SUFFER WITH ME Read online

  “I asked you to speak comfortably,” she begins. “So I’ll do the same. But I want you to keep looking straight ahead, because I’m shy. If you disagree with what I say, you can let go off my hand and I’ll drop the subject. But, if you agree, I will lead you. Okay?”

  “Aiight.”

  “You suffer so much, that words can’t begin to remedy your wounds. But I want to ease your pain, because I know I can’t stop it. The strongest weapon against pain is love. Since I don’t love you, I would like to fuck your pain away. If only for a moment. My home isn’t far. Can you allow me to give you a reprieve from your burden?” Benji says nothing but continues to hold her hand. They continue walking with Ms. Ciccio leading.

  Suffiyah sits at her desk with her face in her palms. She is extremely fatigued. Today has been an emotional rollercoaster in every sense of the term. First the crime scene pulled at her heart strings. The way these young women are being demoralized by these men. Giving away their virtue trustingly before they turn around and find their souls fleeing this world rapidly. It’s beyond saddening. Then they found the victim’s cellphone vibrating in her jeans pocket. The screen showed fifteen missed calls from My World. The person ended the call before she could pick up and the phone had a password. So there was no way to retrieve the number. Then, as if they could feel her willing them to call back, they did.

  “Hello?”

  “Mommy, where are you?” the little voice boomed through the phone.

  “Your mommy lost her phone, Sweetie. Is there an adult there I can speak with?”

  “Momma!” she yells.

  After speaking briefly with the victim’s mother and getting her address, Suffiyah made the trek to Harlem. The only thing worse than being at a murder scene, is having to relay the news to the family. Seeing the four year old miniature twin to the deceased only made it that much harder. The mother broke down and was inconsolable. She wept openly on the floor of her project apartment. Mucus leaked profusely from her nose and mingled with tears. Which caused the little girl to cry even harder than the grandmother, as she tried to help her up. The woman snatched her down in an embrace as if she would never release her. Tragically holding onto the smallest piece of her world she had left. When the heaviest of emotions finally subsided, Suffiyah was able to find out nothing from the mother. She had no explanation for her daughter being out of New York. As she left she saw a woman who could have only been the victim’s sister. When Suffiyah approached her, she started crying before a word could be said. Sometimes the bond with family is so great, they can feel one another’s pain. Suffiyah rode through the tunnel more distraught than she initially was. She left New York behind her, but not empty handed. The little sister knew exactly what she was doing in New Jersey. The mother only knew of her job at McDonalds. But according to the sister, she moonlighted as a stripper in Jersey. Her stage name, was “Allure”.

  CHAPTER 10

  Sakinah disrobes slowly. In her mind she thinks of all kinds of ways around the worst outcome. As she unclasps her bra, she feels the release of her breast being freed. His eyes drop from hers onto her perfect bosom. Taking in the minutest of details. From the small beauty mark on her left breast, to the odd coloring of her areolas and the protruding stiffness of her nipples. Her black work pants are removed next. The roundness of her bottom making the action more taxing, but seductive, as her breast bounce and sway with each effort. Finally removing the dress pants, she stands in only a pair of baby blue thong panties. He motions for her to spin in a circle so he can admire her. If considered cute when dressed, she would have to be rated drop dead gorgeous in her naturalness. As she slowly spins, she can feel his eyes touch every inch of her exposed body. Upon finality of her 360, they are once again eye to eye.

  “Panties,” he says low, but in a commanding manner. Placing a thumb on both side of her panty line, she gradually removes the only remaining article of clothing. He adjusts the hardness of his erection as he fantasizes about the taste of her jewel. Her love tunnel commandeers all his attention while he salivates over its beauty. The entire area cleanly shaved, showcasing the plumpness of her lips. The smallest amount of pinkness peeking from in between them, causing pre-cum to leak from his ever growing member. With one hand he pulls at his sweatpants, exposing himself. Removing them swiftly, her eyes drop to his manhood. He proudly grants her a view of what her nakedness does to him, as he slowly strokes himself. She parts her lips to speak.

  “Shh.” He places a finger to her lips before a word could be said. “You used me. Now I use you,” he whispers venomously. “You never speak of this and it will be as if it never happened. But if you make a noise now, you will cease speaking forever.” The look in his eyes driving home the seriousness of his statement. “Lay down.”

  She complies to avoid further upsetting him. He produces a pair of handcuffs and cuffs her hands lightly to the radiator. Only then does he relinquish the knife he was wielding. Removing his hooded sweater, he gets on his knees and takes her sex in his mouth. She can’t figure out why this is happening. Why a man, she so openly trusted, would do this to her? The madness in his eyes unlike any she ever witnessed. She silently prays for him to have a quick release, so she can run away from this situation and never look back. Her eyes open as she feels her body shift. He’s no longer between her legs, but hovering over her with his face glistening from her juices. Strong hands grip her butt cheeks as he pushes inside her. In two minutes flat she feels his explosion and thanks God for His mercy. He dresses quickly and reaches for the cuffs. In mid-motion he pauses, her eyes on his hands the entire time. Before she can react, they grip her. Her eyes bulge instantly as she’s denied breath. The cuffs bang noisily on the radiator as she squirms. Tears drop from his eyes as he watches her life dissipate at his command. With the last jerks of her being, he finally releases her. And with consistency to the psycho he’s proved himself to be, he breaks down crying and professing his love. After his tirade ends, he un-cuffs Sakinah. He needs more than memories to remind him of his lost love, so he picks up her panties. Turning to leave, he’s pulled back by temptation. He takes multiple photos of her. Now she will never be forgotten. Once back in the safety of his vehicle, he places a call after blocking his number.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “There’s been a murder…”

  “Let me hear about the dreams, Detective Adams?” Another session with Dr. Jackson finds Suffiyah in the ever present hot seat.

  “I’m a little girl. Well, I’m assuming it’s me. It looks like me, I think,” she says, doing a good job of confusing herself. “Well anyway. The little girl is in an attic, surrounded by boxes. She can’t be older than about three. But she’s hiding behind these boxes. Not by choice though, someone directed her there. Then a monster comes. But it’s really a man, though my dream tells me he’s a monster. His voice causes me to almost wet myself whenever I hear it. Anyway, the dream grows in detail every time I have it. The last one, I wasn’t alone in the attic. There was another kid, not my age though, older. The monster caught the boy or girl and they pointed to my hiding place. And then…” Suffiyah stops talking.

  “And then what?” Dr. Jackson asks.

  “I wake up.”

  She refuses to divulge to him about the caller in her dreams. Dr. Jackson looks at her like she’s psychotic and he’s trying to mentally compel her to reveal more of her lunacy.

  “That’s it?” Suffiyah nods in agreement. “Okay we’re going to focus on this dream since it seems to be a derivative of your shooting. Next dream, you come straight to me?”

  “Copy, Doc. I’m going to get back to work.” He bops his head once in acknowledgement.

  “Good day, Detective.”

  Today has been nonstop for Suffiyah since her arrival in the office. It began with a meeting with all the detectives and Lt. McFarland. Basically touching on how each case was progressing and what obstacles were in place causing them to remain unsolved. Suffi
yah had been to almost every strip club in Newark and was yet to get anyone who knew Aaliyah Perez. She’s put it on her schedule to stop by Exotics in Elizabeth. It’s popular enough to be a place she might have worked at. After the meeting, she had to filter through all the calls from alleged witnesses to multiple crimes, which by chance have rewards offered. Charles Lewis walking into the office put her in a bad mood immediately. He is a prime example of why she became a cop. He cares for no one, even himself. He would put a murder on a Popsicle if he could make it stick. His tactics include bribing addicts for false statements. Exchanging low level drug bust releases, for them to point out pictures of suspects they have never seen before. Out of every ten of his cases, six will indict innocent people. His motto is, “When you’re in the game, whether you ride the bench or shoot the winning shot, you’re still part of the team.” When he works a case, you won’t be surprised to see a grandmother who peddles nickel bags of weed, being arraigned on triple murder charges. To him a criminal is a criminal. She practically runs to Dr. Jackson to get away from him. She feels guilty because no one rats him out, including herself, because nothing comes before blue. As she arrives to Lt. McFarland’s office, she receives depressing news.

  “This stripper murder is creating hysteria with the higher ups,” he began. “This is the third victim by strangulation and the words serial killer are beginning to buzz around. This is a case that has to be solved, by any means.”

  “I’m going to Exotics as soon as I leave the office. I’m doing everything I can, Sir.”

  “I know you are. I wasn’t implying that. We just have to even the odds on these bastards. They have anonymity over us, but we have experience over them. You’re partnering with Detective Lewis for this case. He’ll bring that experience and a fresh eye.”

  No matter how fast or far you run, when you look over your shoulder the devil’s still standing there grinning.

  Detective Charles Lewis is a fifty-two year old country boy. Born outside of Richmond in a town called Chase City, Virginia, he’s the product of an alcoholic father and a prostituting mother. At the age of fifteen, he left Virginia and went to Maryland. His dark, pock marked skin and features were abhorrent to him. Leaving his self-esteem at an ultimate low. He was always the butt of everybody’s joke or the target of a bully. At the age of eighteen when it seemed life could grow no more exciting for him in Maryland, he sought out a heroin dealer named, Curtis. Curtis was as tall as Charles but is the polar opposite in looks. His fair skin and curly hair, kept a lady around him. His cool demeanor kept him with plenty of friends and the revenue he created from heroin kept him in the latest threads. He was one of the few who showed young Charles love and took up for him. As they stood in the alley behind the Laundromat, he realized he envied Curtis for being everything he couldn’t be. A smooth criminal. And in that instance he comprehended how much he hated him as he drove the knife into his chest repeatedly. He left Curtis’ corpse in a heap in the alley and Maryland behind him in that same night. What better place to flee to then up North? And what better place could a killer hide than a police precinct?

  “Detective Adams, I know I’m not the pretty boy type you usually partner up with,” Lewis says as they drive to Exotics. “But you have a coldness coming off you that’ll freeze a polar bear.”

  “I’m perfectly fine, Detective Lewis. Just focusing on all the pieces to the puzzle.”

  “Okay, well remember this. You have the law and you have civilians. As the law, we trump civilians. Which means we stand over them, but we must stand together as law or the civilians will overrun us. Because out of every ten civilians, seven of them are criminals. Whether petty thieves or sadistic killers, you’ll never know ’til you catch them in the act. That’s why you have to view a criminal as a criminal,” he says as he leans back in his K-Mart suit and tie.

  Suffiyah has never been happier to see a strip club. Upon entering, the owner dismisses the pictures and said he didn’t know the girl. He gave his consent for them to speak with the dancers. A skinny dark skinned girl recognizes the picture.

  “That’s that bitch that be with Storm. What her conceited ass do?” she asks nosily.

  “Who’s Storm?” Suffiyah asks.

  “She’s in the back,” the girl replies with major attitude over being ignored.

  She turns rudely and walks away. In the back they await Storm to come out. She is expecting a person who resembles the woman off the X-Men movies. She’s looking at the door waiting to see the beautiful brown skin woman with silver hair. Then a high yellow woman walks up to them with red hair and she’s completely naked. Standing in front of a man old enough to be her father, with no shame. She’s petite but thick, with the biggest, reddest nipples she had ever seen. The chain going from nipple ring to nipple ring, drawing her attention to them.

  “Y’all holding me up, what’s up?” she says feistily while she lotions her body.

  Surprised, Suffiyah can’t help asking. “Why do you call yourself Storm?”

  The pretty girl smiles as she sways seductively to imaginary music. She runs her fingers all over her body as she gyrates her hips and butt. Stopping her fingers at the lips of her vagina.

  “Because once this heavenly body blows through, it starts to rain money,” she states staring at Detective Lewis, who’s wearing the cheesiest smile. Suffiyah shakes her head and waves the picture at her.

  “You know her?” Storm looks at the picture with distaste.

  “That’s the homegirl, Allure. I haven’t heard from or seen her, so whatever she did, that’s y’all problem.” She turns to walk away, giving Detective Lewis the mooning of a lifetime.

  “But she does owe me a coupla’ dollars. When y’all catch up to her, ask her can I get that?”

  “She’s dead.” Suffiyah says, stopping her in her tracks.

  As she turns around the arrogant sneer is replaced with a more somber expression.

  “Let me grab some clothes.”

  The trip to Exotics proved to be worth her while. Turns out Aaliyah was the best that Wet had to offer. She’s their number one money maker and as Storm tells it, her after hour clientele was booming. Now it makes sense that she was in that hotel room. Given that she turned tricks after the club, only complicates the case that much more. Trying to find a john in Newark is like trying to find an ant at a picnic. To further complicate things, she rented the room herself and went in alone. No one remembers seeing anyone worth noticing coming in after her arrival. So either her killer was a magician or smarter than they thought.

  A few days later, DNA analysis came back with a match. Not for a perpetrator but for a victim. The semen at the scene matched the semen found inside of another victim years earlier. Detective Lewis had been going through all old cases of relevance, he came back carrying a folder with a huge smile on his face.

  “I’ve been doing some research.” He says, “And out of everything I’ve seen, I really like him.” He rifles through his folder and produces a picture. Tapping it with much enthusiasm and emphasis. “Boy, I really like him!”

  CHAPTER 11

  Music is like a soundtrack to everyday life. People listen to what motivates or speaks to them on a personal level. Benji zones out to the hypnotizing voice of Jay-Z, as he does his last repetition of pull ups. He always tries to end his workout by pushing his body to its limit for the last set. He’s on thirty-nine, but going for one hundred straight pull ups. Jay-Z is his personal trainer as he speaks solely to him, “I had to hustle, my back to the wall ashy knuckles, pockets filled wit’ a lotta lint, not a cent gotta vent, lotta innocent lives lost on that project bench, what they hollering, gotta pay rent bring dollars in, by the bodega iron under my coat feeling braver, doo-rag wrapping my waves up, pockets full of hope…” Eighty-two. Benji lets go of the bar eighteen shy of his target number. No one came to pat him on his back or applaud his performance. That’s the reason he attends the gym at six in the morning, there’s hardly anyone th
ere. Except for loners such as himself who don’t do it for the accolades, they do it for themselves. His upper body is swollen from overexertion, making his tank top constrict tightly. You would never imagine all these muscles hiding beneath his shirts and jackets. Sakinah called them his “secret weapon” when she first saw him shirtless. He doesn’t wish to be buff and draw attention. He loves when people underestimate him and think they have him figured out. He grabs his towel and heads for the shower. His target number has never exceeded seventy-five, but he was trying to shed some extra stress. After all these months, Suffiyah called him twice last night. It took every ounce of willpower he had to ignore her. He has yet to stop thinking about her, but he can never allow himself to be that vulnerable again. Rendering himself susceptible to the hurt he endured that night at Top Golf. The judgment, the rejection.

  It was a beautiful day out. What can make this day more beautiful? Detective Lewis asks himself as he stands on his front steps. An Arrest. One more criminal gone. Is his response and with determination in his gait, he begins his hunt.

  Benji sits behind his desk putting together everything he has on this kidnapping case he’s working. A theory begins to take form in his mind when a knock at the door breaks his concentration. The janitor can’t grab his garbage can because the door is locked. He gets up to let him in.

  “Tone—” To his shock, it’s a tall, ugly guy who resembles Lurch from “The Addams Family”.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Benjamin Cooper?” asks the ugly mug.

  “Yeah. Who’s asking?”

  “Pardon me.” He smiles, which looks like a butt cracking. “I’m Detective Lewis. I was hoping to impose on you for just a few minutes, if possible,” he requests politely.

  Benji looks him over and can’t help but notice even minus the scales, he still sees a snake. “I’m kind of busy.”