“I hope so,” she sighs. “We have to find her. I can’t get those medical records or Honey’s words out of my mind. He hurt her, bad, and often, and for too damn long. She ran. Somehow, she escaped and she can’t go back to him. She just can’t. Only one reason Marcelin wants her back and we both know what that is.”
“He won’t have a chance to do it. Trust me on that. First, we find her then I’ll handle him. You’re lying on an expert shooter who doesn’t miss. He’ll be dead before he can think about doing shit to her,” he assures her and Sunjiya sighs, comforted.
Her body melts into his, and for the first time, she closes her eyes and relaxes into his words, deciding to trust and believe him. She plants a soft kiss on his chest then pads her fingers across the intricate art inked on his neck. He kisses the top of her head and caresses her back. Body to body, skin to skin, they lay until both drift to sleep.
“That’s Cades at the stop sign. You’re making a right there,” Sunjiya directs. “This neighborhood looks new,” she comments.
They’ve been on the road on a mission since nine this morning. After a wonderful night with Akeem, Sunjiya didn’t wake until eight. She found herself alone in the king size bed. When the sun graced the sky at nine after six, he was up and out of the room. Since Mexico Beach is a small beach town, there’s no place to shoot so he took a run along the shoreline, taking in the beautiful scenery.
Sunjiya slept through his departure and return. He was showered and sitting on the room’s balcony when she opened her eyes. After handling her morning routine, she briefly joined him on his awaiting lap, kissed him passionately, then dressed. They were in the rental on their way to the first stop by a little after nine.
Unfortunately, the first four stops were busts, even the first one on the list Akeem was sure would be the one. None of them are Aunt Pri. Pritha Richards, at 191 Cades Court, is the last stop and their final hope for finding Aunt Pri.
Unlike the other neighborhoods they visited this morning, this one is newer and less lived in. It’s minutes from the city’s small downtown in the middle of a large residential area off of Palmetto Bluff Trail. Some homes are still under construction and various realtor signs litter the yards and lots. The community playground and pickleball courts look both unbothered and underutilized. It’s definitely a new community.
Pritha’s gray and white, single-family home is the fourth house on the left. A tan Camry is parked in the driveway in front of the two-car garage. Akeem drives just past it and parkson the side of an open lot on the opposite side of the street. Before killing the engine, he looks at Sunjiya and her pensive but beautiful face.
“This is going to pan out,” he says, trying to assure her through his own doubts.
Pritha is the youngest of the five possibles, in her mid-forties. Unknown to Akeem, she’s a substitute teacher at Port St. Joe Elementary School and doesn’t have a full-day assignment today. She’s in her kitchen, relaxing and listening toShadows and Whispers onaudiobook until she reports at twelve forty-five for a half-day.
“I really hope so,” Sunjiya says, then sighs.
As if the universe wants to add to her apprehension and worry, Akeem’s cell vibrates with a text from Marcelin.
Marcelin: Update?
Akeem: None.
Akeem’s response is simple. All Marcelin’s going to receive. Hopefully, Pritha Richards turns out to be Aunt Pri and she can lead them to Tanjaya. Akeem’s fingertips itch to pull a trigger and he can see Marcelin’s bitch ass face on the end of his gun.
“Who was that?” she asks when she sees the tight look on Akeem’s face.
“Marcelin,” he admits reluctantly and the look he wants to avoid appears on her face.She’s really concerned. “He’s just checking in. That’s all,” he says and she nods. “You ready?”
“Yes. Let’s go.”
He exits first then opens her door. When she steps out, he feels compelled to comfort her, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her.
“She’s the one,” he says before kissing her lips tenderly.
With his hand planted on the small of her back, they walk toward the house. Before they make it to the porch, the front door opens and a statuesque, honey-toned, middle-aged woman with a beautiful face stands in the doorway gushing. Her smile broadens the closer they get.
“It’s her. It has to be,” Sunjiya says excitedly. He smiles, relieved as hell.
This is the break they need.
“Tan-jaya!’ Pritha practically screeches as she rushes out the door. As soon as she’s within arm’s length, her arms fly around Sunjiya and she pulls her in for a warm embrace. “You made it out. Thank God!” she cries. She abruptly releases Sunjiya and runs her hands down her arms. “Are…you…okay?” she asks, examining her.
“I’m fine and…” Sunjiya says, then pauses. Her next words come out at a glacial pace as she explains who she is. “I’m not Tanjaya though,” she begins and Pritha’s entire body slumps as she steps back.
Pritha stares at Sunjiya, waiting for her to say something, anything that makes sense because what she said isn’t. This is Tanjaya. This is the little girl she fostered for the first two years of her life, the same little girl she found years later and reconnected with. The exact same girl who reached out to her when shit with Marcelin got bad. This is her Tanjaya.So what the hell is she saying to me?
“And who are you supposed to be then?” Pritha says snarkily when Sunjiya takes too damn long to explain herself. She crosses her arms as she awaits a response.
Sunjiya inhales then exhales before saying, “Her twin sister, Sunjiya.”
“Excuse me? Her what?”
