Baltimore Chronicles Volume 2
Treasure Hernandez
Prologue
Chapter 1: The Best Laid Plans
Chapter 2: Business as Usual
Chapter 3: Sealed Fate
Chapter 4: The Return
Chapter 5: Setting It Off
Chapter 6: Closure
Chapter 7: Out of the Shadows
Chapter 8: Politics as Usual
Chapter 9: I’m Back
Chapter 10: Trial and Error
Chapter 11: Fatal Attraction
Chapter 12: Watch Your Back
Chapter 13: All Good Things Come to an End
Chapter 14: What Goes Around Comes Around
Prologue
Tiphani called Scar. “It’s done, baby,” she said. “I made all of the calls. We will live happily ever after.” She smiled as she spoke into the receiver. “I love you too,” she added, closing her eyes.
After hanging up the telephone, she shrugged into her coat on her way to mail her packages. She grabbed her keys and stepped out her door. As she took her first step, she was hit from the side. She didn’t even have time to scream before she was dragged away.
“In breaking news, police report that Assistant District Attorney Tiphani Fuller has been reported missing. Police fear Mrs. Fuller may be in grave danger because of her husband’s alleged criminal associations. ADA Fuller is the estranged wife of embattled Maryland State Trooper, narcotics detective Derek Fuller. Fuller, the former leader of the State Troopers’ Drug Enforcement Section, was indicted by a grand jury last week on charges of conspiracy and first-degree murder. He is a suspect in the brutal murder of a DES officer. The officer’s mutilated body was found outside of the home Fuller shared with a fellow officer. Detective Fuller, who is currently being held without bond, is also suspected of cutting deals with the Dirty Money Crew, a notorious drug syndicate headed up by the infamous Stephon “Scar” Johnson. Police would not confirm whether they believe ADA Fuller’s disappearance is directly related to her husband’s alleged crimes, but said they are putting out all of their manpower and resources to find her. The FBI is also involved. ADA Fuller was last seen dropping her children off to school two weeks ago. The children’s whereabouts are not being disclosed, for their safety. We will continue to follow the story as it develops,” the reporter said, staring into the camera.
Derek sat on one of the small, hard, plastic chairs in the dayroom of the protective segregation unit inside the Baltimore County jail. The room was pin-drop quiet. Everyone was interested in the infamous narco that sat right in the same jail with them; inmates and COs alike were glued to the television. In protective segregation Derek was surrounded by other corrupt cops under arrest, and other inmates who needed special protection. The warden knew there was no way Derek would survive in general population with people he had put behind bars.
Derek felt the heat of eyes on him, but at that point, he didn’t care who was around him in the hellhole of a jail. The air around him was thick and threatened to suffocate him, even after he had finally exhaled. He was watching the television so intently, he didn’t even realize he was involuntarily holding his breath.
He flexed his jaw at the news of Tiphani’s disappearance and at the sight of his old home on the news, outside which every broadcast news station in Baltimore, Maryland was posted.
Derek was immediately drawn back to a time when his life was almost perfect. The two of them had everything, and within a second, Boom! Their lives had exploded into chaos. Now, here he sat in jail for crimes he didn’t commit. His wife was missing, feared dead, and their kids would surely end up in foster care.
He shook his head. What had he done to himself? To them? Just seeing his former home on the screen made his stomach muscles clench. What would happen to his kids? Where could Tiphani have gone? “She wouldn’t just leave the kids like that,” he mumbled under his breath. “Something had to happen to her.” All of a sudden, a rush of anxiety filled his gut, and he raced for his open cell so he could throw up.
Derek had a fucked up feeling about this whole disappearance, and about everything in general that had happened thus far. He felt betrayed in more ways than one. He couldn’t believe that his administrative leave had so quickly turned into an all-out witch-hunt against him, and now he sat rotting in a fucking jail cell with a bunch of trumped-up evidence compiled against him. The crimes he was accused of were unheard of, but Derek had been pegged as the scapegoat for the department for some reason.
Derek finished emptying his guts into the toilet and swiped the back of his hand over his lips, his mind crowded with thoughts of Tiphani. The news story had clearly shaken him. He had hoped that Tiphani would’ve come home by now. Every day that passed made it worse for her and damn sure made it bad for him. He had already been questioned about Tiphani’s disappearance and didn’t like the underlying innuendo in the voice of the detective who had interviewed him. It was like they were trying to blame him for her disappearance too. He had become so frustrated at the detective asking him the same question seventy-five different ways, he jumped into the detective’s face, but the cocky detective still didn’t back down.
“Mr. Fuller, we understand that you and your wife were going through a bitter and nasty divorce and custody battle,” the detective had said, a sly smirk on his wrinkled, olive-colored face.
“Yeah. And what of it?” Derek squinted his eyes.
“Well, sometimes when things like that are going on, one spouse, you know, may…” The detective’s voice trailed off like he wanted Derek to fill in the blank with some crazy shit.
Even though Derek knew all of the interrogation tricks, he couldn’t keep his cool. Blood immediately rushed to his head. “I didn’t have anything to do with my wife’s disappearance!” he screamed, his face turning almost burgundy as his heart hammered against his chest bone. He was used to being on the other side of the table, doing the interrogating, and discovered he didn’t like being interrogated himself.
“Mr. Fuller, we are just trying to run down any leads that may help us find your wife,” the detective said, his paper-thin lips moving in slow motion.
Every word seemed like flashbulbs of light to Derek, with nonstop images of Tiphani and Scar fucking exploding in front of him.
“I’m stuck in this fucking hellhole because somebody wanted me out of their way. My wife needs to be found now! My kids are all alone,” Derek croaked out, the tears burning his eyes, and a sharp pain gripping him around the throat.
He couldn’t erase the images of Scar ramming his wife in and out. Tiphani’s face contorted with pleasure, pleasure that Derek was never able to give her. Derek’s heart was breaking all over again. This was all too fucking much to handle.
“We are trying to find her, but I will tell you now. If she has in fact been kidnapped, and ends up dead, it only makes you look worse,” the detective had said, as he rose to leave.
Derek shook the memories of that interrogation from his mind. That was almost two weeks ago, and still Tiphani had not been found. He’d heard on one of the many news stories that Tiphani’s cell phone was found on the side of I-95. Not a good sign.
The night he was visited by the detective, just like today, he hadn’t slept for even one hour. He hadn’t been able to concentrate since. If Tiphani turns up dead, I can forget my freedom. They will believe it was me, no matter what I do or say,