Push Comes to Shove (31 page)

Crime scene investigators hoisted Jap’s remains from a shallow grave. Crutchfield and Detective Thomas watched as a technician placed a piece of gum in an evidence bag.

Thomas thumped the butt of his Marlboro. “Whose DNA you think we’ll find on the gum?”

“Hector’s. Put out an APB on him and Squeeze.” Crutchfield ducked under the yellow crime-scene tape. “If Johnnie Cochran were alive, not even he could beat this case.” He moved toward his car.

Thomas was still standing on the opposite side of the tape. “Hey, Crutchfield, where are you going? We have a lot of work to do yet.”

“To break the news to Miles. This is the part of the job that separates the men from the little girls.”

After a thoughtful sigh, Thomas ducked under the tape. “Wait up.”

The last week of school had finally arrived. The children were waiting at the bus stop, at 6:45 a.m., ready to be hauled away for the day. Tameka and Kesha Stevens did what they do best—brag and hurt feelings.

“I hope you don’t come back to school…Put it this way,” Kesha said, “when school starts over, your wardrobe does, too.”

“Everybody ain’t got it like y’all,” a girl wearing last year’s jeans said, with her shoulders hunched and head hung low.

“I know that’s right.” Tameka slapped hands with her sister.

“That’s right, bow down to the divas that’s much greater than you.”

Everybody laughed, some because they found humor in the sisters, others because they didn’t want to be on display next.

GP and Jewels rounded the corner.

“Excuse me.” GP interrupted the laughter and walked toward the children, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, carrying a leather book bag. “We’re A & R’s for Ghet-O-Vision, and I’m looking for two volunteers who wants to make twenty dollars apiece.”

Tameka sucked her teeth. “Twenty dollars ain’t money in my book.”

“We just want to take one picture.” Jewels paused as she exchanged glances with seven children. “Y’all know who Ray Cash is, right?”

“
’Cause I’m a pimp in my own mind
,” Kesha sang out and did some sort of dance. “You better know we know who he is.”

“The picture is for him.” GP blinked. “If he likes it, there’s a good possibility he’ll choose you to play a part in his new video.”

Kesha put hands on what she thought were hips. “Twenty dollars is cheap for me and my sister. We’ve been in a video before. You’re paying for experience.”

Another little girl pulled on Kesha. “They’re strangers. You shouldn’t be talking to them.”

“Shut up, Carinne!” Tameka and Kesha said in unison.

“Tell you what.” Jewels started counting out money. “Since you have some experience, we’ll give you and your sister thirty apiece. Or we’ll just pick someone else.”

“Look at it this way, even if Ray Cash don’t pick us, you’re getting your money’s worth.” Tameka held her hand out.

You damn right
, GP thought as Jewels handed over the money.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Kesha rolled her eyes.

“Nah, that’s cool. We’re gonna take it right here.” Jewels retrieved the camera from GP’s bag. “Don’t trip and start running, I’m about to pull out two water guns.”

“Shoot, I thought she was about to say a snake or some crazy shit like that.” Kesha bit her bottom lip.

All the children watched as Jewels squirted GP in the face, which gained all of their trust—except Carinne’s.

“This isn’t right.” Carinne shook her head.

GP cut his eyes at her while wiping the water away with the ski mask. “Let’s take the photo next to the building.” He walked off and waved Kesha and Tameka over.

Jewels gave him the water guns before he put the ski mask on.

“Y’all ready?” He put his arms around both girls’ shoulders, resting the guns across their chests. “Now, y’all have to look real scared.”

“That’ll cost you a little something extra.” Tameka looked at the masked man. “Like I said, it’ll be worth it.”

Jewels snapped the picture when the sisters made facial expressions of panic. GP and Jewels strolled away as Jewels pinched the instant film between two gloved fingers.

Matthew pushed his employer into National City Bank. The wheelchair stopped inches away from a brass name plaque that displayed the words:
Aubrey Stevens, President
.

“Thank you, Matthew.” The old man confined to the wheelchair had a violent coughing attack.

Mathew inserted an inhaler into the old man’s mouth and pumped twice.

Mr. Stevens turned his PDA off and placed it near the phone. “Is he going to be all right?”

“He’ll be fine.” Matthew put the inhaler away. “He suffers from black lung; made his fortune in the mines.”

The old man caught his breath. “They’re beautiful. They yours?” His shaky finger pointed to a picture on the desk.

Mr. Stevens found himself lost in the images staring out from the picture frame. “Yes, these are my girls. My pride and joy. Wouldn’t trade their bad behinds for the world.”

“Good, good.”

Mr. Stevens threaded his fingers and straightened his back. “What can I do for you, Mr. …”

“I’m Mr. Wagoner.” He coughed in his hand and waved Matthew off when he approached with the inhaler. “I would like to make a large withdrawal.”

“I’m not familiar with the name.” Mr. Stevens pulled his keyboard to himself. “I’m going to need your first name and account number.”

“I’m afraid you won’t find any of that in there.”

“Run that by me again.” Mr. Stevens lifted a brow and dropped his hands into his lap.

“Put your goddamn hands back on the desktop. Now.” Matthew revealed a gun in a holster beneath his blazer.

“Thank you for being cooperative. Matthew tends to become quite nasty when he’s upset.” Mr. Wagoner gave Mr. Stevens an envelope. “You’ll find my account number and balance inside. Open the envelope; take out the withdrawal slip; then pass me the envelope back.”

Mr. Stevens shriveled in the chair and clamped his eyes shut with every intention of forcing the image out. His efforts were fruitless; he could still see the mental version of his terrified daughters in the picture with a gunman.

“The envelope.” Mr. Wagoner’s hand trembled as he held it out.

“I beg you not to hurt my children, Mister.”

“At this moment, Mr. Stevens, the only person who can bring harm to your pride and joy is you.”

Matthew pulled a leather bag from the pocket on the back of the wheelchair. “If you ever want to see them alive again, you’ll listen to me with careful ears.”

Mr. Stevens nodded. “Anything.”

Matthew continued: “Fill the bag with large bills. No dye packs
and no electronic tracking. If we’re not at our destination in the next twenty minutes, our friend in the picture will stop Tameka’s and Kesha’s clocks. Are you with me?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Yes, I’m with you.”

Matthew threw the bag at his chest. “Do you know what will happen if you slip us a tracking device?”

“I won’t do anything stupid. I’ll do what’s necessary to have my girls returned unharmed.”

“Good, good.” Mr. Wagoner looked at his watch. “Sixteen minutes left. You don’t have much time to sit here with us.”

With the bag in tow, Mr. Stevens left his office.

Jewels looked at GP. “I apologize, homeboy.”

“For what?” He spun the wheelchair around to face her.

“I switched the water gun for a real pass out of here if shit don’t go right.” She touched the gun handle and glanced out the door every now and then.

“Dammit, Jewels, I meant no guns. He’s not gonna buck.”

“Shut up, old man. If he does, there’s a nine taped to the bottom of your chair for you. No matter what, I’m coming out of this bank.”

“Jewels, if there is one thing that I know something about for sure, it’s a parent’s love.”

Mr. Stevens entered the office two minutes and some seconds later.

Jewels took the bag, gave the money the once-over, and hung it on the back of the wheelchair.

“Now what?” Mr. Stevens loosened his necktie.

“Go back to what you were doing.” GP rested on the wheelchair’s arms. “It’s going to be hard, but try to relax. You’ll be contacted when we’re safely away with clean money.”

Jewels wheeled GP out of the bank as easy as they had come.

T
wo hours of self-inflicted torture was all that Mr. Stevens was capable of enduring. He hit the bank’s silent alarm, then phoned his daughters’ school.

“Euclid Central.”

“Uh…this is Aubrey Stevens, Tameka and Kesha Stevens’s father.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stevens. What can I do for you today?”

“Who am I speaking with?” He stared at the two contrasting photos before him, one where his girls were smiling and full of life; the other, well to him, his girls were scared as hell. So was he.

“Missy Hinton, Vice Principal. Mr. Stevens, you sound upset. Is there something wrong that I should concern myself with?”

“I’m just notifying you that I’m going to need the names of all children who get picked up at the same bus stop as my daughters in order for the authorities to question them.”

“Why would the police need to speak with these children?” Missy walked from around her desk to shut her office door.

“Either it happened when Tameka and Kesha left the house this morning on their way to the bus stop or the incident took place at the stop.” He could hear sirens in the vicinity.

“When what happened, Mr. Stevens?” She held the phone between her ear and shoulder while removing a pen cap to take notes.

His voice trembled. “My daughters were kidnapped by…by bank robbers.”

She dropped the pen onto the desk. She was taken aback by the information given. “Mr. Stevens, there is an assembly taking place as we speak in the auditorium. I just left there; I personally saw Kesha and Tameka with my own eyes.”

Mr. Stevens looked up when three police officers rushed into his office, followed by the bank’s manager.

The slender officer stepped forward. “What type of situation are we faced with?”

GP paced in front of the pay phone. “What time is it?”

“Don’t ask me that bullshit again. It hasn’t been two mother-fucking minutes from the last time you asked.” Jewels hopped onto the bare table of GP’s booth. “I would’ve never thought that close to seven-hundred grand would fit into that bag.”

GP grabbed her wrist to see the watch himself. 5:58 p.m. “Only thing I want out of it is the money to get Kitchie back and buy a cheap house for the kids. You keep the rest.”

“Hold up, punk. When you rob something, you don’t give it back. That’s against the rules. People rob so they can keep the shit, fool.”

“I promised the kids that I wouldn’t steal anymore. Keeping my word to them means more to me than the money.” He turned around to find an older man dropping coins into the pay phone. “Hey!”

The man paused.

GP put his finger on the connection lever and held it down. “I’m waiting for an important call.”

“You’re still waiting until I’m done.”

“Look, old man, I’m not trying to disrespect you, but you’re
gonna get off this phone.” He yanked the receiver from him. “I apologize. It’s another phone down the street.”

He pump-faked at GP. “I know you’re a punk. The eyes never lie. Never lie.” He aimed two fingers at his own eyes.