As the Wicked Watch(96)

What was she getting at?

The caffeine did wonders to help pull me out of my painkiller haze. And after Keith’s disingenuous report and the suffocation of being in this apartment, I was off the couch in seconds, tearing off the pajamas I’d been wearing for the last two days. There was one person I needed to talk to, and I was on my way to confront her.

I was just about to reach for the pair of jeans and a sweatshirt on the chair, but I wanted Louise to understand this was not a casual call, so instead, I turned to the closet and the work clothes I hadn’t seen in three days.

Am I ready to be Jordan Manning the reporter again?

I grabbed a skirt, my blazer, and some heels, then darted into the bathroom to apply just enough concealer and foundation so that I didn’t look like I was at death’s door. The urgency of my mission quickened my steps toward my car on the upper deck. This was the first time I’d gone near the scene of the attack. I opened the access door to the roof and a wave of fear and anxiety rushed over me. I walked past the last thing I remembered seeing before blacking out—the light fixture with the flicker that had provided my assailant the cover he needed to carry out his surprise attack. It looked different in the daytime, as if nothing had happened. There was no sign of the blood that poured out of Bass’s body. It’d all been power-washed away. And for the first time in my life, I felt like a victim. I had always been able to empathize with victims but had escaped such a fate. The weight of what someone who’d been attacked or raped must feel in court, or at any point having to relive what happened to them, was real for me now, too. After Stephanie and Jaden, I always thought I understood, but it was one thing to say that you could imagine what it felt like and another when it happened to you. The gravity of the moment left me with but two choices: Go back to my apartment or face this new reality.

I refuse to live in fear.

Nonetheless, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I clutched my keys with the largest one protruding between my first and second fingers, poised and ready. If someone was to attack me again, they’d lose an eye at the very least.

Pulling out, I felt like a getaway driver, hell-bent on making it across state lines to freedom. The lack of traffic meant I didn’t get the beat I needed to collect my thoughts. What were the odds? I’d lived here nearly three years, and I couldn’t recall making it anywhere in Chicago this fast. But in record time, I was outside Louise’s.

Now what? I’m at someone’s house, unannounced, ready to confront them on something I’m not even sure about.

To soften the blow of my abrupt arrival, I called her.

“Hello,” she answered.

“Hi, Louise, it’s Jordan Manning. I know this sounds strange, but I’m outside your home. Are you inside?”

“You’re outside my home?”

“Yes. I really need to talk to you.”

“They sent both of you?”

“Both of us?”

“Your coworker Keith is coming over here to interview me about the Harvey boy being attacked in jail,” she said.

“What time is he coming?”

“In about forty-five minutes,” she said.

“That’s fine. I won’t be long.”

Louise went silent. I didn’t know if that was a yes or a no, but either way, I didn’t care. I made haste to the door, which this time wasn’t answered by Marcus but by Louise herself.

No way is she prepared for what I am about to say to her.

“What can I help you with?” she asked.

“It’s not what you can help me with, Louise. It’s what you can help me understand. Can we sit down?”

“Sure. Come in,” she said, and directed me to the sofa. From a distant room, I could hear the distinct sound of a video game. Marcus.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the Harvey boy,” Louise said.

“Yes. Horrible. Heartbreaking. But that’s not why I’m here.”

“My phone’s been blowing up all morning,” Louise said, seemingly ignoring what I’d just said, rocking back and forth in her chair and looking around. “I’ve called an emergency meeting of the South Side Community Council tonight, and I’ve got a million things to do.”

Louise’s awkward, almost nervous demeanor was a far cry from that of the confident person I’d encountered here before. I got the feeling she didn’t want to talk about whatever she thought I was here about. But with Keith on the way, I didn’t have time for small talk, so I launched in.

“Louise, what do you know about Terrence Bankhead?”

Half stunned and half the Louise I remembered, she looked askance at me and leaned forward. “What do you mean?” she said in an unnecessarily defiant tone, which I gave right back to her.

“Louise, I’m not here to sugarcoat this. So let me spell it out for you.”

I leaned in closer to make it clear that any bullying tactic she was debating would not work on me.

“Terrence Bankhead was hanging around Masey James. I’ve learned that Terrence has a roommate. When I was here last, you brought up to me this story out of nowhere about Red Moley. And I remember you saying very specifically ‘If there’s one, there’s two.’ I think these two guys had something to do with Masey’s murder, and maybe the attack on me and my friend, too. Now you look me in the face and tell me you don’t know anything about them.”