11

Mac led Chantelle, down a staircase be the way of a flashlight. I hope he knows where we are going, cause I can't see a thing. They entered into an empty warehouse like place with no windows. He guided her to the table and chairs "Sit here," Mac pushed Chantelle, somewhat hard Chantelle thought, down in one of the chairs.

"Sir," Chantelle started.

"Don't call me sir," Mac said sternly from behind her. That's one of Mac's rules no one who works for him to ever call him sir. Period.

"Sorry um… then what do I call you?" Chantelle tried to turn her head so she could see his face.

"It's detective Taylor…." He placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Ummm…" she tried to look around. Boxes and boxes lined one area to her left. Stacked

up furniture lined the other side. Mac pushed her chair up to the table. She swallowed.

Wherever this place is, I'm a prisoner. His prisoner. This place it's dirty and smells musty a basement maybe. But why a basement of all places? That one she didn't have the answer to. She tried to look at him again but he was just out of her vision of sight. What's he planning to do with me? She swallowed again.

"How," she took a sigh of relieve when he moved to face her on the other side of the table. Now she could see him, watch him. "How long do I… we have to stay here?"

"Till we…. I know everything." Mac stared at Chantelle for a moment giving her an

intense stare.

"Everything?" she swallowed. "Umm…sir…" Mac gave a look that could kill. Great I did it again I screwed up. I offended an officer of the law and probably the only one at this point that can help me. She sighed, look at the mess that I got myself into. I…..

She lowered her head. She didn't want to see that stare, the stare that she would never forget. "Sorry," she swallowed slowly looked back up at him. "I'm used to calling everyone that, I didn't mean to offend you mr…" she thought for a minute, good that's safe. Chantelle lowered her head again and sighed. Mac felt bad. They did things different in different states. Wait Mac didn't even know where she was from. He would have to ask her that one first. That's a good place to start he thought.

"Mr… detective… Taylor…um… I was wondering if I could come out of the handcuffs and get some water. My mouth is dry and my hands well I can't feel them." Chantelle gives him a soft smile one of her puppy eyed looks trying to play on the sympathy of a good man. She knew these people, the people she meet in the morgue, took care of one another. Something she hardly knew anything about.

"Don't move." Mac pointed, Chantelle swallowed. Something about his attitude told her, he was way serious. What's he going to do with me? Look at this place it's not very…. I don't know friendly. Mac reappeared with a plastic water bottle.

"Thanks," she smiled at him again. If I keep that up maybe he wont think of me as a threat to him.

Mac's mind: What's with this girl? How can she be sweet one minute and kill someone the next. Don't let her play you, Mac, something about her is off. His gut told him. He asked himself if he should let her out of the cuffs. Yes, but be very cautious. He walked up behind her.

Chantelle didn't know what to expect this time. What is he going to do now? She squinted her eyes.

"I'll undo the cuffs," he said as he reached down to get them. "But…" Here it comes there's always a but. Chantelle swallowed. What does he want?

"You may not touch anything but that bottle in front of you."

"What else am I going to touch in here…" Chantelle thought about it. "Oh," she tried to look at him again but he was still standing behind her. "You."

"Right," he tighten her hands together tighter. She winced in pain.

"Deal, deal." The first thing that she did was twist off the top of the water bottle and drank. She drank about half of it before putting it down. Wow, she was thirsty. It wasn't a play.

"Tell me about you." Mac asked nicely this time. His voice was smooth not stern. Chantelle liked it this way.

"What do you want to know?" she would tell him just a little bit, just to keep him interested.

"The truth would be nice." Chantelle nods and then is silent, looking off to something or somewhere no one can see but her. She sighed, she never told anyone the truth about her past but then again no one ever told her the whole truth.

"Like where are you from?" Mac asked noticing she was thinking hard. He thought she might be creating a lie.

"Where do you want me to start, I've been everywhere?"

Mac's mind: What does she mean, she's been everywhere?

"Start as far back as you can remember. Anything's helpful."

"The first thing I ever remember was…well lies."

"Lies," Mac had a confused look on his face. Chantelle took in a deep breath.

"Everyone. I grew up on lies. It all started when I was about five." She hesitated and looked over at him. "Wait a minute, you want me to tell you, so you can tell the jury all about me, don't you?" Chantelle crossed her arms in front of herself.

Great, Mac thought. Now she thinks I'll use it against her. Apparently she doesn't trust anyone. How do I get her to trust me.

"No, it's off the record, we. ….. I want to know if there's something to help us." Chantelle blinked should I trust him…in her mind an image of the 'cop man' as she called Flack appeared. I have to do if for him. She smiled Mac took that as a good sign. Chantelle took another deep breath and continued on.

"I was about five, Amy my mother never told me who my father was, only that his name was Louie. I didn't at that time know much about him. We, my mother and me traveled a lot. So I'm not sure where I'm from." She shrugged her shoulders. "I mean I've traveled for a kid all over, I went school in Texas, Kansas and Miami that I know of." She smiled.

"So um…pick one." She laughed. Mac just watched her, he didn't want to interrupt her thoughts. She was on a roll which was good. After about a minute or two of pure silence past he asked, "Do you know why you moved a lot?"

"I'm not rally sure," she shook her head. "I mean my mom told me it was cause of her job but I had my doubts. I thought it might because of my father. My mother, never talk about him, and he was never around. I didn't know if he even existed. She told me that he was busy with his work all the time and he was a traveler like us. There was something that she was hiding from me, something deep.

Who's father never comes to visit them? Not once. I never got to visit him at work either, which was odd. I would have liked that, even if it was just once. Just to say see his face." Chantelle looked at the ceiling and then back down at Mac. "At one time we stay at a beach house in Miami, we stated there the longest….a whole two years. I wasn't sure what my mom did for a living but it must have paid well. We always had money. Then I found the envelopes."

Mac had that curious look on his face at that statement. "What kind of envelopes?"

"Big yellow ones, they came from a L.M. of New Jersey. At first, I didn't think to much about it. I just thought it had to do with my moms business. Well, one day," she cut her eyes his direction. "You have to remember that I was a kid and didn't know all the laws, when I was at home off from school alone one arrived. I decided I wanted answers, so I opened it. A bundle of money fell out. I didn't know what to think. Why were these envelopes coming here? Then I remembered my mother said my dad's name was Louie. I thought it might be from him, but why? Why would he send us money but not a visit? I couldn't understand that. I mean the man couldn't even show his face, what's with that? Was he ashamed of us….me…" Chantelle lowered her head again.

"So he sent you money?"

"Yeah but I never know what he did and my mom never wanted to talk about him. I thought it was someone she didn't want to have contact with. Maybe someone that hurt her in the past." Chantelle shrugged again. "I thought we would stay in Miami for a while longer, I was just getting use to it when…. once again we moved. I was nine when we moved here."

"You mean New York?"

"Yeah. I went to see the trade center. That was amazing. I rode the elevator to every floor, all the way up." Chantelle pointed up, "And all the way down." She pointed back down. "My mother was pissed at me though, but I was a kid. I had to have some fun. I remember going to the statue of Liberty, now that was a sight too." Chantelle loved to talk about the good days that she had. There wasn't all that many of them. "The people looked like little ants on the ground, so so small." She wiped he hand down her face. "That's when I got news about my father…."

"Did he?" Mac questioned. He thought he knew the answer to that one already but Chantelle surprised him.

"At this point in my life, I didn't know." Chantelle shrugged. "I heard my mother on the phone, she was yelling. The first time, I ignored it. I thought it was a normal thing. But then they kept coming, the phone calls were all the time. Sometimes they were real loud and others not so loud. One day I stood behind a corner to listen. She told who ever it was on the phone that she didn't know where Messer was. She slammed the phone down, I ran to my room. I was scared at that time. I sat on my bed and cried myself to sleep. Later that night I got to thinking about the envelopes that came. LM. Maybe that wasn't my father, but why would she lie? Maybe this Messer guy, who ever he really was wanted his money back, maybe he was following us….who, knew. The next day at school I talked to my friend Sam about all of this. See her father was a cop. I asked her to look up Louie Messer. I just wanted to know if that person existed. I told her that might be my dad. I had no idea. I told her my mom lied to me about all of this. Sam told me that she would look into it for me. Now I might get somewhere….only did I know."