I recognized my ex-husband Marcus the second he stepped out of room 1402 at the Grand Monarch Hotel, holding hands with his new fiancé.
Across town, in the sterile comfort of a black luxury sedan parked discreetly on a side street, Duke Washington met with Commander Raymond Hollis. The hum of the engine was the only sound, a low thrum against the tension in the air. Hollis, the man sworn to uphold the law in South Side Chicago, sat stiffly, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror every few seconds.
Duke, ever the picture of tailored composure, leaned back against the leather seats. He placed a heavy, unmarked briefcase on the center console.
“Raymond,” Duke said, his voice smooth as silk. “I understand you have an… acquisition problem. A new property development, perhaps?”
Hollis cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. “My pension isn’t what it used to be, Duke. And the wife fancies a bit more… security for our golden years.”
Duke chuckled, a low, humorless sound. He popped the latches on the briefcase. Inside, banded stacks of crisp hundred-dollar bills gleamed under the dim interior light. Beside them, a folder containing neatly folded property deeds.
“Fifteen bundles,” Duke said, indicating the cash. “$150,000. And the titles to that commercial strip in Oak Lawn. Six prime storefronts. Already cleared for development.”
Hollis’s eyes widened, a flicker of raw greed momentarily replacing his practiced stoicism. He reached out, his fingers brushing the edge of the cash.
“That’s… generous, Duke,” Hollis said, his voice a little hoarse.
“Generosity has its expectations,” Duke replied, closing the briefcase with a soft click. “I have a problem. A ghost from my past. A woman named Lisa Washington-Gaines.”
Hollis frowned. “Washington-Gaines? She’s been off the radar for years. Malik’s sister, isn’t she?”
“She’s resurfaced,” Duke said, his voice hardening. “And she’s a flight risk. She’s also connected to a cold case. The disappearance of a petty dealer named Jamal Dixon. Happened three years ago, right around the time she vanished.”
Hollis steepled his fingers, a calculating look in his eyes. “Felony murder, you say? A warrant would be… expeditious.”
“Expeditious and broad,” Duke affirmed, a thin smile on his lips. “I need a tactical SWAT search. Every known safehouse, every address she might have used. South Side. West Side. All of it. I want her dragged back in, preferably before she can talk to anyone important.”
Hollis picked up the briefcase, testing its weight. He met Duke’s gaze, a chilling understanding passing between them.
“Consider it done,” Hollis said, his voice now confident. “By morning, we’ll have warrants on every desk. A full sweep.”
Duke simply nodded. “Good. Remember, Raymond. Loyalty is an investment. And I expect a good return.”
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours