Of Things Unseen Read online

  “She lying, y’all!” said Jason.

  “Whatever. I do got a boyfriend, just like your daddy!” she said, reaching up to put her finger on Diante’s forehead. We stopped laughing, which was the proper thing to do when a jone got too personal. It was an open secret, one she had no business repeating.

  Diante’s eyes narrowed into slits and my stomach dropped. His fists formed balls and the corners of his mouth turned down. He took several steps back and everyone watched silently, waiting to see what he would do. I would feel it again before the summer ended, but for the first time that day, I was terrified.

  Chapter 26

  I DREAMED OF LEAH AGAIN, of that summer, but it wasn’t the truth. It never was. It was always bits and pieces of memories woven between flashes of my real life. Sometimes Tony was there, other times Nikki and Toya were there. Andre was there last night, and I suppose that was fitting. He had been on my mind since our last conversation.

  I hadn’t come to the decision lightly, but after our fight, I was resolved. I had hatched my plan and set the wheels in motion, but before I could execute it, Jeneice Harwell’s father called me. Several times, actually. I didn’t answer his call at first because I was screening, per usual. He finally left a message the fourth time and I called him back immediately.

  My original intention was to direct him to Nikki. After all, my involvement in the cases was over and I was trying to spare myself the embarrassment of having to explain why. But he had sounded so broken, and desperate, that I caved. I had a particular skill set that Nikki didn’t, and it would have been unfair to pass the family off to her to save myself some embarrassment. Nikki would just have to deal.

  It only took me two days to get everything situated. First, I put a call in to channel fourteen. It took all day but they finally called me back after Dr. Jordan pulled some strings. Next, I contacted Detective Dunn and let him know where to be. Finally, I enlisted Nia, Jeneice’s roommate, to help me gather family, friends, and neighbors to form a search party.

  Kroger was kind enough to donate bottled water, and Walmart, after some begging, donated several bottles of sunscreen, insect repellent, a box of whistles, and a case of flashlights to the cause. We loaded it all into my trunk and I made a mental note to send thank you cards. Of course I hit traffic on the way to the Harwell’s church but I still made it by four o’clock.

  The lot was almost full when I arrived, which I was happy to see. Still, several emotions swam through me. Fear of Nikki getting wind of my little rogue operation. Guilt, for being a complete fraud who was faking her way through the most horrible moment of these peoples’ lives. And nervousness, because Barrington would be there.

  It was such a strange feeling, being so affected by a man I barely knew. Nikki thought I had a crush but I think that was the wrong way to look at it. It was more so that I cared what he thought. I wanted to impress him. Just like he had impressed me.

  Mr. Harwell’s was the first face I saw, and he looked the same as he had on tv. I introduced myself and he thanked me six times in a row before introducing me to several family members and Pastor Shannon. Jeneice’s line sisters showed up as well. I recognized one of them but couldn’t remember her name. Her older sister Bellamy was at Hampton when I was, and their family was well-known in Atlanta because the dad owned several luxury car dealerships. They were new money, but they did enough charitable work that they were considered part of the elite.

  I passed by a long table and inspected the food. Isaac was kind enough to provide box lunches. It wasn’t his usual gourmet fare but it was free and very gracious of him to help.

  I had to step outside briefly when Karen Newton from channel fourteen called. She was on the way. My stomach rumbled.

  Every few minutes I stopped to look around, searching for the person who was really in charge of the operation. None of this felt right. Leading, I mean. I just wasn’t suited to it and it was only a matter of time before everyone else in the room knew it, too. My stomach roiled some more. It was going to be a long day.

  Barrington walked in at 4:30 on the dot, looking dapper in a tan suit. The light color contrasted nicely with his deep skin tone, and his presence was commanding. He was mature, a real man. A grown man. The kind you want to cook for every night and let put a bunch of babies in you, who would head his household and get you together if you got out of pocket. I used to see Tony that way until the tenure debacle. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but a small part of me was starting to wonder if I could trust his role in our marriage.

  But I couldn’t think about that now. I busied myself with trying to look busy, scrolling through the contacts in my phone as if it was the most pressing business in the world. Barrington was still in my peripheral vision and I covertly watched him shake hands with the Harwell family before walking in my direction. My heartbeat sped up.

  “Mrs. Johnston, it’s good to see you,” he said. He seemed to be reaching out to hug me but at the last second, he stuck out his hand instead. I was already in the process of preparing for the hug so I ended up hitting his shoulder. I wanted to fall through the floor of the church.

  We shook and I searched for the right words to say. Nothing came to mind so I simply thanked him for coming. He smiled at me. “It’s my job.”

  “I know but...still. I appreciate the support. This is a little above my pay grade.”

  He scanned the room. “Where’s your partner?”

  Damn. How would I explain that? “Uh...she’s not here yet. She has a lot going on right now.”

  “Hm,” he said, his eyes scanning my face. “Is everything okay?”

  “Oh yeah, it’s fine,” I said, knowing he was reading me. No doubt he’d been trained extensively in the art of spotting liars. And I was definitely that.

  BARRINGTON TOOK A FEW minutes to talk to the volunteers about the logistics of the search. As I looked around the room, I realized that despite our stated reason for getting together—to find Jeneice—nobody actually wanted to be the one to find her. To happen upon her dead and decaying body. I imagined that was something that a person could never, ever get over, and I knew I wasn’t the only one hoping I didn’t have to see that. I prayed she would be found, just not by me.

  Nevertheless, we listened earnestly to the detailed instructions. He first warned us not to touch anything, instead instructing us to use our phones to take pictures of anything we deemed pertinent. Then he handed out little paper placards for us to place near any potential evidence we came across. I had already handed out flashlights and whistles and sent a few sorority sisters home to change out of their sandals. Barrington suggested that everyone take a bottle or two of water before splitting us into four groups of ten. Groups A and B were dispatched to search the area near Jeneice’s neighborhood and those of us in Groups C and D went off to search the trails at Arabia. I was pleased when Barrington joined my group.

  “SO NIKKI MENTIONED to me that you’re actually a robbery detective.”

  “Uh...yeah...I am.” We walked slowly and methodically, shoulder-to-shoulder as he had instructed, and his eyes never left the ground in front of him.

  “Have you ever worked a homicide case before?” I asked.

  “Not really. We used to do rotations back when I first came in. Sort of like doctors, but with a lot less money at stake. I did a round in homicide but I was more of an observer. Saw my first dead body on my first day. I kinda thought they’d ease me into it, maybe have me sit in on some interrogations or something but they sent me right out there.”

  “What was that like?” I asked.

  “Honestly? It made me sick. Literally. It was a stabbing. I’ll spare you the graphic details but it’s nothing like the movies. There’s nothing comparable to it. Seeing a human being mutilated. Seeing body parts that you’ve only ever seen whole full of gaping wounds or halfway removed from the body itself.” He stopped talking and walking and looked at me, his first time taking his eyes off the terrain. “Sorry. That’s too much.�
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  “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  We started walking again. “The one that’s stuck with me, though, was a home invasion. My third week, I think. A 74-year-old man, black guy, who lived alone in Decatur. He had lived by himself for a few years after his wife died. Shot in the head, and the killer stole a safe where the man apparently kept thousands of dollars. His family said he didn’t trust banks.”

  I chuckled. My grandpa had felt the same way.

  “Anyway, somebody knew about that money. Had to, probably because he would give cash to some of the neighborhood kids for good grades. We never solved it, but it stuck with me because old Pascale Freeman was a good man. The last man on that entire block.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it was all women and kids living on that block except for Pascale. Somebody literally killed the last man in the neighborhood. And apparently, he was well-loved, like an elder. He looked out for the other families and raked leaves, fixed little things around their houses. His murder was like the end of an era for them and everybody was devastated. I’ll never forget the service. There was so much pain, so much grief, and folks of all ages spoke about the way he impacted their lives.”

  He stopped and bent down, staring at something in the dirt, and I stayed out of his way. I wanted to know what he was thinking and how his mind worked because his intelligence was drawing me in, never mind his voice. Deep and smooth, with a slight drawl. But I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to interrupt his process.

  He stood and gestured toward the ground. “It was nothing. Anyway, it really got to me. I started digging around and I learned that all the men who had lived on that street had either been murdered or locked up. Almost like the street was haunted. And what gets me is that it was probably one of the neighborhood boys that did it. All they had to do was ask and he would have helped them, but nah, they were hard. They had to do it their way. And they didn’t spare him. Shot him down like an animal.” Barrington sighed and wiped his forehead. “That’s still stuck with me after all these years.”

  I thought about my mother’s neighborhood and Mr. Miller. One of the few men left, and definitely the oldest. I wondered what would happen once he passed on. It hit me then that in some ways, black men were missing, too.

  I was so deep in thought I missed a step. I tripped and fell forward, and if not for Barrington’s arm shooting out across the front of my body, I would have face-planted right there on the trail.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. Thanks for catching me. That would have been ugly.”

  Without looking up, he smiled. “Impossible.”

  I pretended I didn’t hear it despite the fluttering in my stomach. He was still holding my forearm and I was enjoying the feel of his rough fingers on my skin. We took a few more steps before I stopped walking and he turned toward me, an expectant look on his face. I avoided his gaze.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, well-meaning and protective. I knew what was wrong but I had no way to articulate it. I was plagued with an uncomfortable sensation, a dissonant combination of guilt and arousal so strong it had stopped me in my tracks. I couldn’t leave him hanging so I finally allowed my eyes to meet his. Just as I was about to speak, we heard it. A piercing scream from deep in the trees. Protracted and labored, warning those near that there was something horrible ahead.

  In one swift motion, Barrington unholstered his gun and took off running in the direction of the scream. My head spun wildly and I struggled to catch my breath as the scream got louder and closer to where I was. It took me several seconds to realize that the noise was spreading, a contagion of anguish passing from one searcher to the next.

  Soon people began running in my direction, a few stopping to vomit. Others wailed and hugged each other while I stayed there, in the same spot, struggling to catch my breath. My hands and arms shook violently and my stomach turned, and I prayed to God that it was a dead animal. Or maybe a live one, with claws and fangs that had scared everyone off the trail. Please, God, be merciful. Let it have been a bear. Even an animal attack would be better than...this.

  But then Barrington walked slowly out of the woods, a mask of grief covering his normally pleasant face, and I knew there would be no mercy this day.

  Chapter 27

  THE LAST HOUR OF WORK was going by way too slowly.

  Aria Joseph had always romanticized having a job, so much so that she had lied about her age to get one. She was 16 now, but she had been hired on at Wendy’s a year and a half ago. You could work at 15 in the state of Georgia but you needed a work permit, and Aria wasn’t much for rules.

  6:24. Only six more minutes. It was empty inside the restaurant so she busied herself by wiping down the countertops. The ammonia smell always burned her nose. She hated it, and she also hated the perpetually moist white rags they used for cleaning. She wasn’t a germaphobe but she knew they didn’t wash them regularly. Underneath that nasty ammonia smell was a hint of mildew.

  “Excuse me miss, is your register open?”

  Aria jumped. Her back had been turned and she hadn’t realized someone was there. “Actually I just closed out but I can go ahead and put your order in,” she said to the man with a smile. Always smile at the customer, Kevin would say. He was a good manager but way too chipper for her liking.

  “Okay, that’ll work. You leaving soon?” he asked, returning the smile.

  “Yes, thank goodness. It’s been a long day. How’s your day going?” Always make small talk with the customer.

  “It’s going great now,” he said, a leering smile spreading across his face. She hit a button on Stacey’s register to bring up the order screen. “What would you like, sir?”

  He chuckled. “Sorry, can I get a second to look at the menu?”

  “Oh, of course. Take your time.”

  “I was so busy looking at you I didn’t get a chance to check out the food,” he said, smiling again.

  Aria said nothing. She wasn’t a stranger to being hit on, even by men his age, but she wasn’t in the mood. Plus, he was weird.

  The digital clock on the register read 6:28. She usually started packing up at about that time but she would have to walk to the back for her stuff. She decided to wait so she didn’t have to turn around. In front of him. Where he could see her whole body. She planted her feet firmly where she was stood. She was safe there, the counter shielding her from the waist down.

  Where is Stacey?

  Aria fiddled with the register, pretending to do something. Her eyes were on the screen but she was watching him in her peripheral. He was still looking at her, still leering, still creepy. Enough was enough. She called to the back. “Hey Stacey, you have a customer!” What was she even doing back there? Probably out back smoking. She was so annoying. 6:29.

  “Sorry! Sorry!” Stacey said breathlessly as she jogged to the front, her blond hair flapping on both sides like two wings. “I was in the walk-in straightening up.”

  “Riiiight. I’m clocking out. I’ll see you Sunday.” Yep, she smelled smoky. Like Listerine-scented smoke.

  “You’re not on the schedule for tomorrow?”

  “No, I have a bunch of errands. For the dance, remember?”

  “Oh, right. Well, have fun, sweetie.”

  “I will,” Aria said as she clocked out. She was so excited. Homecoming was the following week and she was on the court. She had so much to do the next day. She had a dress but she needed to take it to her mom’s tailor to get it altered. She had already booked her hair appointment and she needed to confirm her makeup and book her nail appointment. She could do it from the car.

  “What can I get for you, sir?” she heard Stacey ask. Just the mention of the dance had taken her mind off the creepy guy. She grabbed her purse and a cup to fill with soda on her way out.

  “Um, let me get a number 5. With a Coke,” she heard the man say. She glanced at him on her way
out the door but he didn’t seem to notice her. He actually wasn’t terrible looking. Maybe he wasn’t creepy. He probably just didn’t realize she was sixteen.

  Like a lot of black girls, Aria had developed early. Hips, thighs, ass, and her cycle each visited her in rapid succession once she hit 12 years old. One day she was a skinny little girl with knobby knees and a bubblegum smile and then, overnight it seemed, she became a young woman. The stares, the whistles, and the catcalls were overwhelming for her but there was nothing to be done. She was built just like her mother.

  Aria was Maya’s only child. Had her when she was 17. They were super close, but not best friend close. Maya didn’t play that. She was strict and had only gotten more strict as Aria blossomed. She would always say “It’s for your own good. I’m protecting you,” but Aria took the rules as a personal affront as teenagers are wont to do.

  She was a good kid, though. Never gave her mother any trouble. Mostly As with a stray B here or there. Maya didn’t get to go to college, but she had secured a good job with the state. Aria didn’t know what she did, exactly, but only because she tended to tune her mother out. Always with her face in her phone. But she did listen to the life lessons. Do well in school so you can go to college. Be responsible. Always tell the truth. You can tell your mother anything. Don’t have sex before marriage, but if you do, use protection. That last one was a big one.

  Maya tried to instill street smarts as well, always warning Aria to be careful, especially at night. She didn’t like Aria working late but was satisfied when Aria promised to have another employee walk her to the car if it was dark. It wasn’t too bad on nights like this one when the sun lingered in the sky and set life aglow in shades of pink and purple.

  Aria was content as she sat in the car—her car, which she had purchased with money she saved from working—and scrolled through her contacts. She had let her window down halfway to let the hot air out. Georgia heat was the worst. There it was, MAC at Stonecrest.