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  Chemin looked up at him, and he knew she could see the water in his eyes. Marshall was a strong man, too strong for his good sometimes, and if he was crying, Chemin knew that something serious was going on.

  "I want to stay, but I can't," she said. "We'll end up in bed, and I'll forget about all the things you've done."

  "I'll stay downstairs, anything you want," he begged. "Just please stay here with me tonight."

  Chemin stood silent for a moment, and Marshall could almost hear her thinking. Despite his promise, he saw himself making love to her, rolling naked in their bed.

  "I didn't hurt that girl," she said.

  "I believe you," said Marshall. "Now come on back in."

  "I can't. I have some things to sort out."

  Chemin took a step away, and Marshall grabbed her, hug

ging her tight. It felt good, and for the briefest of moments, he was happy again. She responded, hugging him back, then gently pushed him away.

  "I'll call you," she said.

  She got in her car and drove away, not looking back at him. He watched her and wondered if he'd ever have her heart again. He felt dry and spent, as if someone had stolen his will and left him to die. He wiped his eyes dry.

  "She did it," he heard Danny say from behind him.

  Marshall turned and looked at Danny. He hated him for being so honest, for being so smart. He wanted to believe that Chemin didn't do it, but Danny wouldn't let him. And he was right. He was too in love to be reasonable about Chemin.

  "We don't know that," said Marshall.

  "You heard what she said. You saw what she did. She didn't turn to see if that girl was coming because she knew she was dead, Marshall."

  "What is this, P
erry Mason
? Chemin could have just been shocked that Jessica was coming. And her explanation sounds plausible. She could have meant that Jessica wasn't coming because she would never let her in this house."

  "You got it bad, brotha," said Danny. "I can maybe agree with some of that, but she's guilty of something. I could see it in her eyes. I've seen that look many times. The look of a person with something to hide. And what about the clothes?"

  "I didn't ask her again," said Marshall a little sadly.

  "I'd like to hear her explanation for that," said Danny. "Just heating up my underwear, honey. No, I'm sorry. She saw what she saw in your office, lost her mind, and wasted that poor girl."

  "Will you please stop saying that?!" said Marshall. He tried to control himself. He didn't want to yell at Danny. "I know it looks bad, but I have to believe her. I have to."

  "Then you agree with me," said Danny. "Don't say anything to anyone about this, protect her. Considering all that you know, you have to."

  "I won't say anything, but not because I think she did it. I'll do it because I'm not sure. But now I have to find out. I have to know the truth."

  Marshall went into his office and tried to work. He worked on his opening statement, knowing that it would set the tone for the trial. Trial. He couldn't believe it was coming so soon. The immediacy of it suddenly caused him to grow anxious.

  Marshall worked for hours, but the words wouldn't come. Finally he took another hit of Tylenol and went to sleep.

  He spent a fitful night, running from the demons in his head and his heart. And somewhere in his mind, he wished that he could stay in that darkness forever.

M
oses took another hit of the joint as the young girl slipped out of her clothes. He was taking a chance, but he couldn't waste all of his time out of prison worrying about lowlifes like Dake, Nita, and Ted Walker.

  The girl turned up the radio as she unbuttoned her blouse. The little motel clock radio squeaked out a rap tune that was a remake of an old Isley Brothers song. She caught the beat and moved her body to the song. He was pleased to see she was into her job.

  Moses had found the girl walking along the street, looking tentatively at passing cars. She was a pro, but a recent one. She still had her looks and didn't seem like she'd rob your ass or cut your throat if you fell asleep too soon. She said her name was Donna, but it was probably a lie. She was about nineteen or so, and had a pretty face. Her body was round and curvy, the way a woman should be. He could not figure out why women were starving themselves trying to get thin. He found skinny women sick and unattractive. A woman should be full-bodied—not fat, but voluptuous.

  Donna danced closer to him and took off her top, then her bra. Her breasts tumbled out. They were huge and real, he added in his mind. Only in these days would a man even have to make that consideration.

  She walked over to him, still in her high heels, her breasts bouncing up and down. She straddled him. Her perfume was cheap, thick, and sweet. It made Moses more light-headed than the joint. There was something about cheap perfume that he loved.

  Even before he'd gone to prison, he hadn't been with a woman for a while. A man shouldn't go without for too long. It makes you sharp and edgy at first, then you get unhinged and cranky. He needed this badly if he was to go on with his plan.

  Moses gave her the joint. She took it and hungrily took a long drag. Then she pulled his pants off and knelt in front of him and pulled out a condom.

  "Not yet," said Moses. "Gimme this first." He pointed to her mouth.

  Donna backed off a little. She obviously didn't want any of that. She was a whore, but not a fool.

  "Uh-uh, baby." She shook her head.

  Moses smiled and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and held it before her. Donna looked at it and considered the offer. Moses knew what she was thinking. It was almost as much money as she was about to get for having regular sex with him. But in the age of AIDS, she would be taking a chance. You could be putting a penis into your mouth or a loaded weapon. He watched her face. She probably had some kind of habit and had to weigh the risk of unprotected sex against the ever-present need for drugs. The money was too good to pass up. She took the bill, held it to the light, then she buried her face into his lap.

  Moses took the joint back and smoked as he enjoyed Donna's technique. He wondered absently if Ted Walker's body had been found. If it had and it made the papers, Dake and Nita would run, and if they did, he might not ever catch them. He could try to turn some of his old crew, but it might be hard. Men were loyal to whoever was paying them at the moment.

  Donna got up and wiggled out of her skirt. She had a gorgeous body that probably wouldn't last. In a few years, she would have worked so hard that she'd lose her looks. Her breasts would sag, and she'd waste away into a walking zombie spiraling down into the deepest regions of the underclass. But for now it was all good, he thought as she turned to let him see her.

"Beautiful," Moses said.

  "Thank you," said Donna. She walked to him and started to straddle him again. Moses held her back, grabbing the condom.

  "Now, I need it," he said.

  Donna seemed insulted for a second. What was his problem? her eyes seemed to say. She got past the insult then put the condom on, and they started having sex.

  The girl was indeed new to the game, Moses thought, because she seemed to enjoy the act. Old pros didn't feel anything when they did it. They might as well be getting a doctor's exam. But Donna was having a good ride. She moaned and wanted to be in several positions before it was over.

  Moses let her use the shower, then he let her leave. She gave him a phone number, which he promptly threw away. A hooker's number wasn't usually good for more than a week. And even if it was good, he didn't want to see her again.

  Moses dressed, making sure to cover his face as much as possible. Then he took some of Ted Walker's cash and left the motel.

  He thought of hailing a cab but didn't want to be close to a driver. He opted for the bus, a place where people were afraid to look anyone in the face. He hopped the bus and took it to the near east side.

  Moses watched the city pass in the darkness of the evening. The neighborhoods had pockets of rebirth that seemed to fight against the decay of time and neglect. He felt comfortable in the inner city. There were many terrible things within it, but it had spawned him, and so it was home. The city was like a drug, he thought. So bad for you, but so necessary to keep you going.

  He got off the bus near Dequindre. He walked along a few streets, making sure his gun was ready. He was taking no chances. He was doing good so far and saw no reason to get sloppy.

  Moses walked up to the little yellow house three blocks over and knocked on the door. Someone stirred inside. A shadow came closer to the door.

"Who is it?" asked a woman's voice.

"It's me," he said.

  There was a noise that sounded like something falling, and then Moses heard the woman say, "Save me, Jesus."

  After a moment, the door opened. A black woman about sixty or so stood there. She had gray hair and a face that looked as though it had seen a thousand dreams disappear. She stood in the doorway, sticking her head and upper torso out.

  "She ain't here," said the woman.

  "Mrs. Washington, I need to see her," said Moses.

  "You heard me say she ain't here, didn't you?"

  "Yes, but I know you. You can't lie to save your life."

  Mrs. Washington shifted on her feet a little, as if acknowledging Moses' accusation. "Jesus in the morning, what have you done now?" she said.

  "I had some trouble, but it was all a mistake."

  "Ain't you done enough here? The girl was only a baby when you came around."

  "Please, don't start that again," said Moses. "It's all old news."

  "Not to God, it ain't. What you did was wrong, and you know it. Thank God no one knows about you and my Nessa. I don't like the police in my business."

  "Can I see her, please?" said Moses. His voice was calm and pleading.

  "Okay, but first I want you to pray with me."

  "Pray?"

  "Yes," said Mrs. Washington. "I may not have the answer to everything, but I do know this: Jesus saves. And if he can wash away the sins of the world, he can help a man like you. Now bow your head with me."

  Moses didn't want to, but he knew Mrs. Washington would never let him in if he didn't. He closed his eyes as the old woman prayed.

  "Heavenly Father, I ask You to heal this wretched man at my door. Look into his black heart and find the goodness that You put there. Let it grow, Lord, until it takes over and brings him back from the sinful hole he's in, back into Your grace. He was named after one of Your greatest prophets, but he has lost the faith. Give it back to him, Lord, so that he may find glory in Your kingdom one day. Amen."

  "Amen," said Moses.

  "Okay, wait here."

  Mrs. Washington turned and closed the door, and as she did, Moses saw that she had a .38 in her hand. She was a religious woman, but a .38 would stop those the Bible couldn't.

  Soon, he heard voices inside arguing. He looked around to see who might be watching, but there was no one. The street had several vacant lots filled with debris and the wreckage of what had stood there before. Other houses had cars in front of them, but looked as though no one would live in them. The windows were turbid apertures with curtains or sheets covering them like dark eyes filled with ruin.

  Suddenly, the door opened, revealing a young black girl about eighteen. She was tall and striking. Her eyes were light brown and jumped out against her darker skin. Her features were soft and classically beautiful. Her hair was done in long, thin braids that ended in a burst of curls. Moses smiled at the girl, but the smile was not returned. She looked at him with fear and hurt in her eyes.

  "You shouldn't be here, Moses."

  "How could I not come to see you, Nessa," he said.

  "People are looking for you, the cops. I heard you busted out. Shoulda known you was too smart to go to jail."

  "Yeah, well, let them keep looking. I came to make sure you were all right." He touched her face, and she grabbed his hand then pulled it away gently.

  "We're fine," said Nessa. She leaned her body in the doorway. "Everybody's okay, so if you're in a hurry, you can go now."

  Moses could tell that she didn't mean it. Nessa could never resist him. She was only sixteen when he saw her at a local store and chatted her up. He knew she was young, but didn't know how young until it was too late. He started having sex with her, and by the time he found out she was a minor, he couldn't stop.

  Nessa was a beauty, a little oasis in the hardness of the ghetto. He wished he could be with her, make love to her, but that was impossible now. Mrs. Washington would kill them both, and that was not much of an exaggeration.

  "You going to let me come in?" he asked.

  "I don't know. I don't need trouble in my house. You gave me enough of that already."

  "Please, I'm only gonna stay a little while." Moses looked desperate. If anyone who knew him could see him like this, they'd laugh. Hard-ass Moses, groveling at the feet of some woman. "I brought you some money." He pulled out a thick roll of bills.

  "Where'd you get that?"

  "It was a loan, from a friend. Take it."

  "Moses, why don't you leave us alone?" Nessa asked. She looked up at him with pain and affection in her eyes, the unmistakable look of a woman in love.

  "You know I can't do that," he said. "I still love you, girl. Nothing can change that. Now, take this money and let me in to see my son."

  Nessa took the wad of cash and opened the door to the house. Moses stepped inside and saw a little one-year-old boy chasing a ball on the floor. The child turned and waddled his way to his mother.