friend?”
Train looked over his shoulder and flushed. “That’s my partner, Jack Cassian,” he said, looking guilty.
“Nice to see you, ma’am,” Jack offered.
“Humph,” the old woman grunted, turning her attention back to Train. “You boys here on official business, then?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well . . .” Darius sputtered, caught off guard by the question.
“Never mind,” Thelma said. “I don’t want to know. My business is my business, and yours is yours.” She cast a quick glance over toward the Washington house, where the detectives had clearly been headed before she stopped them. “The same goes for everyone else in this neighborhood.” She bowed her head a moment, as if in mourning. Then she raised it again and her smile had returned, though Darius thought he saw a tinge of sorrow in the corner of her mouth. “I’m just glad to see you, son,” she said. “It’s people like you that have given a lot of us hope.” She looked over his shoulder again, toward Cassian. “You know you’re riding with a legend here, right, mister?” she called out.
“He’s mentioned it,” Cassian replied, smiling, enjoying Train’s embarrassment at the attention.
“Best damned athlete this city’s ever produced in any sport— least this corner of it. An’ one of the finest people, too.”
“Yes ma’am,” Cassian said. “We’re still debating where to put the statue down at the station.”
She looked at Train again and nodded toward Cassian. “Smart mouth on that one, huh?” she said quietly.
Train looked over at his partner. “Yeah,” he admitted. “You’d like him.”
She nodded slowly. “Probably would, at that.” She looked down at her hands. “I won’t keep you anymore, son,” she said, “but I sure am glad to see you.”
“Thank you.” Train took her hand and kissed it again. “Me too.”
“Now you git,” she ordered, and Train turned and walked with Cassian back toward the house where Shantal and Jerome Washington lived.
Chapter Nin e
T HE DOOR SWUNG OPEN on the second knock, and Train won dered whether the woman standing at the threshold had been watching the exchange at the house next door. Shantal Washington had aged significantly since Train had seen her at Jerome’s sentencing. Although he’d been the arresting officer, his testimony at the hearing had been muted, and he’d argued for leniency, telling the judge that he’d known both Jerome and his family for most of his life, and that he believed there was still something worth saving in the young man. Shantal Washington’s attitude toward Train hadn’t softened, though, and she still blamed him for the two years her son had lost in prison.
“Shantal,” Train said, nodding at the woman in the door. “How you doin’?”
“What’re you doin’ here, D-Train ?” Shantal’s voice was full of anger as she spat out his high school nickname.
Train sighed, realizing that there was no way to ease his way into the encounter. “We need to talk to Jerome,” he said.
“What fo’?” Shantal Washington demanded. “Ain’t you done enough to him yet?”
“I think it’d be better if we left that between him and us,” Darius answered. “He here?”
“No.” She shook her head. “He ain’t.”
Train frowned at Cassian, then turned back to Jerome’s mother. “This is the address he listed with his parole officer. If he moves, he’s supposed to let them know down there. If he doesn’t, it’s a violation of his parole.”
Jerome’s mother looked nervous. “He still lives here, he just ain’t here right now.”
“Is he at work?” Train pressed.
Shantal Washington bit her lip. “He got fired,” she finally admitted, shaking her head. “His boss said you couldn’t trust no convict.” She shot a glare at Train. “That’s what you did to him.”
The muscles in Train’s jaw clenched as he fought back the urge to defend himself. It wouldn’t do any good, and it would
Train looked over his shoulder and flushed. “That’s my partner, Jack Cassian,” he said, looking guilty.
“Nice to see you, ma’am,” Jack offered.
“Humph,” the old woman grunted, turning her attention back to Train. “You boys here on official business, then?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well . . .” Darius sputtered, caught off guard by the question.
“Never mind,” Thelma said. “I don’t want to know. My business is my business, and yours is yours.” She cast a quick glance over toward the Washington house, where the detectives had clearly been headed before she stopped them. “The same goes for everyone else in this neighborhood.” She bowed her head a moment, as if in mourning. Then she raised it again and her smile had returned, though Darius thought he saw a tinge of sorrow in the corner of her mouth. “I’m just glad to see you, son,” she said. “It’s people like you that have given a lot of us hope.” She looked over his shoulder again, toward Cassian. “You know you’re riding with a legend here, right, mister?” she called out.
“He’s mentioned it,” Cassian replied, smiling, enjoying Train’s embarrassment at the attention.
“Best damned athlete this city’s ever produced in any sport— least this corner of it. An’ one of the finest people, too.”
“Yes ma’am,” Cassian said. “We’re still debating where to put the statue down at the station.”
She looked at Train again and nodded toward Cassian. “Smart mouth on that one, huh?” she said quietly.
Train looked over at his partner. “Yeah,” he admitted. “You’d like him.”
She nodded slowly. “Probably would, at that.” She looked down at her hands. “I won’t keep you anymore, son,” she said, “but I sure am glad to see you.”
“Thank you.” Train took her hand and kissed it again. “Me too.”
“Now you git,” she ordered, and Train turned and walked with Cassian back toward the house where Shantal and Jerome Washington lived.
Chapter Nin e
T HE DOOR SWUNG OPEN on the second knock, and Train won dered whether the woman standing at the threshold had been watching the exchange at the house next door. Shantal Washington had aged significantly since Train had seen her at Jerome’s sentencing. Although he’d been the arresting officer, his testimony at the hearing had been muted, and he’d argued for leniency, telling the judge that he’d known both Jerome and his family for most of his life, and that he believed there was still something worth saving in the young man. Shantal Washington’s attitude toward Train hadn’t softened, though, and she still blamed him for the two years her son had lost in prison.
“Shantal,” Train said, nodding at the woman in the door. “How you doin’?”
“What’re you doin’ here, D-Train ?” Shantal’s voice was full of anger as she spat out his high school nickname.
Train sighed, realizing that there was no way to ease his way into the encounter. “We need to talk to Jerome,” he said.
“What fo’?” Shantal Washington demanded. “Ain’t you done enough to him yet?”
“I think it’d be better if we left that between him and us,” Darius answered. “He here?”
“No.” She shook her head. “He ain’t.”
Train frowned at Cassian, then turned back to Jerome’s mother. “This is the address he listed with his parole officer. If he moves, he’s supposed to let them know down there. If he doesn’t, it’s a violation of his parole.”
Jerome’s mother looked nervous. “He still lives here, he just ain’t here right now.”
“Is he at work?” Train pressed.
Shantal Washington bit her lip. “He got fired,” she finally admitted, shaking her head. “His boss said you couldn’t trust no convict.” She shot a glare at Train. “That’s what you did to him.”
The muscles in Train’s jaw clenched as he fought back the urge to defend himself. It wouldn’t do any good, and it would
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