have a feeling before you go back to New York you’ll know exactly what you must do.”
Brooklyn stayed silent and nodded her head.
Rose looked at her watch. “I have a gallon of homemade butter pecan Ice cream; how about you join me on the deck around eight?”
“Butter Pecan is one of my favorite flavors; I would love to join you.” Brooklyn stood and reached out her hand, helping Rose to her feet.
“I thought you would like butter pecan. Your mom would eat a pint a day when she was pregnant with you.”
Chapter 67
Before Lonette left the police station, Song had her try Brooklyn’s number again. The call went straight to voicemail. He told Lonette to call him immediately if and when she reached Brooklyn. In the mean time, Song and Mattice were headed over to the school to interview principal Harewood. Song had the flashing lights running as he sped through traffic.
“Song, this guy could just be a harmless Looney Tune with a crush on Brooklyn,” Mattice said, trying to sound convincing.
“Mattice, that’s bullshit and you know it,” Song said, his eyes focused on the road.
Song raced through the schools parking lot and almost hit a minivan pulling out of a parking space. They heard the sound of a horn blaring and a woman cursing at them when they exited the car.
‘” I hope you don’t kiss your children with that mouth!’ Mattice yelled.
Principal Harewood met them at the door. “Detectives, you said this was an urgent matter; can you please tell me what this is about?” she nervously asked.
“We need all the information you have on Harold Donavan,” Song said.
“Harold? Well he’s out sick today; his allergies were acting up. Why are you asking about Harold?”
“We’re sorry we can’t share that information with you,” Mattice said.
Principal Harewood’s mouth tightened. “Well, without a warrant I can’t just-“
“We have reason to believe that Harold may have a criminal record, so either you let us see every single thing you have on him or we will notify each and every parent that you failed to do a thorough background check on one of your male employees, and let the parents draw their own conclusion,” Song said, angrily.
Principal Harewood was visibly shaken by Song’s threats. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
Mattice smiled, “Nice work”
A few minutes later she returned with a blue binder. She handed it to Song. “This is his resume and all of his contact information.”
“You said that he called in today; is that a regular occurrence?” Mattice asked.
“Harold has one of the best teacher attendance records. I was a little surprised that he said he couldn’t make it in today.”
“Can you please show us to Harold’s classroom?” Song said.
Principal Harewood walked Song and Mattice down the hall and around the corner to Harold’s classroom. Once inside, Song put on latex gloves and picked up a can of pencils on Harold’s desk. He dumped the contents out and placed the can inside a plastic evidence bag. Mattice searched the bookshelf and the desk drawers. After going over every inch of the room with a fine tooth comb, they thanked Principal Harewood and left the school grounds.
Mattice drove while Song phoned Carla, the head forensic lab technician.
“Carla, I know I’m becoming a pain in your ass, but I need a huge favor. This one is personal and it involves the governor’s daughter.”
“Detective Kai, get here as soon as possible and please don’t make a habit of this. I will rush the results through and keep them confidential as you requested.”
“Thanks Carla, we will be there in fifteen minutes.”
Song sat in the passenger seat reading through Harold’s resume. Everything looked as though it was in order. He then ran his name through the database and nothing came up. He decided to call his friend in the FBI, Mark Gregory, and have him check out Harold’s social security number. Mark took the information and put Song on hold for five minutes.
“Okay Song, that social belongs to Carlos Morales who, according to my data, is 14-years old.”
“It’s stolen,” Song said. Song tried to will away the sense of foreboding that Brooklyn was in grave danger and that he may not reach her in time. “Thanks a lot Mark, I’ll be in touch.”
“You bet, Song,” Mark said.
Song relayed the information about the social security number to Mattice.
“Shit! Let’s hope the prints on that pencil container will tell us who this guy really is,” Mattice said.
After dropping the evidence off at the lab, Song and Mattice had their computer tech guy Spen meet them at Harold’s apartment. Harold lived in Glendale located in Southern Queens. Mattice and Song pulled up in front of the brownstone and Spen was already sitting on the stairs waiting for them.
“Damn Spen! How did you make it here so fast?” Mattice asked.
Spen laughed and pointed to his bike chained to a tree.
Song checked to see if he had received any new messages; he was waiting to hear back from the lab and also waiting to hear back from the governor’s secretary.
“Spen, this is an illegal search, so if you want to bail, we’re cool with that,” Mattice said.
“I’m up for bending a few rules now and then, let’s do this.” Spen pulled a lock pick out of his pocket and opened the door to the apartment.
Chapter 68
Brooklyn was in the shower washing the sand from her hair. She thought about the question Rose asked her regarding Song’s dilemma.
She knew deep in her heart what the answer was, but she needed time to get her heart and head on the same page, she thought. Brooklyn stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a cotton bathrobe and began to dry her hair with a towel. She walked to the patio doors and saw Bella sleeping on the deck. She decided to give Lonette a call to find out if she planned on joining her for the weekend. Brooklyn turned to grab her phone off the table and realized it wasn’t there. She was certain before she went out for her run that she had placed her phone in the charger and sat it on the end table.
I’m stressed and over tired, she thought, I probably left it in the SUV. She grabbed the car keys out of her purse and walked to the rear of the house. Once inside the garage, she opened the door to the SUV and the dome light automatically came on. She searched the floor, glove compartment and even in between the seats. Her phone was nowhere to be found. Figuring it must be somewhere in the house, she quickly went back inside and picked up the receiver from the landline and waited to hear the dial tone. There was complete silence.
After dressing, she walked out onto the deck. Bella was sound asleep on her dog bed. Brooklyn whistled and Bella didn’t stir.
“Okay, suit yourself, lazy bones. I’m going for a ride in the dune buggy and you’re going to miss out.” She patted Bella’s head and walked down the deck stairs and started up the buggy.
Chapter 69
Song and Mattice were conducting a search of Harold’s living room while Spen searched his computer. The apartment was small and modestly decorated. Song flipped through the pages of a few magazines laying on the table. Mattice was going through the contents of a small wastebasket when he noticed a wash cloth among trash. He held the cloth by one corner with his latex gloves and brought it to his nose; he quickly pulled it away and coughed.
“Damn! This reeks of Chloroform.”
Song sniffed the cloth and tried not to panic.
Spen called from bedroom. “Guys! You might want to take a look at this.”
Song and Mattice rushed in. Spen sat behind the computer desk wearing latex gloves, working the mouse. He clicked on a tab and a video appeared on the screen.
Confused, Mattice said, “What the hell is this?”
Sweat started to drip from Song’s forehead. “That’s the inside of Brooklyn’s apartment.”
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He answered it, never taking his eyes off the computer monitor.
“Detective Kai, it’s Carla over at the lab. I ran the prints and I’m a little confused.”
“Confused?” Song asked.
“Yes, the prints on the pencil container belong to convicted rapist Edward Perry. He was released from prison in 1992. He along with four other residents were staying in a half way house when it went up in flames in 1993. All four of them along with the caretaker were presumed dead.”
Song felt his knees go weak; he quickly sat down on the edge of the desk. Carla, this guy worked as a music teacher at a school.”
“The New York State Sex Offender’s registration act wasn’t law until 1996. As I said, he was released in 1992. My guess is all of his documents were forged. With a few hundred dollars and someone with knowledge of computers, you can become anyone you want to be. I just e-mailed Perry’s case file to you. Good luck,” Carla said, before hanging up.
“Thanks Carla.”