Free Of Blood and Sorrow by Valerie Wilson Wesley Page A

might still be there. If he was, I’d be able to sleep tonight. If not, best to tell his daddy in person so we could figure out our next move together. I tossed a change of clothes, a robe, and a toothbrush into an overnight bag, ran down the street to where I’d parked my car, and sped down the parkway. DeWayne kept a spare set of house keys under a planter on his back porch, so if nobody was there, I’d spend the night and head back home tomorrow morning.
    I couldn’t get Lilah Love out of my mind. What else did the cops know about her? Did they know about the money she’d given me? Did they think I was involved in her death, that maybe my son had been doing my bidding? And truth be told, if I’d known about the moves she’d made on my son, I would have beaten the woman to death myself.
    Who could have done it? Who had the most to gain? Down how many dark alleys had she switched that skinny little butt? That Turk guy skulking around with his tail between his legs was a keeper. Thieves have no loyalty, and a thieving dog will rip out a master’s throat as quick as he’ll lick her hand. Lilah had mentioned something about Turk working for some big-time gangster gone legit. Was she talking about Treyman Barnes? He would gain from Lilah’s death. But why bother if he already had the baby? Revenge maybe? Just plain nastiness?
    I pulled into DeWayne’s driveway at midnight feeling like I’d driven the whole way without taking a breath. I sat in the car for ten minutes thinking of what I’d say to DeWayne if Jamal wasn’t there. If the situation were reversed, there would be no end to my rage. I’d curse him out so bad his granddaddy would turn over in his grave.
    The sudden, sharp rap on the window made me jump so high I hit my head on the ceiling, then banged my elbow on the steering wheel as I scrambled out of the car. And I didn’t feel a damn thing.

SEVEN
    “ W HERE HAVE YOU BEEN, JAMAL ? Where have you been?” I wailed like a kid, grabbed my son, and held him tightly.
    “He’s been down here with me. Where you think he’s been?” said an indignant DeWayne. Releasing Jamal, I jumped in DeWayne’s face.
    “What the hell is wrong with you, DeWayne Curtis? Why don’t you join the twenty-first century and keep on your damn cell phone? Do you know what I’ve been going through up there? Did he tell you what happened? Have you lost your fuck—”
    “Mom.” Jamal placed himself between me and his father. “It’s not his fault. I only told him you didn’t know where I was a couple of hours ago. Don’t blame him!”
    I glanced at my watch, then at my son. “Then let me blame you! Do you know what time it is? It’s midnight! I had my cell on while I drove. I left a dozen messages on your cell. Do you think I pay my hard-earned money to Verizon Wireless every month for the hell of it?”
    “Let’s go in the house, sit down, and sort this mess out,” DeWayne said, interrupting me in the sanest voice I’d heard in years. “Come on, Tammy, I’ll get you a drink. You look like shit.”
    Silently, the three of us settled around the kitchen table like some sitcom version of a happy family. DeWayne’s kitchen was small and neat, the shiny stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher hinting that they were rarely if ever used. I recognized the blue Formica table as one that had belonged to his grandmother; that was one thing he hadn’t changed. It was wobbly and narrow; I pulled my knees in so they wouldn’t touch his.
    It had been years since I’d sat across from my ex-husband, and every feeling I’d ever had about him swept through me in a miserable rush. First came bitterness about his countless betrayals, and disgust at how easily he’d fooled me, then, unexpectedly, a gentler emotion—recognition of his love for our son. If there was one thing in DeWayne’s wretched world that made sense to him, it was Jamal, and I had to respect him for that. He would give his life for this boy as quickly and