What The Heart Wants

*****

It took Jackson three hours to walk home after torching the Mercedes truck. He was anxious about how much money this night was going to cost him. Bail money was going to be paid for whoever got nabbed at the shop. The cars that were now at the police impound would have to be replaced. Plus, the warehouse was no good. He would have to find another space to operate out of. The client was going to be pissed they missed the deadline, and this wasn’t the kind of client you let down. Jackson hoped he could rectify the order before Demetri sent his goons to track him down. Every scenario played continuously and none of their outcomes worked in his favor.

The sun was rising as Jackson walked up the steps to his brownstone. He lived on quiet city block far from where his warehouse operated. He never stole out of his own neighborhood, but his neighbors gave him great ideas of where to find good merchandise. None of them were aware of that, of course. To all of them, Jackson was just a hard working mechanic who stayed to himself.

Of all the options and items that needed to be done, Jackson chose to get some rest. He would lose a lot of sleep once he began to deal with the police raid and the sh*t storm that was sure to follow. He stripped out of his clothes, piece by piece, on his way to the bedroom. The large bed was heaven as Jackson collapsed onto it. Sleep hit him instantly as soon as his head hit the pillow. He’d only been sleep a short while when there was a knock at the door.

The rapping on the door penetrated his slumber like a hot knife through butter. Maybe if he just stayed still, whoever was out there would take the hint that he didn’t want to be disturbed. However, five straight minutes of thumping and incessant door bell ringing forced him to get out of bed. Grumbling and cursing ensued as he dragged himself to the door.

Two detectives flashed their badge at the peephole after Jackson asked them to identify themselves. Shock overtook them when he opened the door stark naked with an attitude. “What the fu*k do you want?” Jackson’s muscular body tensed as the anger and frustration of him being forced to get out bed increased every second he stood there.

One of the detectives turned away refusing to stare at his nakedness, while the other concentrated on keeping his eyes locked onto Jackson’s face. “Mr. Davis, there have been a series of car thefts throughout the city, and we happened to find a few of those stolen vehicles in the warehouse you own by the docks. Can you please come with us down to the precinct and answer a few questions? After you get dressed, of course.”

The officer’s question was answered with the door slamming shut. He began shouting through the closed door, hoping to embarrass Jackson into opening it back up again. “Mr. Davis! Please don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be. You are not under arrest, but you can be for obstruction. I suggest you come out immediately, or else we…”

Jackson swung the door open. He’d thrown on some sneakers and a sweat suit to go with them to the station.

“Oh, I apologize. I didn’t know you were…” the detective began.

Jackson held his hand up to silence him. “Let’s just get this over with! I’m tired and I’ve had a long night.” He wondered if the officers had any incriminating evidence outside of the warehouse being in his name. They would have put me in cuffs if they did, he thought. So, he sat quietly in the back of the police car the entire way to the station.

The bars over the windows in the interrogation room made the room feel colder as Jackson sat behind a long metal table. His reflection stared back at him from a large mirror that he assumed the detectives were on the other side of. For someone who wasn’t under arrest, they sure were taking their time getting around to questioning him. If it was a tactical maneuver, then it wasn’t working in their favor as Jackson’s patience was wearing thin. All he needed was a few hours of sleep and he could deal with this situation the best way possible. But until that happened, he figured that he would just answer their questions as honestly as he could, without incriminating himself or anyone in his crew.

The silence in the room was disrupted when the detective entered and sat down across from Jackson at the table. “Hello, Mr. Davis. Are you good? Would you like me to get you anything?”

“No, thank you,” Jackson replied.

“Okay then. Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? Where were you last night between the hours of 6 p.m. and 2 a.m.?” he asked.

Jackson rolled his eyes and lied. “I was at home.”

“Can anyone corroborate that for you?” he questioned as he scribbled away in his tiny notepad.

Jackson wanted to smack it from his hand but took a deep breath to restrain his anger. “Ask my neighbor, Mrs. Partridge. She always bangs on the wall at 9:30 to tell me to turn my TV down.”

“So, no spouse or significant other to vouch for your whereabouts for the entire evening?”

“No!”

“Are you aware that a known associate of yours, Nicholas Derby, was arrested last night while bringing a stolen vehicle to your warehouse?”

“I didn’t know that, but since he was arrested, how much is his bail?” Jackson tried changing the subject.

“I wouldn’t know that, Mr. Davis. The judge won’t be in until Monday morning,” the detective answered, trying to read Jackson for any signs that he may be lying. He pressed him for more information before hitting him with one last question. “Oh, can you tell me about a Toyota Corolla that was stolen and returned yesterday morning?”

“Nope, I can’t. But if the car was returned, can you truly say that there was a crime committed?” Jackson smirked.

“Mr. Davis, I don’t like you,” the detective dropped his formalities. “I know you were behind that Toyota Corolla incident, and I know you had something to do with those stolen cars in your warehouse. So, guess what?”

“What?”

“You’re under arrest for grand theft auto.” The detective couldn’t risk the idea of Jackson taking off… even if they didn’t have enough to convict him. They could hold him for the rest of the weekend and have the judge take away his passport at his bail hearing. All Jackson did was shake his head. He knew they didn’t have much, but it was enough, and he wasn’t going to contest it. That’s what he paid lawyers for.

*****

Paula’s head slumped against her desk early Monday morning as the weekend events slowly caught up to her. Rebecca had taken her out to just about every club and bar in the downtown area. She didn’t know how she did that and kept up with all of her work. The amount of energy it took to drag her body out of bed was way beyond Paula’s scope of functioning. Her head was pounding and everything on her body hurt. She hadn’t worn heels that high in forever, but the plus side was the amount of attention she and Rebecca snagged out on the dance floor. Even after she forced her to work out with her early Sunday morning before heading to church, Rebecca was still moving through her day like they lounged on the couch all weekend. Paula couldn’t fathom where she got all the energy from.