Defenseless (5 page)

The dog excitedly licked his face. “Good girl. Have you eaten yet—”

“Of course she's eaten,” Bridget interrupted.

Dwayne looked up at his sixteen-year-old daughter with a crooked grin. His smile faded when he noticed what she was wearing. “Please say you didn't wear that to school.”

Bridget looked down at her three-sizes-too-big jeans and midriff tank top. “What's wrong with what I have on?” she asked seriously.

Dwayne shook his head, not wanting to have this discussion tonight. He then noticed she had the cordless phone held under her ear. “Who are you on the phone with?”

“Shock G.”

“Shock who?” he asked, walking past her and heading up the stairs.

“Shock G., my boyfriend.”

Dwayne stopped in the middle of the staircase. “Boyfriend? What happened to—”

Bridget held up her finger, signaling for him to be quiet.

“Bridget, it's time for you to get off the phone. I have some important calls to make.”

“Baby, I'm going to have to call you back. Yes. Okay. I love you, too. Bye.”

Dwayne forgot what he was about to do and descended the stairs to follow Bridget into the kitchen.

“‘Baby? I love you?' What in the hell is going on?”

Bridget checked the food on the stove. “Oh, Daddy, calm down. Nothing's going on, we're just friends.”

“A minute ago he was your boyfriend,” he said, assessing his little girl's figure. He realized she wasn't a little girl anymore. She was five foot five and with curves he swore weren't there last year.

“Oh, Daddy, I just tell them that. I don't really mean it.”

“Them?” Dwayne felt feverish. “Just how many are there?”

Bridget smiled at her father. “Just a couple.”

“You're grounded.”

Bridget's smile vanished. “Grounded? Why?”

“Because I said so,” he thundered. “My daughter is not some nappy-headed boy's hangout!” Dwayne stormed out of the kitchen.

“But, Daddy,” Bridget said, following behind him.

“Don't ‘but Daddy' me, Bridget. I don't even know these boys: Ice Pick, K. Dog, Chili, and every once in a while you'll date someone with a normal name. Now this Shock G.”

“You know George, Daddy. He lives down the street.”

Dwayne's face registered shock. “Little George? The Whitfield's boy?”

Bridget crossed her arms and looked impatiently at her father. “Little George is eighteen.”

“Eighteen? When did that happen?”

“You're overreacting, Daddy. Besides, I've already promised we would catch a movie tonight.”

“I thought we were having dinner together tonight.”

“We are—” Bridget shrugged her shoulders “—but afterward I have a date.”

“No. It's a school night.” Dwayne turned and headed up the stairs.

“Daddy, please.”

“No. You have only a week until school is out for summer break,” Dwayne said without looking back at her.

“Well, how long am I grounded?”

“Until your hormones calm down, or I'm in a nursing home. Whichever comes first,” he shouted from the top of the stairs.

The phone rang. Dwayne knew Bridget would answer it. He started undressing and headed for the shower when Bridget knocked on the door. “I'm not dressed, Bridget. What do you need?”

“That was Aunt Sharon on the phone. She said she needs you down at the hospital.”

Dwayne put on his robe and opened his door. “Why, what happened?” he asked frantically.

“She said some lady is being rushed to Northside Hospital.”

Dwayne shifted his weight from one foot to another, irritated that Bridget couldn't take better messages. “What lady, Bridget? Did she say a name?”

Bridget squeezed her eyes tight, trying to remember what her aunt said.

“Oh, I remember. Some lady named Sonya.”

“I
'm here to see Sonya Walters,” Dwayne told the nurse at the hospital reception desk.

She smiled politely and roamed her finger down a clipboard. “She's in room 712.”

“Thank you.” Dwayne rushed in the nurse's pointed direction. The long, vacant hallway enunciated the sound of his shoes pounding against the linoleum floor. He arrived at Sonya's room and knocked. When he pushed the door open, he found Sonya lying against a stack of white pillows. But what disturbed him most was the instant frown that creased her face the moment their eyes met.

“How are you doing?” he asked, stepping into the room. Once inside, he saw Sharon sitting next to Sonya's bed.

“Oh, thank goodness you came.” Sharon rushed from her chair to greet him.

Dwayne shared a quick hug, but his attention quickly focused back to Sonya.

Sharon continued to talk as Dwayne headed closer to the bed. “You won't believe what happened. Sonya walked in on a burglary.”

Alarmed, Dwayne touched Sonya's shoulder. She pulled away, puzzling him more. “Are you all right?” He lifted his hand to the small patch against her head.

“I'm fine,” she answered in a muffled whisper, then drew away from his touch.

Dwayne dropped his hand in frustration. “So what happened?”

Sonya closed her eyes before responding. “When I arrived home from our earlier appointment, I discovered the house door was open. I stopped briefly and tried to remember if I forgot to lock up the house before storming over to Laura's last night. I couldn't remember. Everything was one big blur. So I went inside. The house had been ransacked. Tables, chairs—you name it—had been overturned.”

A knock sounded from the door. Everyone looked to see James Ellis walking in.

Sharon raced to greet her husband at the door.

“I came when I read your message on the refrigerator.” He looked at Dwayne. “I didn't know you knew Sonya, Dwayne.”

“Miss Walters is a client of mine,” Dwayne answered absently, then turned his attention to Sonya.

Sharon walked back to the bed and touched Sonya's shoulder. “Finish telling Dwayne what happened.”

“As I was saying—I found my house in shambles. So I immediately went to find a phone. Then I thought I heard something in the kitchen. I remained cautious, but before I knew it everything went black.”

“You could have been killed,” Sharon moaned, covering her mouth.

James nodded in agreement while Dwayne mulled her story over in his head. He pinched the tip of his chin and wondered if there was a connection to Curtis's murder and Sonya's burglary.

“What do you make of it?” Sharon asked him.

Dwayne turned toward the rest of the group and shook his head. “I don't know, but I can't chalk up the incident as coincidence.”

She dropped her head back and closed her eyes again. “I don't see how they are related.”

“Why not? You do realize, if your sister didn't kill her husband, someone else did?”

“Killed her husband?” James asked incredulously. “Curtis is dead?”

“I'll explain later, honey,” Sharon said.

Sonya opened her eyes but said nothing.

“Sonya?” Sharon asked.

“I guess I hadn't thought about it that way.”

Dwayne recognized the fear in her voice for what it was. “Don't get upset. We could very well be grasping at straws.”

Sonya shook her head.

“Tina Hudson, Sonya's secretary,” Sharon went on to tell Dwayne, “arrived to deliver some charts for Sonya to look over. She found Sonya unconscious on the kitchen floor.”

“I see,” Dwayne said thoughtfully. “Where is she now?”

“She went home. She had two kids to pick up from day care.”

“I wonder what they were looking for,” Dwayne wondered aloud.

“Have you seen her place?” James looked at Dwayne. “It's a fortress.”

“You have to admit, your being broken into right after Curtis's murder is a bit suspicious,” Sharon agreed.

“Well, I don't see a connection,” Sonya admitted.

A light tap at the door caused everyone to turn around. Sonya moaned when a police officer walked through the door. “Sergeant Freeman.”

“Hello, Miss Walters. Dr. Johnson said that you were up and about.”

“I don't want to answer any of your questions,” Sonya said too rudely and received open stares from everyone. “He's the same arresting officer on my sister's case,” she offered as an explanation.

“Laura killed Curtis?” James asked, looking at his wife.

“Shh, honey. I'll explain later.”

Dwayne walked over and shook Sergeant Freeman's hand.

“Ah, Mr. Hamilton. What are you doing here?”

“I'm handling the Durden case.”

“Oh, I see. Miss Walters went out and hired the best lawyer money could buy, eh? Well, it doesn't matter. There's very little to this case. Mrs. Durden already admitted to stabbing her husband. It's an open-and-shut case.”

Dwayne's smile faded. “I doubt that, Sergeant. I doubt that. Tell me, what brings you out here?”

“I need Miss Walters to answer a few questions. She seemed too busy in the past twenty-four hours to discuss her involvement with the case.”

“Involvement?” Sonya sat upright to glare at the sergeant.

“I don't think this is a good time to talk about this. Perhaps after you obtain a subpoena?” Dwayne asked casually.

Sergeant Freeman smiled tightly. “I don't see why you would want to do things the hard way. I thought that Miss Walters was smart enough to come in voluntarily. I was mistaken.”

Sonya struggled out of her bed. Sharon tried to pull her back, but Sonya wouldn't oblige. “I think it's time you left, Sergeant,” Sonya replied with a razor-sharp attitude.

Freeman's eyes leveled with Sonya's. “I will get you in for questioning.”

“Perhaps this isn't an open-and-shut case,” Dwayne interjected.

Sergeant Freeman gave Dwayne an angry glance, then turned to leave the room. “We'll talk later, Miss Walters.”

Sonya touched Dwayne's arm. “Not without my lawyer present.”

Sergeant Freeman gave a slight nod and then disappeared out of the room.

“Well, can you believe that?” Sharon said from beside the bed.

“Actually I'm having a hard time believing any of this.” James rubbed his head.

Sonya looked up and smiled at Dwayne. “Thanks.”

“Ouch. I'm sure that hurt. Have you ever told anybody thanks in your life?” Dwayne teased.

Sonya smiled. “Once.”

“Well, sister-girl, I think it's time we went home.” Sharon pulled her husband along.

“But I thought we were—”

Sharon stomped on James's foot. “We have to get home. James hasn't even unpacked from his trip.”

“What's the rush?” Sonya asked, looking at Sharon.

“Hospitals make me nervous,” Sharon offered as an excuse. “Oh, before I go, you left this in the spare bedroom.”

Sonya took the gold coin necklace and shook her head. “The clasp is loose on this thing. I have to get it fixed.”

“Well, see you guys later.”

Dwayne knew what his sister was thinking. Sharon, the hopeless romantic, was obviously trying to leave them alone. But before he could stop them from leaving, they were out the door.

“Um, I wonder what got into her.” Sonya settled back into the bed.

“You can never tell with Sharon. Can I get you anything?”

“No. The doctor wants to watch me for twenty-four hours. Are you still going to see my sister tomorrow morning?”

“First thing.”

“That's good. I want you to call me after you do.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sonya looked annoyed. She looked down to study her hands. “Just see to my sister.”

“You and your sister seem very close,” Dwayne noted, looking at her.

“Not as close as I would like us to be.”

“Do you have any other family?”

“My mother. My father died years ago.”

“Where is your mother?”

Sonya didn't answer.

Dwayne watched as tears gathered in her eyes.

“Mr. Hamilton…”

“Please, call me Dwayne.”

Sonya smiled weakly at him. “Dwayne, I would like to be alone now, please.”

Dwayne nodded in understanding. Walking to the door, he turned a final time to see her staring toward the window, deep in thought. His heart pounded against his chest. She was so beautiful with her hair hanging free in tiny ringlets. It affected him deeply to have witnessed the pain reflecting in her hazel eyes. He felt a strong need to protect her from the pain that was visible on her face.

He left the room quietly and walked out to his car, still in deep thought. The picture of her looking fragile remained with him as he drove home.

Later that night, he dreamed of her. Dreamed of holding her and protecting her. The next morning, he hardly remembered talking to Bridget through breakfast or even driving to work.

When Carmen entered his office with his requested information, he missed the sarcastic smile displayed across her lips.

“I have something that you're not going to believe,” she cooed, sitting in the chair in front of his desk.

“Oh?” Dwayne leaned back into his chair.

“Yes. It seems that Miss Walters has a family secret.”

Carmen had his full attention now. “What do you mean?”

“I received this fax from Mr. Hill down at the
Atlanta Journal.
The clipping is dated June 4, 1976.”

“Well, what does it say? I have to go down to the jailhouse to meet Mrs. Durden.” He began gathering things up from his desk.

“The clipping is about a housewife who stabbed her husband to death.”

“So?”

“So the housewife's name is Dorothy L. Walters. Sonya and Laura's mother.”