here so she knows she can find me day or night. She’s
such a good woman. No! She’s a great woman!
I can’t wait to tell her I’ve decided to call her Mother.
My mom will take care of me. She will take me
from here. She will love me forever.
“Damn! This guy went seriously mental,” Green said with a long sigh as he picked up more papers, dumbfounded when he saw the sheer volume of notes the man had written to himself.
“I need to contact my team and get more officers and a couple of detectives on this,” McCormack said before stepping from the room. They needed it all photographed and every single piece of evidence secured.
McCormack left and Smoke and Green continued looking through the room.
“Green, look at this,” Smoke said. Green moved over to him. “This man was a straight-out psychopath. It’s a good thing he’s dead or I don’t know if I’d be able to control myself,” Smoke finished.
Green began reading the note Smoke handed to him, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Each sentence revealed how far down the rabbit hole Travis had gone.
I realize that Mom has given up on me. She’s
decided to abandon me. I know she told the doctor
lady to give me medicine, but I never take it. That
stuff would make me forget all about Mom, and I can’t
let that happen. I have to always remember her. So no meds
for me. I have to remember. I can’t remember much, but I
have to remember Mom. I need to get out of here and find
her. Maybe she’s lost or hurt. Maybe someone is keeping
her locked up, keeping her from me. If I find out someone
is hurting her, I’ll kill them. If Mom needs help, I’ll kill
them all. I’ll do anything for Mom, just as I know
she’ll do anything for me. I need to find her. I need
to save her. I’m coming Mom.
“I’ve got to stop reading this crap. You should stop too. Nothing good is going to come from having it stuck in your memory,” Smoke said as he threw the papers on the desk in disgust. The papers hovered perilously at the edge of the desk for a moment before a few pages slowly fluttered from the messy pile, coming to rest on the dirty carpet.
Neither Smoke nor Green said a word as they exited the room. The officers in the corridor had been too curious not to peek inside, and they looked just as disgusted as Smoke felt. Everyone in this community loved Katherine. They were sick they hadn’t caught on to what this man had been up to.
“We’re done here,” Smoke said. “Tell McCormack we want to get a catalog of all of the evidence. Every photo, letter, newspaper clipping, all of it.” The officer guarding the door nodded. He and Green walked away.
“Are you okay?” Green asked.
“No. This one’s hitting a bit too close to home. I’ve seen it before. Some dude went crazy over one of my cousins a couple of decades ago. He did some real bad stuff to her. This pulled it all to the front of my mind. Let me have a minute to calm myself,” Smoke said as they swiftly walked toward the stairs instead of using the elevator. Once down, they continued on, distancing themselves from the building.
Green didn't need to reply. He’d spent enough time with Smoke to know when words needed to be spoken and when they didn’t.
Smoke lifted his large hands, and started scrubbing his face, head, and neck over and over again, trying to reset his brain from going down a very dark path. He knew the only thing that would pull him from the darkness was to call his mother. She had a way of settling him when no one and nothing else could. She’d toiled hard his entire youth, so it had been his honor and pleasure to give back to her when his work had been rewarded and he’d made something of himself.
He’d made enough money already in his short life to give his mother whatever she wanted, though she never asked for anything. It drove him crazy sometimes how hard it was to spoil her. She was a woman full of pride and always told him that no matter how old he was, she’d always be his mama and it was her job to take care of him. He disagreed but was careful at being too vocal about it. She’d gladly whack him over the head if he voiced disrespect out loud.
When Smoke bought her a beautiful home, doing his best to get her out of the Cappers projects of southeast D.C., she’d balked at moving in. She’d lived in the same apartment for almost twenty years by the time Smoke had signed his NFL contract, the highest rookie contract ever given to a wide receiver. At the time, Smoke had been the sweetheart of the football world. He’d broken every notable receiving record while in college and had posted the highest score in the NFL Combine.
As soon as he’d graduated from college with a double major in Physics and Biochemistry, he’d signed a sportswear contract worth almost five times as much as his football contract. That wasn’t the only sponsor he’d signed with, and by the time he’d started his first practice in the NFL, he was set for life. His mother had also taught him responsibility, and unlike a lot of athletes, he hadn’t gone out and blown all of his money on cars, drugs, and women.
“I’m going to make a call,” Smoke said to Green, who nodded, knowing Smoke wanted a few minutes alone. Smoke moved away from a few curious people loitering nearby, pulled out his phone, and called his mom.
“Hey, Boo. How’s my baby doin’?” Laysha Rice asked before the second ring finished.
“Hey, Mom,” Tyrell echoed with an exhausted voice.
“Oh. I know that sound. What’s wrong, Boo?” his mother asked. She always had been able to tell if anything was wrong from nothing more than an inflection in his voice. Smoke had no doubt he was a lucky man to have been raised by such a great woman. She was tough as nails but always let him know how much he was loved and needed in the world.
“Just needed to hear your voice, Mom. Having a pretty rough go of it here. What are you up to?” Smoke asked.
“I was on the phone with Pastor Heath, and he was telling me about a mission trip to the Ivory Coast in a few months. I think I'm going to go. Is that a safe country to visit?" Laysha asked.
“The Ivory Coast? Yeah, it’s safe. As long as you stay with a group, you’ll be fine,” Smoke replied.
Years ago, he’d tried stopping his mom from going on a mission trip because he didn’t want her to travel without him to protect her. That had led to one hell of a tongue lashing from his mother. She’d reminded him that she’d raised him while working two or three jobs at a time and had never so much as taken a two-day weekend to herself for eighteen straight years. If she wanted to go do the good Lord’s work now, she was dang well going to go do it. She’d also informed him she was simply telling him because she still wanted to know where in the world he was, and she’d respect his word if he told her it was an actual danger hotspot. Other than that, she was flat out going.
“Boo, tell your mama what’s happening,” she requested.
Smoke sighed, knowing he’d have to tell her. It was why he’d called in the first place, he reminded himself. “I’m dealing with the same type of thing that happened to Jules,” he finally said.