Law of Attraction (16 page)

He was closer than she would have imagined. On the street in front of the church, D’marco Davis sat in the eleven-year-old Toyota Corolla he’d chosen to steal because it had dark-tinted windows. A screwdriver was still punched into the ignition. He reclined in the driver’s seat and watched the church, as he had all morning, noting who was coming and going. A small bottle of Wild Turkey sat beside him; it was still mostly full. He wasn’t far enough into it yet to do anything foolish. He was still in control. He sat quietly, patiently, biding his time.

•  •  •

D’marco was still driving the Corolla with the tinted windows three days later. He was sober when he turned the car into the alleyway behind Rose’s house. With some effort, he had restrained from drinking this afternoon. He would need to think clearly for what he was about to do.

He drove down the alley, a narrow concrete drive bordered by the backs of row houses and their fenced yards. It was a quiet, hazy summer afternoon, and no one was out. A dog barked in the distance, but no human seemed to notice D’marco parking the stolen car a few houses before Rose’s yard. He pulled the long black screwdriver out of the ignition and put it into the pocket of his baggy jeans. A wall of humid heat hit him as soon as he climbed out of the car. The buzzing thrum of insects was all around.

D’marco shut the door quietly and walked to Rose’s chain-link fence. He could see Dameka and D’montrae playing on the back porch. Rose would be inside, making dinner or talking on the phone. D’marco took a deep breath. He had to do this.

He climbed over the fence, landed softly in Rose’s grass, and crept stealthily to the screened porch. The twins were pushing Matchbox cars around a curving track, narrating a car chase. Rose wouldn’t let them play Grand Theft Auto on the Xbox; she thought it was too violent. This was the closest they could get.

“D’montrae,” he called softly. “C’mere. Quiet now.” The little boy turned toward the sound of his father’s voice.

“Daddy!” he cried, running over to him.

“Shhh,” D’marco said, putting his fingers to his lips. Dameka ran over, too, and they both knelt down to their father. The porch was chest-high on D’marco. He reached up so that his hands were pressing
theirs through the screen. He could feel the warmth of their little fingers through the mesh. “Quiet,” he whispered.

“Why quiet, Daddy?” Dameka whispered back.

He paused, waiting to see if Rose would come to the window at the back of her kitchen, or whether the door leading from the porch into the kitchen would open. Nothing happened.

“It’s a surprise,” he said softly. After another minute, D’marco climbed up the steps and opened the screen door quietly. Keeping low, he crept to the back corner, where Rose could not see him from inside. He crouched in the corner, then waved the children over. They ran to him, their faces full of delight at this game, their eyes unclouded by fear or apprehension. They were just glad to see their father. They had heard whispers about their mother’s death, but people had been discreet; the twins did not yet understand the role their father had played in it.

As D’marco knelt in the corner, they pressed into either side of him, throwing their little arms around his neck. Dameka was leaning on his leg, pressing against the pocket where he had stashed the screwdriver. He could feel the tool digging into his thigh. He pulled her closer.

“How’s my li’l boo?” he asked softly.

“Oh, Daddy—” she started to launch into a story, but then he heard the doorbell ring inside the house.

“Shh,” he said again, putting his finger to her mouth. He pulled the twins tighter to him so they would be still.

He could hear Rose greeting someone at the door. He heard footsteps coming into the house, and a few people’s voices. He remained crouching with the children for a moment, considering his options. He hadn’t counted on anyone else being there. Keeping his hands on the children’s heads, D’marco slowly stood up and peered over the ledge of the kitchen window. There were bars over the window, but the window itself was open, allowing a breeze into the house through the screen. He could hear the voices inside.

“Thank you so much for inviting us over today,” a woman was saying.

“Of course,” Rose replied. “Thank you for coming.”

If he squinted, D’marco could see through the screen into the house. Beyond the kitchen, Rose was sitting on the couch in her living room. A young white woman sat next to her. D’marco couldn’t see the rest of the people in the house, but he heard male voices, too; apparently,
some men were sitting in chairs outside of his sight line. It took D’marco a moment to recognize the woman as the prosecutor who had tried to convict him last time.

D’marco quickly squatted down again. His breath was fast and shallow, and his hands suddenly felt moist. He gripped the screwdriver in his pocket for reassurance. After a moment, he realized that this could be an opportunity for him. He smiled at the twins.

“Shh,” he whispered.

16

T
hey all sat in Rose’s living room, Anna next to Rose on the couch, Jack and Officer Brad Green in chairs flanking the coffee table. Jack had asked Green to come with them today instead of McGee, telling Anna that Rose might feel more comfortable with an officer she already knew. He was right. Rose had greeted them all warmly, but had been especially happy to see Green, greeting the officer with a big hug and instructing him to sit in a cushiony La-Z-Boy chair, obviously the choice seat in the house. Then she had pulled out a photo album and sat next to Anna on the couch. Rose flipped through the album, showing Anna the pictures of Laprea growing up: Laprea doing an Easter egg hunt in Sherry’s front yard; Laprea in a hot-pink dress standing before an airbrushed cloth background at her junior prom; Laprea in the hospital after she’d given birth to the twins. Green shifted in his chair and Rose looked up.

“I’m sorry, boys, I been running off at the mouth. You could use something to drink, coming out here on such a hot day. There’s lemonade in the fridge. Brad, you know where the cups at, right? Could you get four of them and the lemonade?”

Green nodded and went to the kitchen, obviously relieved to have an assignment. Rose turned to Jack. “He’s a good officer. Always looking after us, stopping by to make sure everything all right.”

Jack nodded. “Officer Green’s an excellent community policeman.”

“He came up around here, right?” asked Rose.

“Well, I wouldn’t say around
here.
” Jack smiled wryly; Anna recalled that Jack had grown up in this neighborhood himself. “I think Officer Green came up in the ’burbs—maybe Silver Spring? He played football for the University of Maryland for a year or so.”

Rose leaned forward, interested. “For real?”

“Yeah, he was the kicker during my senior year.”

“I bet he was good.”

“He
was
pretty good. I remember when he scored the winning field
goal against Virginia Tech in the last few seconds. The team carried him off on their shoulders. He was something of a local celebrity after that. Till he got injured—tore his ACL, I think. That was the end of his football career.”

“Mm,” Rose murmured, looking toward the kitchen, smiling. The idea of Green as a football hero clearly appealed to her.

Anna followed Rose’s gaze and watched Green puttering around the kitchen. He didn’t look like a football hero now. Although he still had bright blue eyes and plenty of cropped light brown hair, he also had that little potbelly straining against his uniform shirt, and his pink face was getting puffy, cushioned under an expanding layer of fat. Time had taken its toll. Anna guessed how hard it must have been for Green to suddenly lose his star athlete status—and how being a cop had probably filled some of that void. The MPD uniform wouldn’t attract anything near the glory of a Terrapin football jersey, but it did get the attention and respect of many women, and garnered a lot of perks from the shops and businesses where an officer patrolled. Green had probably been an indifferent student, Anna thought, somewhat lost in the huge campus when he was no longer a football player—but as a police officer he could still be a local hero.

Jack turned the conversation to the subject they’d come here for. “I’d like to talk to you about our investigation. Anna and I will be following all possible leads. As part of that, we’d like you to come to the Grand Jury next week.”

“Whatever I can do to help.” Rose nodded nervously. “Do you think you’ll catch D’marco soon?”

“The police are doing everything they can.”

Hearing this, D’marco smiled, even as he crouched lower. He could hear the police officer opening the fridge on the other side of the brick wall. D’marco nudged the kids back to their toy cars. He didn’t want their silence to get Rose’s attention.

“Go on and play,” he whispered. “I’ll watch.”

Inside, Jack was explaining Rose’s role in the case. “We’ll need you to establish the time that Laprea left the house the night she was killed. And where she was going.”

“She said she was going to D’marco’s house,” Rose answered quietly.

Jack nodded and continued asking questions about that night. Despite her grief, Rose was clear and concise, easily remembering the
details.

“I know this is hard to talk about,” Jack said. “But you’re doing great. You’re going to be a fine witness.”

“We might also have you talk about the previous times that D’marco hit Laprea,” Anna added. “There’s a good chance the prior assaults will be admitted at the trial.”

“Plenty of those.” Rose shook her head. “I was always afraid this would happen. I don’t know why that girl couldn’t stay away from that man. Probably the same reason I couldn’t stay away from her father.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what was her father like?” Anna asked.

“A lot like D’marco. In and out of jail. Charming when he wanted to be. Mean when he drank. He would smack me around, in front of Laprea sometimes. He’s in prison now, won’t get out till 2020 or something.”

Anna nodded at the familiar story. Green came out of the kitchen with a carton of lemonade and four plastic tumblers filled with ice. He set them on the coffee table. Rose poured lemonade into the cups and handed Anna one. Anna took a sip, formulating her next question. There was no delicate way to get around it.

“Ms. Johnson,” Anna asked, “do you know whether Laprea was dating anybody besides D’marco?”

On the porch, D’marco sat up straighter and strained to hear. That was why he’d come here, to ask the twins that very question. This could be the jackpot.

“No, I sure don’t,” Rose said as she handed cups to Jack and Green. On the porch, D’marco slumped back against the brick wall in frustration. “Not that she would’ve told me. Why do you ask?”

Anna paused and looked at Jack. Someone had to tell Rose that Laprea had been pregnant. Anna dreaded doing it. Poor Rose! One blow after another. But she had to know. Jack nodded: Anna was the best person to break the news.

“Laprea was sixteen weeks pregnant when she died,” Anna said gently. “The timing makes it impossible that D’marco was the father.”

Rose’s eyes got wide and her hand froze with the juice carton in midair. “Oh, Lord,” she said at last, thumping the carton to the table. Her eyes brimmed over with tears. Anna squeezed Rose’s arm.

On the porch, D’marco stared blankly ahead, in shock. The twins, who weren’t paying attention to what was being said inside, were
playing with their cars. Finally, he turned to Dameka.

“Baby girl,” D’marco said softly, “you know if Mommy had any friends? Man friends?”

Dameka stopped moving her car along the track and looked at him nervously. She knew that talk of other men never led to anywhere but trouble in her house. She shook her head silently. D’Montrae mirrored her movement.

Inside, Rose was wiping her eyes with a tissue. “Can you do a paternity test and find out who the father was?” she asked.

“It’s not that simple,” Jack explained. “The scientists can’t just look at the fetus’s DNA and determine who the father was. They need to compare the child’s DNA to a suspected father’s DNA. We’ll have the FBI determine Laprea and the baby’s DNA profiles, and then run them through CODIS—that’s a national database of the DNA profiles of convicted felons. If the child’s father is in CODIS, we’ll be notified that there’s a match. But if he’s not, then DNA doesn’t tell us anything until we have a potential father to test.”

“I see.”

“How are the twins doing?” Anna asked, to direct the poor woman’s thoughts away from the grandchild she’d never meet.

“They okay. I’m not sure they really understand she ain’t coming back.”

“They’re so lucky to have you,” Anna said softly.

“I’ll call them in.” Rose turned to the kitchen window. “Dameka! D’montrae! Babies, come inside!”

On the porch, the twins stood still, looking at their father, wondering what to do. D’marco pushed the children toward the kitchen door. “Go on,” he whispered, trying not to panic. “Just don’t tell your gramma I’m here.” He held the screwdriver tightly beside his leg.

The twins walked uncertainly into the house. D’marco closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head back against the brick wall. A thin trickle of sweat dripped from his forehead into his eye. He should run, he knew it. But he wanted to hear what the police and prosecutors said.

“Say hello to Miss Curtis, Mr. Bailey, and Officer Green,” Rose instructed the twins as they filed into the living room. Dameka and D’montrae obeyed, giving the visitors shy glances and quiet hellos as they hovered by Rose’s legs.

“Hey, I have something for you,” Green told them. He pulled two colorful patches with the Metropolitan Police Department seal out of his pocket. He held them out, and the twins ran over to him. “Here you go.”

“Cool!” D’montrae exclaimed, grabbing his MPD patch.

“Wow!” cried Dameka. She turned to the back of the house and ran toward the kitchen. “Daddy! Daddy!” she cried. “Look what I got!”

Anna, Jack, Green, and Rose looked at each other for a stunned second. Daddy? Then Green was on his feet, running through the living room, knocking two cups of lemonade off the coffee table as he rushed past Dameka.