EXCERPT I arrived at my duplex on Dorset around eight-thirty. I knew something wasn't quite right when I walked through the door, even before I turned on the lights. But when I heard an exasperated voice exclaim, "It's about time," I almost wet myself. I spun around, almost knocking over a potted plant, and saw a figure sitting in my wicker rocking chair. The last time someone had been waiting for me in my apartment I almost died. So, I wasn't feeling very hospitable. I flipped the light switch and saw that my visitor was Timmy Milton. He was looking at me like I shouldn't be surprised to see him. "Boy, I almost killed you," I said and meant it. I could have killed him for scaring me. "Yeah, like what was you gonna do, Kendra. Beat me to death with your purse?" I looked down and saw that I had my purse clenched in my hand like a weapon. I relaxed my grip and walked over and sat down on the couch opposite Timmy. He had on the same baggy jeans and Dallas Cowboys Jersey he had on the last time I saw him. "How did you get in here?" "I got my ways," he said with a mysterious smile. It was apparent that he thought I should be impressed. "Do you know the police are at your place? I saw them searching through your car." I was hoping to wipe the smile off his face and I wasn't disappointed. Timmy buried his face in his hands and groaned. "This is bullshit, man. I can't believe this is happening to me. I didn't kill that chick! I didn't even know her." "Do you mean Inez Rollins?" I asked already knowing the answer. "Yeah." "Then why are the police looking for you?" I asked. Timmy sighed, sat back in the rocker, and gave me an exasperated look. "I was set up, Kendra," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I didn't know what I was expecting him to say. But somehow I thought I was going to get a more original answer. Weren't the prisons filled with innocent people who blamed their predicaments on either bad luck or having been set up by the government or persons unknown? I didn't know what to say. Instead, I resorted to the one thing that always gives me comfort during a stressful time: food. "Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?" I asked, getting up from the couch and heading into my tiny kitchen. Timmy was hot on my heels. "Naw. I ain't hungry. I'm serious, Kendra. I was set up and I know who did it!" I pulled two cans of Pepsi from my fridge and tossed one to him. "Okay," I said, pulling the tab on my can, "Let's hear all about it." I didn't mean to sound so sarcastic and felt bad when I saw the hurt look that flashed across Timmy's face. I sat down at the kitchen table and gestured for him to sit as well. We sat in awkward silence with Timmy looking like a sulky child for several long minutes during which I realized I was treating Timmy like he was still a crack head. I was fine with him as long as everything was okay but at the first hint of trouble, I automatically figured he had to be lying. There was only one way to find out. "I'm listening, Timmy," I said softly. "What's going on?" "Well, you know I had some problems a while back with drugs?" He said not quite able to look me in the eye. I nodded. "Back in Detroit when I was usin', I stole somethin' from a guy who sold drugs and was tight with my dealer." "What did you steal?" I asked. "That ain't important," he said, shifting nervously in his seat. "Well, it must have been pretty damned important if he's setting you up for someone's murder." "It's not just what I stole that's the problem. It's what happened after I stole it. See, the dude sees me steal it outta his ride, and starts chasin' me. Must a chased me for three blocks. I'm jettin' when all of a sudden I hear somebody holler and then this big thud. I look back and see the dude flyin' through the air. The car that hit him just kept on goin' didn't even stop." "He's dead?" "Yeah, he landed on his head. Now, his boy, Vaughn Castle, who I used to buy from, is out to get me 'cause he blames me." "So why set you up? Why isn't he trying to kill you?" "'Cause everyone knows he's got a beef with me, and if I turn up dead they gonna be looking at him. If he catches another case it'll be his third strike. He'll get sent away for life. Inez was his girl. Hell, I think he smoked her himself. Then, he saw an opportunity to get back at me by settin' me up." I didn't know what shocked me more, what Timmy had just told me about his past, or finding out that Inez Rollins was dating a drug dealer. I hadn't known Inez well. But I knew she was a talented beautician, hard working and, according to Lynette, had planned to open her own beauty shop. So, she must have been ambitious as well. She was always polite and friendly whenever I'd seen her out in public. And she was a minister's daughter, for crying out loud. She just didn't seem the type to get involved with a drug dealer. But what the hell do I know about the types of women who date drug dealers? Diddly squat, apparently. Suddenly my boring little life didn't seem so bad. "How did he set you up? What evidence do the police have against you?" "Somebody said they saw me runnin' away from the crime scene. Ain't nobody seen me runnin' away from anywhere," he said angrily. "That's it? The police are after you because of something someone said they saw?" Timmy started shifting around in his seat again and I knew there was more to the story. "Well, when they came to the crib today, I heard them talking to my mom. I was takin' a nap, and when I figured out what was goin' on, I snuck out my window. I called my mom and she said they found something in my car and towed it away --" "Please don't tell me you used my phone to call your mother?" I asked interrupting him. All I could imagine were the police tracing the call and showing up here, surrounding the house, and dragging Timmy and me off in handcuffs after tear-gassing us. I needed to stop watching so much TV. "I ain't that stupid, Kendra. Chill. I know they can trace that kinda shit. I used a payphone. I don't even have my cell. I lost it." "You said this happened in Detroit. What is this Vaughn guy doing here? Did he follow you?" "Naw. He lives here. Runs drugs from here to Detroit. Man, I didn't want to come back here, but with no job, a record, and no diploma, I had to go wherever my mom went. I didn't have no place else to go." "So, now what? Are you going to the police?" It was a stupid question and I knew it. But hope springs eternal when you're trying to remain uninvolved. "Are you crazy!" he said, jumping up from the table so quickly his chair fell over with a bang. "Calm down, Timmy. It was just a question." I was hoping my landlady, Mrs. Carson, hadn't heard the loud noise and gotten scared. Ever since my brush with death four months ago, she'd been keeping a closer eye on me than usual. "What about your mother? What does she think?" "My mom knows I didn't kill nobody," he said, picking up the chair and slouching back down into it. "She told me to lay low until she could figure something out. She don't want to see another son locked up." Timmy was referring to his older brother, Dell, who was in prison for armed robbery. I knew Olivia Milton had to be freaking out right now. "Will you help me? I didn't do it, Kendra. I swear. You believe me, don't you?" He looked so scared and who could blame him. I closed my eyes and pressed the cold can of Pepsi against my forehead, trying to relieve the throbbing headache that had suddenly crept up on me. Did I believe Timmy? I really didn't want to because I knew what believing him would mean. The last thing I needed was to get involved in another murder investigation. But the problem was that I did believe Timmy and I knew that with his past drug history and criminal record the police were going to view him as guilty until proven innocent. The deck was stacked against him. "Yes," I said, opening my eyes, " I believe you. But there's just one thing I need to know," I looked him in the eye. "What?" he replied warily. "Are you using drugs again?" "Hell naw!" he said, sitting up straight in the chair for the first time. "Then I'll do what I can." Lord help me. © Angela Henry