“I believe you weren’t doing anything illegal, Jasmine, but you need to explain it to me. Help me understand.”
“They a lot of shit going on with Jed y’all don’t know about. Some nasty shit, too.”
“Did it have anything to do with Slice?”
“I told you, I don’t know nobody by that name.”
“Jasmine, there’s no point denying it. Your phone was tapped. I have a tape of you talking to Slice. And he sure doesn’t sound like a nice guy.”
As they reached the mezzanine and stepped off the escalator, Jasmine turned to Melanie. She tried to look defiant, but the fear in her eyes undermined her cool facade.
“He treat me better than he treat other girls,” she said.
“If he treats you so good, Jasmine, why do you look so scared?”
“I ain’t scared,” she insisted, but her voice shook.
“Come on, let me buy you a coffee. We’ll find a table. I’ll explain what my office can do to protect you.”
A long metal concession counter lined one wall of the low-ceilinged mezzanine. Melanie spied a Starbucks logo halfway down the counter and headed toward it. She was glad when Jasmine followed compliantly. They got their drinks and waited for a table to open up in the jam-packed seating area, not speaking. Only once they were seated did Melanie raise the difficult subject of Slice again.
“Jasmine, I’m here to help you,” Melanie began as the girl sipped her iced Frappuccino through a straw, eyes fixed on the table. “We both know that Slice is a cold-blooded killer. That puts you in serious danger. The closer we get to arresting him, the more nervous he gets. The more nervous he gets, the more likely he’ll try to eliminate people who could testify against him. With what you know, you’re at the top of that list.”
“I know he do some bad things to other people, but he always good to me,” Jasmine insisted, looking up at Melanie imploringly. “I’m his baby’s mama.”
“You have a baby with Slice?”
“Yeah, a little girl. Destiny. She two. He give me money for her, come by, bring her stuff. That’s why I always stick by him. I want my baby to have a father.”
“Oh,” Melanie said, stunned into momentary silence. Jasmine’s words hit home. How far could you excuse a man because he was-by whatever your standards-a good father? Should you stay in a bad relationship for your child’s sake? In Jasmine’s case the answer was obviously no. Staying with Slice could mean the difference between life and death. In Melanie’s own life, the choice was less stark, the answer not as clear. Although, deep down, she knew that it wouldn’t be good for Maya to grow up with parents who were unhappy together.
“Jasmine, can I tell you something?” Melanie said ur gently. “I’m a mother myself. I totally hear you about sticking with your baby’s father. But I’m from Bushwick, too. I know what it’s like on the block. Some guys are ticking time bombs. You know that, I know that, we both know that just from where we grew up. They can be all right one minute and turn on you the next. Slice is like that. He’s killed upwards of twenty people.”
Jasmine gasped, shaking her head in mute horror.
“You didn’t know?” Melanie asked.
“I know he done murders, but not how many.”
“Well, that’s how many, and it’s a lot. He kills for a living. Not only for a living, for pleasure. Maybe he treats you okay sometimes, but I heard him on tape threatening you. Just from what I heard, I could tell he abuses you.”
Tears welled in Jasmine’s eyes. “Okay, maybe. But I got it under control. I learn how to not piss him off. He don’t beat on me so much these days.”
“You’re willing to stake your life on that? How long before Slice has a bad day? How long before you say the wrong thing or don’t cook his food just how he likes or the baby cries too loud? What happens then? Who’s gonna raise your daughter if you’re dead, Jasmine?”
Jasmine sprang to her feet, knocking over her metal chair and taking several steps back, her eyes focused on a point beyond Melanie’s shoulder.
“Jasmine, please, wait!”
Melanie leaped up and tried to grab for Jasmine’s hand, but a vague sense of someone approaching from behind distracted her. She took her eyes off Jasmine for a split second, turning to see who was there. Just then the girl bolted, and Melanie watched in astonishment as Jasmine plunged frantically into the crowd of customers swarming the concession area, running as if she feared for her life. Melanie hesitated for a second, wondering if she should go after Jasmine or let her calm down before they talked more. But the next instant a man brushed by her from behind, following Jasmine’s receding figure in its blue pantsuit. Jasmine hurried toward the escalators on the other side of the mezzanine-the man, clad in baggy black jeans and a tan T-shirt hanging to his knees, hot on her trail. He matched Slice’s general description. Medium height, slim build, close-cropped brown hair. But didn’t a lot of people? Melanie couldn’t be sure it was Slice unless she saw his face.
She took off after them, yelling Jasmine’s name. Jasmine whirled, panic-stricken when she saw the man gaining on her. As Melanie fought her way through the crowd toward them, Jasmine turned and ran, colliding hard with an overweight woman wearing a loose-fitting black dress.
“Aaagh, you crazy bitch, I think you broke my arm!” the woman cursed, grabbing hold of the lapel of Jasmine’s jacket.
Caught in the woman’s grasp, Jasmine hauled back and punched her in the head with all her strength. The woman hit the floor with a thud, the crowd surging in confusion around her prone figure, further obstructing Melanie’s path. Jasmine ran. The man sidestepped onlookers, doggedly pursuing her. Melanie tried desperately to follow, but it was like swimming against the tide, with more and more people rushing over to gawk at the fallen woman.
“She’s out cold! Is there a doctor here?” a man shouted.
“Call 911,” somebody else suggested.
Her own progress toward the escalators virtually stopped, Melanie watched with her heart in her throat as the man caught up to Jasmine and grabbed her by the arm. The phony, terrified smile plastered on Jasmine’s face as he yanked her around told Melanie everything she needed to know. She’d never gotten a clear look at him, but she didn’t need to. It had to be Slice. Who else would Jasmine try to mollify with that pitiful smile? Just then the crowd closed ranks, and Melanie lost sight of them.
By the time Melanie fought her way to the escalators, crucial minutes had elapsed. She hadn’t seen which way Jasmine and Slice went, and now they were nowhere in sight. Think, think. Jasmine was trying to escape. She would have headed down, toward the exits. Melanie hopped onto the down escalator, scanning the floor below for them as she moved. Everywhere she looked in the crowd, tall girls in powder blue leather pantsuits tricked her eye. None of them was Jasmine. Desperately, she pulled her cell phone from her bag, dialing Dan’s pager as she rode downward, beeping him to her phone. Where was Dan now? Could he already be inside the Javits Center looking for her? Please, let him be. She needed backup, fast.
She stepped off the escalator onto the convention-center floor. Which way would Jasmine have run? Which way would Slice have taken her if he caught her? Straight for the nearest exit probably, but which way was that? She sprinted off in what seemed like the right direction, but again the crowds made for slow going. Running on the uneven floor was difficult-one moment plush carpeting dragged at her high-heeled shoes; the next, without noticing it, she’d stepped onto a rotating platform.
Disoriented and out of breath, she almost didn’t stop to investigate when several people ahead of her, who’d been milling around an enormous red Hummer, began pointing upward, toward the skylit ceiling. But then she heard their gasps.