Hostile Eyewitness

by Tyora Moody

Genres: African American Christian

Synopsis

Depressed because of complications of a head injury, Serena Manchester seeks solitude in the hometown she left almost twenty-five years before. Unknown to Serena, her hometown's landscape has changed and unseemly elements have seeped into the quaint Southern seaport town. One night Serena witnesses a gang-related crime. She thinks she recognizes one of the young men, but chooses not to identify him. What if her brain injury has altered her perceptions? Her estranged family has already reminded her why she left town in the first place. Drawing attention to herself and perhaps endangering her well-being is the last thing Serena needs. When tragedy strikes close to home, however, Serena can no longer keep her head in the sand. Serena feels responsible, and her reporter skills kick in. Much to the dismay of the local police, she decides to start her own investigation.

Release date: April 1, 2015

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Wednesday, April 15, 10:00 p.m.

I had always had a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It usually was my fault and was due to my insatiable desire to stick my nose where it didn’t belong. For many years, my curiosity had led me to award-winning stories. But that life as Serena Manchester, the investigative reporter, was in the past, thanks to a serious knock to my hard noggin.

It was that almost fatal injury that changed my life forever.

I sank down lower into the couch. The living room had been my usual spot for several weeks now, as I obsessed over what happened to me a year ago. At least I’d finally graduated from being in the bed, with the covers over my head.

I’d been known to attract crazy men, but it was still hard to believe that last year a madman tried to kill me. Funny, I didn’t remember much about my tumble down the flight of stairs. I was thankful to be alive, but some days I didn’t recognize myself. I just hadn’t been the same. It had been a scary journey, but I wouldn’t dare admit this revelation to anyone. So for almost three months I’d been playing hide-and-seek in a town that I had sworn I would never return to. The goal really was to have no one find me or know I had returned.

I had my demons and issues wrapping their arms around me daily. It was so frustrating to me that my brain wanted to occupy itself with memories from years past, when I couldn’t seem to grasp what I had been thinking about even thirty minutes ago. So the reality of my life slapped me in the face over and over again.

I was forty-two, with no kids, was twice divorced, and was currently unemployed. I could say I left my job as a television reporter out of sheer frustration with my own work performance. I couldn’t conduct a decent interview or keep my thoughts together for a story. I had grown deeply disturbed that the up-and-coming, wannabe hotshot reporters were getting the best stories. Twenty years ago that was me; I was the “it” girl. I still wanted to think I was a hotshot, but the past year had melted my ego. I wanted to go back to investigative reporting, but the way life had treated me, I wasn’t sure if any television station would take me.

I felt my age and sometimes older. Whenever I looked in the mirror, I was shocked by the pain in my eyes. Some of it stemmed from the consequences of my head injury, but most of my pain welled up from a deep place inside me. I thought I had shoved the past far enough away that I would never have to deal with it again. Looked like I was a fool, thinking I had that kind of control.

No. I didn’t like my state of mind. Not at all.

I was not sure what day it was currently. The days really ran together in my head. What I did know was that my sweet tooth seemed to be driving me crazier than I already felt. I managed to convince myself it would be okay to come out of hiding. I could run to the store, and no one would notice me.

I dressed quickly in my normal uniform for leaving the house: jeans and a T-shirt. I peeked at myself in the bathroom mirror and rubbed my hands across my chopped natural hair. The woman looking back at me had dark circles under her eyes, making them appear even larger. In my past life, I had worn weaves and make-up and had dressed up for the camera. I was surprised I didn’t miss that part of my life. It was weird at first, but my natural face, void of make-up, wasn’t all that bad. My milk chocolate skin was clear of the blemishes that came from following the regimen necessary to look good for the camera.

I walked to the front of the house, still amazed about how I had made it my home. This house was owned by my father’s sister. Claudia Robinson, better known as Aunt C, had been my salvation while I was growing up. She was the one person I could trust. As an adult, I didn’t come to visit her as often, but we stayed in touch. When Aunt C died in January, no one was more surprised than me to find out I had inherited her house. It was almost like she used the opportunity to draw me back home.

That woman had always had a plan.

My companion, Callie, a big fat calico cat, stirred in the corner of the living room as I strolled through. The large green eyes seemed to be asking, “Is it supper time yet?” I had never owned an animal, but this cat had become mine. Actually, it was more like I became her human. She had lived here before I did, and she merely tolerated me as the new person charged with feeding her and taking care of her other feline needs.

I scratched Callie under her chin and then grabbed my keys. “I will be back in a few minutes,” I said to the cat, as if she understood English.

The sun had gone down a while ago, so it was dark out. I opened the front door and winced as the screen door squealed in protest. Gnats were buzzing around the porch light. I was grateful that this light worked by motion detection, since I would forget to turn it on if that were not the case. I sucked in the evening air, raising my nose to sniff the Atlantic Ocean. As I climbed into my Honda Civic, I thought that the only good thing about my South Carolina hometown was its proximity to the ocean, a benefit I had missed all the years I lived in Charlotte.

I felt free, despite being back in Georgetown County. From the time I was a preteen, I had felt like a prisoner within these rural town limits. As I drove, like an alcoholic seeking a drink, my mind began to stray from my mission. The corner store was about three blocks from the house.

I turned into the convenience store parking lot and then checked my gas meter to see if the gas tank needed to be filled. I smirked. The tank was three-quarters full. It wasn’t like I was planning to go on a road trip anywhere. I’d really become a bit of a hermit, the only exception being when my sister and her daughters came by. I welcomed the company since my relationship with my sister had become strained over the years. I ticked off the days in my mind, determining that this had to be a Wednesday evening since I hadn’t talked to my sister since Sunday. I could count on my younger sister nagging me persistently to attend church with her and her family every Sunday morning.

I swung the car into a parking space and jumped out. I still kind of missed my SUV, but I had decided it was best to go with a more economical car. I was living off savings now. I noticed that parked on the other side of my car was a dark Ford Crown Victoria. Having hung out around investigators and law enforcement most of my career, I knew that vehicle had been a popular car with the police for years. I didn’t stop to observe if anyone was in the car. I was on a mission.

As I entered the store, I glanced over at the cash register and noticed the attendant. I stopped and waved like I was some beauty queen. “How are you doing, Marty?”

Marty Davis was an older guy. I estimated he was between forty-five and fifty. His hair was gray around the temples, and he wore it in a small Afro. He was a short man, but was definitely not slim. He looked tall and menacing behind the counter. I came in the store enough for him to know my face, so he seemed liked a gentle bear to me. Tonight, when he looked at me, his smile seemed tight and his eyes darted behind me.

I wasn’t in the mood to start a conversation, but I felt compelled to ask Marty, “Is everything okay?”

Marty blinked. “Yes. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day. How you doing today, ma’am? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I stay busy, Marty.” I stay busy trying not to lose my mind. “Please don’t call me ma’am. I’m not that old.”

He laughed, but I noticed his eyes were still focused on something past me, outside the window. I had this insane feeling that I should leave the store. I started to turn, but then I thought that was silly. I blamed my head for playing tricks on me, and the fact that Marty was exuding nervous energy didn’t help matters. I wanted to get what I had come for and get back home. Temptation had called, and I was hooked.

My head started to pound slightly as I walked down the candy aisle. I had this crazy urge to eat chocolate. There were rows and rows of different kinds of chocolate. I grabbed a chocolate bar that had peanuts and one that had caramel. Then I looked over at some chocolate-covered raisins. Yep, a chocolate binge was coming on strong.

Just as I reached down to grab another candy bar, I heard the bells above the store door jingle. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but my eyes slid toward the back corner of the store and up to where a big round mirror hung. The hairs on my arms stood up. My eyes were fixed on the mirror as I watched two, no, three young males enter the store. One of the boys sauntered down the aisle behind me, while the other two stayed near the front of the store. I couldn’t see their faces.

As a habit, I noted that one of the boys wore a hoodie over a red baseball cap. While the temperature had been a balmy eighty degrees earlier today, last night it dipped down to the fifties. The hoodie didn’t bother me, since I had a similar one in my closet. It was when I saw the back of the jacket one of the other boys was wearing that my senses went on full alert. I forgot about the last candy bar and decided to scoot around to the end of the aisle. I bent down, as if I was tying my shoe, hoping no one had noticed me.

Is that why Marty was acting nervous? I didn’t see the boys when I entered the store, but they could’ve arrived after that. Had they come by car on or on foot?

I was not into the profiling thing, but my years of investigating criminal cases had taught me to be on the alert. That jacket said “creepy” to me, especially about the person wearing it. It wasn’t your ordinary high school varsity jacket, even though it had a similar shape and style. The jacket was red, with a large white skull on the back. There were images around the skull, but from where I stood, observing in the mirror’s angle, I couldn’t make out the details.

I heard the tremble in Marty’s voice when he inquired, “Can I help you boys with something?”

My breath caught in my throat when I heard the boy with the jacket answer back, “Old man, I need you to empty out the register.”

I gulped and shook my head. “No, no, no,” I said softly under my breath. This could not be happening. My life had already flashed before my eyes a year ago. I peered up at the mirror, willing Marty not to play the tough guy and to just give the boys what they wanted. I also hoped that behind the counter Marty had a button connected to an alarm.

Marty’s voice was strong but nervous. “I don’t want any trouble. You boys need to leave. The police will be here any second.”

I watched the boy reach into his jacket and pull something out. “You don’t tell me what to do. I told you what to do.” He stepped closer to Marty. “Now do it or die.”

Do it or die. Looking into the mirror, I couldn’t tell if the boy had a gun in his hand, but my instincts said he’d just reached in and pulled out a weapon. I also realized I would be in a perilous situation if they saw me. All the progress I had made, despite the obstacles I’d faced, would be wasted if I got shot and killed. I could only hope that God would spare my life again. I didn’t deserve the second chance He had given me last year.

As that thought passed through my mind, I heard a loud bang. A flash in the mirror drew my attention. Horrified, I clasped my hands over my mouth as I watched, and the chocolate fell to the floor.

Marty yelled, “You don’t have to do this.”

I watched Marty stab at the buttons on the cash register in an effort to open the money drawer.

What happened next felt unreal. Another shot rang out, and I saw Marty’s body fly back and fall behind the counter. My hand was still over my mouth, and I sought to stifle the scream that had risen up in my throat. Why did the boy shoot the gun a second time? I wondered. It had looked like Marty was giving them the money. My body was frozen as my mind tried to figure out what to do next.

Then I heard the panicked voice of the boy who had walked down the aisle. “Man, why did you shoot him?”

The boy with the jacket swung around toward the boy down the aisle. That was when I saw the gun. The boy with the jacket was definitely the ringleader, and he was wearing shades. He had purposely tried to hide his features. He yelled at the boy in the aisle, “Shut up, or I will send you to the same place I just sent this dude!” He turned around to face the boy in the hoodie. “Let’s finish this. Get the money before the cops come.”

I wanted so badly to stand up and get Marty some help. I watched the boy in the hoodie reach across the counter and inside the open cash register, stuffing cash into his hoodie pockets, while the boy who did the shooting waved the gun around, scanning the store. I was glad I had ducked down.

The boy in the aisle seemed to be backing up to the end of the aisle, away from the front. It occurred to me that he would see me, so I scrambled around to the other aisle. I looked around at my surroundings, trying to figure out what to do. I turned my attention to the mirror to observe the approaching boy. He seemed to be scared and not sure of himself.

It suddenly dawned on me that if he turned around and looked up, he would be able to see me in the mirror. The mirror was angled in such a way that he might be able to see me crouching down like a hopeless idiot. As I attempted to steady my rapid breathing, distant police sirens sounded outside the store.

The boy wearing the red jacket shouted, “Let’s go! Now!” Then he headed out of the store, the boy in the hoodie running after him.

The boy who was down the aisle didn’t move as fast, and he turned his head as he went, as if looking for an alternate door through which to exit the store. As I crouched on the floor, pain shot through my calves. But that pain didn’t rock me as much as the glimpse I got of the boy in the aisle. Despite the dark blue Charlotte Bobcats cap hanging over his eyes, when he turned, I saw his face in the mirror.

I know him.

I sucked in my breath sharply as I watched the young man finally decide to run toward the front of the store. As he exited the store, in the back of my mind I hoped he didn’t get caught. If he was who I thought he was, I felt for sure that young man was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I waited a minute or two, and then I stood, feeling sharp pains up and down my legs, especially the leg that had the broken ankle a year ago. I limped to the front of the store, almost tripping over my own feet.

“Marty! Marty, can you hear me?” I shouted.

I peered over the counter, catching a glimpse of blood spatter across the tile floor and on items behind the counter. Marty lay in a pool of blood, which appeared to have formed around his head. That boy had aimed directly at Marty’s head. The second shot had been unnecessary, and so vicious. The boy had shot to kill him.

Why was the boy in the Bobcats cap with them?

From the corner of my eye, I could see flashing blue lights as a vehicle pulled into the store parking lot. I would have to figure out what to tell the police when they came inside. I hoped with all my heart that I was mistaken about whose face I had seen. He was family. My family had a reputation is this town, which was one of the many reasons why I had left.

Wednesday, 11:15 p.m.

I leaned up against my car, trying to shake the images of Marty’s body in the pool of blood from my fragile mind. Just what I needed for my already sleep-deprived life.

The female paramedic came over and asked again, “‘Ma’am, you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” I had told the officers I was fine, but my limping hadn’t convinced them that I wasn’t hurt. The paramedics were certainly not needed for Marty.

“Yes, I’m sure.” I glanced away, wishing she would leave me alone. I really didn’t need to be bringing attention to myself. Besides, I wasn’t hurt. Despite the fact that I had sustained no injuries, I was shaking like a drug addict going through withdrawal. I had wrapped my arms tightly around myself, but the night air had penetrated my T-shirt, which felt slightly damp from sweat.

I wanted to go home, but the police wanted to question me. I looked nonchalantly for the boys amid the growing crowd of onlookers, but they appeared to be gone. That was good, but I still would have liked to get a closer look at one of the boys. He had seemed so familiar to me. I hoped my brain hadn’t been playing tricks on me. It wouldn’t be the first time when what my eyes saw and what my brain deciphered didn’t quite connect.

I glanced to my right and saw two men walking toward me. Having worked around law enforcement, I was pretty sure the white man and the black man in suit and tie were investigators from the City of Georgetown Police Department.

The white man, the taller of the two, stepped in front of me. He towered over me, but he had a kind face and a gentle voice. He said, “I hear you witnessed what happened here, Ms.—”

“Serena Manchester,” the other investigator said, finishing for him. He seemed to flex his muscles, which were definitely huge under his jacket

I was a bit shocked that the man had just identified me. His face could have been handsome, but right now he was staring at me like he was ready to haul me into the station. I wouldn’t go without a fight, because I had seen all I could handle for one night. I narrowed my eyes. “How do you know who I am?”

The investigator replied, “I’m from the Charlotte area. I remember seeing you report the news. WYNN News, right? What brings you down to this little town?”

I hoped my face didn’t display the disdain that was seeping through my mind. Who knew coming out to the corner store would cause me this much upheaval? I scolded myself for my chocolate weakness. If I’d stayed in the house, I wouldn’t be an eyewitness to a crime and I wouldn’t be forced to respond to questions about my recent exodus to my hometown. I managed to quell my emotions a bit before answering, with what I hoped was a pleasant smile.”I don’t believe you two gentlemen have introduced yourselves.”

The taller man responded, “So sorry, ma’am. I’m Investigator Oliver Baldwin. This is my partner, Investigator Malcolm Moses. We’re from Georgetown CID.”

Criminal Investigation Department. I was familiar with criminal investigators. I nodded but didn’t look at Investigator Moses. I had no intention of letting him know why I was here in Georgetown. What did that have to do with the crime that had just been committed, anyway? Besides, I still wasn’t sure why attending my aunt’s funeral back in January had resulted in my extended stay.

What I did know was these men wanted my eyewitness account. “I came out to tonight to get some snacks. A few minutes after I entered the store, two . . . I mean, three young men entered the store.”

Investigator Moses stepped closer to me. “Can you describe them?”

The face of the boy I thought I had recognized flashed before me. I couldn’t be sure. “I can’t describe their faces. I was in the back of the store, trying not to be seen.”

Investigator Moses said, “You said you were trying not to be seen. What prompted you to want to hide?”

I hated to admit what I had been thinking at the time. “I guess the way the boys walked in the store just felt odd to me. One of them had on a really creepy jacket. It had a skull on the back. I wouldn’t think that would be something a kid would wear around here.”

The two investigators glanced at each other.

Investigator Baldwin nodded. “I’m not familiar with that jacket, but there are certain clothes and colors we look for in certain crimes. Given these perps are younger, it’s quite possible tonight’s robbery and shooting are gang-related crimes.”

I stared incredulously at the men. “A gang? Here?”

Investigator Moses shook his head. “Believe us, it’s been a challenge, because no one expects the types of crimes that used to be only in inner cities to take place in a small Southern town.”

As a reporter in the not so distant past, I really shouldn’t have been surprised, but in the back of my mind an uneasy feeling started to form. What if the boy who came down the aisle saw me? I wondered. I thought I had recognized him, but maybe it wasn’t the boy I knew. That boy was a good kid. There was no way he was part of a gang. I also knew that I didn’t want to get caught up in this mess if a gang was involved. That type of harassment I didn’t need. I suddenly wanted to head home and lock myself up in the house.

Investigator Baldwin asked, “Were the boys wearing anything else that stood out to you?”

A baseball cap came to mind. It was the dark blue cap with the Charlotte Bobcats insignia on the front. What else was he wearing? No, no, no. I can’t say what he was wearing.

I knew how important what I had witnessed was in helping the police. I simply wasn’t sure of what I had seen. “I’m trying to remember.”

Investigator Baldwin leaned forward. “Take your time, Ms. Manchester. You can do this. You said there were two or three boys?”

No, I can’t. I . . .