“Some guy Buchanan uses to... I don’t know, clean up his messes? Themessbeingyou, and yourbreak-the-systemagenda. Now, if you don’t mind, I just saw Aaron Douglas walk out of that door!” Artie glanced over his shoulder at someone across the street. “Mr. Douglas!” he called, suddenly animating. “Hi! I’m your biggest fan! Can I ask you a few questions?”
He scurried off, leaving me alone with what he said.Use Artie like Buchanan uses Pierre...
Charlie had used Artie to dig through my things, rob me of my work, unearth my private life. That meant this Pierre person is doing something similar for Buchanan—silencing people.
Buchanan would pay whatever it took to spin a story that kept them safe. If Pierre was the best money could buy, then maybe whoever set the fire hired him—or someone just like him—to do it.
Taking Charlie’s petty vendetta out of the picture made everything clearer. This was never solely about me. It was about the Blue House. And it stank of corruption. Whoever did it had deep enough pockets to get away with it. Maybe Pierre was a dead end—just another hired hand in a city full of them—but his was the only name I had.
Whether it led somewhere or not, I had to follow it.
15.
Paranoia rattled through my nerves—made me jumpy with fear at the noise in the city. I had a feeling someone wanted to kill me. Like they were watching me, waiting for the chance to finish what they started.
It wasn’t the first time I’d felt this way, but now I couldn’t shake it. I’d escaped death, and it felt as though it was impatient with my outrunning it. It was on my back closer than ever.
In the late afternoon, the doors at 40 West 135th still swung open. A place that had once seen the strength of the UNIA was now a quiet sanctuary. Loners drifted in, seeking peace from a world that seemed to want nothing but to cause harm.
I pushed through the heavy doors, slipping inside. The hush of the nearly empty church was only broken by the shuffle of occasional footsteps.
I knelt at the altar, staring up at Jesus, who looked down from the stained glass, nails in his hand and feet. The sight of him, and the mood of the church, brought to mind everyone I’dknown who simply was not here anymore.
“This is all too much, God,” I whispered. “Why didn’t you take me with them?”
I waited for an answer, but nothing came—just the creak of wood and the flickering light from some candles in my periphery.
Someone cleared their throat behind me though, making me jump. I turned and found none other than Jordan, sitting in a pew two rows back, watching me with a faint smile from under a dramatic church hat.
“Funny seeing you here,” she said wryly.
“Oh, hi,” I replied, trying to steady my voice at the sight of her. “I... um... didn’t know you were a churchgoer.”
“I don’t put too much stock in what was forced on us,” she said, folding her gloved hands in her lap. “But faith is different. You can feel it, use it, without the books or the rules. And I feel it in this place.”
Jordan’s words made me feel closer to her, in a way. We all tried to hold onto some belief to get us through the rough times.
I went and sat in the pew beside her, and Jordan seemed satisfied by it, giving me a smirk and a slow nod.
“I hear you’ve been spending more time with young Jay,” she said. “You like the boy?”
“I—I don’t—”
“Ah, stuttering.” She gave a knowing smile. “There’s my answer. I asked you to keep an eye on him, and now you’re falling for him.”
“I’m not falling,” I stammered. “Jay’s just a friend.”
Jordan’s eyes carried skepticism. “So, he’s not like his father? Not another rich boy looking to rip Harlem to shreds?”
“Not at all. Jay has his contradictions, sure. But he’s not like his father. He doesn’t dream of power and business. He cares.”
“So, you know the father?” Jordan asked, eyebrows raising.
“No,” I said, feeling like I’d revealed too much. “Well, we met one time.”
“So he’s power hungry.” She pursed her lips. “I knew it. I’m wary of anyone close with someone who dreams of power, even if the kid himself is harmless. Power’s a family business. I got the feeling Old Gatsby’s the type to change the game on me when it suits him.”
“Maybe, but Jay can’t help what he came from.” My gaze drifted around the church and then landed on a few worshippers sitting with their heads bowed, hands clasped, desperate for a miracle to solve things. “Anyway, I’ve got bigger things to worry about than Jay. Like why the man setting fires around Harlem is still on the loose.”
