…
Everyone wanted to be a hero.
When Daryl saw her dilapidated house with broken windows in the entryway, she noticed his face change.
There was pity in his eyes.
It was exactly what she wanted.
“It’s not safe for a girl like you here,” he said.
Then Shana lowered her eyes.
“I’m saving up to move, but on a hairdresser’s salary, it’s not easy.
” He insisted on walking her to the apartment door, checking the locks, inspecting the windows.
Then he offered to leave his number just in case.
Two days later, she called him in tears, telling a madeup story about a neighbor threatening her.
Daryl rushed over 20 minutes later.
Thus began their affair, which for Daryl was a sincere infatuation with a lonely, beautiful girl.
And for Shana, a carefully calculated financial strategy.
Hey babe, you ready? Daryl peaked into the parlor, disturbing her memories.
Almost.
Give me 5 minutes.
Shana gave him her best smile and disappeared into the back room to change.
Tamika watched Daryl as he waited patiently, looking at the pictures of hairstyles on the wall.
He was tall with a military bearing, but a sadness in his eyes.
A typical veteran returning from war and trying to find his place in civilian life.
“How long have you been working at midnight?” she asked casually.
“Third year, ma’am,” he replied politely.
Don’t you get tired of swallowing cigarette smoke and breaking up drunken fights? Daryl shrugged.
After Afghanistan, any job that doesn’t involve shooting seems like a blessing.
Tamika nodded.
She’d known guys like that.
Honest, simple, traumatized, with a heart of gold.
And she was truly sorry that Shana had found him.
She’d seen how her coworker changed with each new boyfriend.
At first, she was all caring and loving.
Then as soon as she got access to money and stuff, she turned into a demanding [ __ ] “She’s a good girl, but she’s just had a hard time in life,” Daryl said suddenly as if he’d read her mind.
“Yeah, sure,” Tamika agreed unconvincingly.
Shana appeared in a new tight dress that emphasized all of her assets.
“What’s up?” She spun around in front of Daryl.
“You look beautiful,” he said sincerely.
Shana grabbed him under the arm, throwing him over Tamika’s shoulder.
Will you close the salon? I have a date.
As the door closed behind them, Tamika shook her head.
She had seen this scenario play out dozens of times.
For a while, Shana would lead another victim around by the nose, then suck every last dollar out and disappear.
This time, though, something was different.
Usually, Shana’s men were richer and older.
Daryl, though he had a steady income, could hardly provide the standard of living Shana sought.
Something didn’t add up.
In Daryl’s pickup truck, Shana quickly checked the messages on her phone.
Moo Johnson, her cousin and part-time creditor, was reminding her of the debt again.
Two more weeks and the interest will double,” the message read.
Shana whed quietly.
$10,000 was a huge amount of money she’d borrowed to cover debts from card games and past loans.
Moo wasn’t the kind of man to joke with when it came to money.
“Did something happen?” Daryl asked, noticing her gloomy face.
“Nothing much, just work problems,” she lied quickly, putting a smile back on her face.
“So, you say you got the bonus?” Daryl nodded.
“Yeah, the owner of the club is happy with how I handled that gang last week.
Gave out a $500 bonus?” Shana mentally wrinkled her nose.
“$500? She’d spent that much on a pair of shoes.
It was disastrously small for her plans and debts.
Honey, I’m so happy for you.
She put her hand on his knee.
But you know, I keep thinking you should get a better job.
With your military experience, you could work for a private security company.
They pay three times as much.
Daryl sighed.
We’ve talked about this before.
I like Midnight.
Everyone’s their own there.
There’s no bureaucracy, and I get to decide my own course of action.
But don’t you want more? She leaned closer, lowering her voice to an intimate whisper.
We could move to a better neighborhood, maybe even buy a house.
Daryl gave her a brief glance.
Actually, I have some savings and the military pension isn’t that small.
I just don’t like to spend money on show.
That phrase made Shana tense up.
She knew about the pension about 3,000 a month.
Not bad, but not the kind of money worth putting up with PTSD and Daryl’s nightmares.
The mention of savings, however, was new information.
Savings? she asked as casually as possible.
“Yes, I’ve been saving since I got back.
Almost 80,000 already.
” Shana almost gasped with delight, but managed to keep her expression nonchalant.
“That’s great, honey.
That’s very thoughtful of you.
$80,000.
That would be more than enough to pay off Moo and get a fresh start.
Maybe even open her own beauty parlor, something she’d dreamed of for years.
” Over dinner at an inexpensive restaurant, Shana asked him about his savings in passing, interspersing the questions with stories of her difficult childhood in foster care, mostly made up, and dreams of her own business.
Daryl listened intently with sympathy in his eyes.
She knew that look.
He wanted to save her again.
“I believe in you, Shana,” he said, covering her hand with his.
“You’ll get through this, and I’ll be there for you.
” She smiled sweetly, wondering how to get to that 80,000 as quickly as possible.
Ask for it, but he’d say no.
He was too frugal.
Seduce him into buying real estate together? That would take too long, and Moo wouldn’t wait.
By the way, Daryl said suddenly, sipping from his beer glass.
Remember when we talked about making each other beneficiaries on our insurance policies? Shana froze.
They’d actually discussed it in passing a few weeks ago when she’d been trying to find out details about his finances.
“Yes, of course, I remember,” she answered cautiously.
“I made you my beneficiary.
” He smiled.
“If anything happens to me, you get $300,000.
I hope that’s enough for your beauty parlor.
” Shana had to do her best not to betray her excitement.
$300,000? That’s a lot of money.
Suddenly, a whole new perspective appeared before her eyes.
You didn’t have to,” she began, panting with excitement.
“I wanted to do it,” he interrupted.
“I don’t have a family, just you.
You deserve a good future.
” Shana reached across the table and kissed him, in her head, already forming a whole new plan.
Detective Laro Jenkins parked the squad car across the street from the liquor store that had been robbed the day before.
It’s the fourth robbery in two weeks in Englewood.
Same pattern, black mask, gun, no witnesses.
Small store owners were panicked and the police had no leads.
Laruan got out of the car, adjusting the jacket concealing the holster.
In her 47, she remained trim and energetic despite 20 years on the Chicago Police Department.
The gray in her close-cropped hair only added to her authority, and her intelligent eyes with the slight wrinkles in the corners noticed things others missed.
Mr. Wilson.
She showed her badge to the elderly store owner.
Detective Jenkins.
We spoke on the phone.
The gray-haired man nodded nervously.
Yes.
Yes.
Come in.
This is the third time this year I’ve been robbed, and the police still haven’t caught anyone.
Larowan professionally let the reproach pass her ears.
She knew this part of town like the back of her hand.
She’d grown up six blocks away.
To most cops, Englewood was just a hot spot on the crime map.
But to her, it was home with all its problems and contradictions.
“Tell me again what happened?” she asked, pulling out a notepad.
A black guy in a mask burst in, pulled a gun, took the entire cash register and a bottle of expensive cognac.
Just like last time.
Did you notice any distinguishing marks, tattoos, scars? Maybe he spoke with an accent.
Wilson shook his head.
Nothing like that.
Just your average ghetto thug.
Loy held back her irritation at the racist implication.
She walked around the store, studying the camera angles.
One didn’t work.
The other gave only a blurry image.
Classic.
I’ll canvas the neighboring stores to see if anyone saw anything, she said, finishing her inspection.
Stepping outside, Luan spotted a beauty parlor across the street.
Luxury curls.
The brightly colored sign read.
Perhaps the store was visible from there at the time of the robbery.
She crossed the street and opened the door, meeting her gaze with a middle-aged woman who was styling a customer’s hair.
“What can I do for you?” the woman asked, still working.
“Detective Lwan Jenkins,” she showed her badge again.
“I’m investigating last night’s robbery at the liquor store across the street.
Did you see anything unusual around 9:00 last night?” Tama Rose, saloon owner.
The woman introduced herself.
We closed at 18 last night, detective.
But Shana stayed until 19:30 doing the hair of a regular customer.
“Hey, Shana,” she shouted into the back of the salon.
“The police are asking about last night’s robbery.
” From behind the curtain came a slender girl with long extensions and makeup that would make a Hollywood actress envious.
She was dressed in a tight dress, clearly out of season and too fancy to work in a hairdresser’s shop.
“The police?” she questioned, looking at the detective appraisingly.
“Did you see anything suspicious last night?” Loyne asked, noting the expensive earrings and bracelet on the girl.
“No, I was busy with a client,” Shana shrugged nonchalantly.
“Besides, my boyfriend came to pick me up, and we’ve been uh a little busy.
” Tama rolled her eyes and Laruan made a note in her notebook.
Your boyfriend didn’t see anything either.
He was in the car waiting for me.
Daryl, Shana shouted toward the back door.
Come here.
The police are asking about last night.
A minute later, a tall, muscular man with a serious expression entered the cabin.
Loyan instantly recognized him as a military man.
The poise, the scanning gaze, the calm confidence.
She’d worked a lot with veterans and knew the type.
Daryl Fields, ma’am,” he introduced himself with a slight nod.
“Did you notice anything suspicious outside the liquor store last night?” Loyan asked.
Daryl frowned, remembering, “I saw a guy in a black hooded sweatshirt walking briskly away from the store toward the intersection.
” But I didn’t pay much attention to it.
There are a lot of suspicious individuals in our neighborhood.
“What direction did he go?” “63rd Street, ma’am.
That’s all I can tell you.
” Loy nodded, taking notes.
Do you work in law enforcement, Mr. Fields? She asked, noticing his assessment of her position and surroundings.
Security guard at the midnight nightclub, he answered.
But before that, I was in the Marines two tours in Afghanistan.
Thank you for your service, Laran said sincerely.
If you think of anything else, give me a call.
She held out her business card, which Daryl tucked neatly into his shirt pocket.
Shana watched this with obvious impatience.
“Can we go now? We have plans tonight,” she announced, taking Daryl under her arm.
“Of course,” Loyan smiled.
But there was professional interest in her eyes.
“Thanks for your help.
” When the couple left, the detective turned to Tama.
“How long have they been together?” “About 8 months,” Tamika answered, returning to work on her client’s hair.
“That’s an unusually long time for Shana.
” “What do you mean?” Tamika paused, deciding whether to be frank.
She usually changes boyfriends more often than I change nail polish colors.
But Daryl, he’s a good guy.
Too good for her, if you know what I mean.
Loyan nodded understandingly, making a mental note.
Something about the pair made her wary.
The contrast between Daryl’s open, honest face and Shana’s calculating gaze.
Her police sense, honed by years on the job, told her something wasn’t right here.
If you see anything suspicious, give me a call,” she said, leaving a second business card for Tamika.
As the detective walked away, Tamika looked through the storefront window at her.
Maybe she should have told her how Shana had changed lately.
The constant whispered phone calls, the nervousness, the mounting debts she didn’t hide from her co-workers while bragging about expensive purchases.
Meanwhile, Shana and Daryl got into his pickup truck.
“Why did you call me when you were talking to the cop?” Daryl asked, starting the engine.
I thought you might have seen something, Shana shrugged.
You’re practically a cop, except without the badge.
I’m a security guard at the club, Shana, not a detective.
Who cares? She rolled her eyes.
Why don’t you give me a ride to the ATM? I need to withdraw some money.
Shopping again? He asked with a slight chuckle.
It’s my friend’s birthday, and I need to buy a present.
She lied.
Daryl nodded and pulled onto the main street.
Shana checked her phone.
Three missed calls from Moo.
She needed to find money right away.
The interest on the loan was mounting and Moo wasn’t known for his patience.
At the ATM, Shana tried to withdraw $300, but the screen reads funds.
She cursed quietly and returned to the car.
Is there a problem? Daryl asked.
No, I’m fine, she snapped.
It’s just the banks being stupid again.
Listen, could you lend me some money? I’ll pay you back as soon as I get my paycheck.
Daryl sighed.
Shana, we talked about this.
I can’t sponsor your shopping all the time.
I’ve already given you $800 this month.
So, you’re sparing money for your girlfriend? Her voice got a little higher.
You have savings? That money is for a rainy day? Daryl said firmly.
And for the house we’ll buy someday if you’re really serious about a serious relationship.
Shana snorted and turned away to the window.
Daryl was too stubborn when it came to money.
She needed a different approach.
I’m sorry, honey.
She put her hand on his knee.
You’re right.
I just wanted to impress my friend.
Stupid, huh? His face softened.
You don’t need to impress anyone, Shana.
You’re already the prettiest girl in Englewood.
She smiled, mentally, continuing to look for a way to get to his savings or to the insurance.
That same evening, Shana received a text from Moo.
Meet you at the Blue Flamingo at 10:00.
Bring at least part of what you owe or we’ll talk differently.
She swallowed nervously.
The Blue Flamingo was a backwater bar where Moo met debtors who didn’t pay on time.
They usually came out of there with broken fingers or worse.
Shana hurriedly packed, telling Daryl she’d been called to the salon.
Supposedly, an important client wanted an emergency styling job.
He offered a ride, but she declined, afraid he’d suspect something a miss.
The Blue Flamingo bar was in the most unsightly part of Englewood.
The sign flickered, the eye unlit, turning the name into Blue Flamingo.
Shana took a deep breath and stepped inside.
Moo sat in the far corner sipping whiskey, tall with a hard stare and a gold chain around his neck.
He looked like a real gangster from the movies.
To Shana, he’d always been just a cousin.
Arrogant, but not scary.
But now that she owed him a large sum of money, she saw another side of him.
“You’re late,” he said as she sat down across from him.
“I’m sorry, Moo.
I had things to do.
Did you bring the money?” Shana shook her head.
“I only have $200, but I’ll get the rest soon.
” Moo finished his whiskey and gestured to the bartender.
“Another one?” he said, then turned to Shana.
10,000 Shana plus interest.
That’s 12 grand already and it’ll be more every week.
I know.
She lowered her eyes.
I just need a little time.
Time is money, cousin.
And money is your problem.
Moo smiled, but his eyes remained cold.
You have a rich boyfriend, don’t you? That security guard from Midnight.
Shana flinched.
How do you know? I know all about my debtors.
He shrugged.
I hear he has good savings and insurance.
Shana looked around nervously.
Not so loud.
Yes, he has money, but I’m working on it.
He’s not the type to part with dollars easily.
Maybe we should try some more, more radical methods.
Moo looked at her meaningfully.
Shana shook her head.
I can handle it.
Just give me a little more time.
Okay.
Moo agreed with sudden ease.
You have 2 weeks.
Then I’ll visit your rich boyfriend myself, and our conversation won’t be so friendly.
The words made Shana break out in a cold sweat.
She knew Moo wasn’t kidding.
If he got to Daryl, he could beat the money out of him, or worse, and he could tell her about her debts and the other guys she’d cheated.
Daryl would never forgive such a betrayal.
Suddenly, a large man in a leather jacket appeared next to their table.
“Boss, the goods have arrived,” he said to Moo.
“Good.
” Moo stood up.
Wait for me here, cousin.
I’ll be back soon.
Left alone, Shana thought feverishly about what to do.
She didn’t have $12,000 and she didn’t know how to get it in two weeks.
Daryl wouldn’t give her that amount willingly.
When Moo left with the guard, another man placed a black backpack on the table next to her and headed for the restroom.
Shana looked at the open backpack and froze.
There was a gun inside.
She quickly looked around.
No one was looking in her direction.
Everyone was busy with their drinks and conversations.
Without giving herself time to doubt, she grabbed the gun and tossed it into her purse.
Her heart was pounding so hard it seemed the whole bar could hear the pounding.
She stood up and quickly headed for the exit without looking back.
It wasn’t until she was outside that Shana caught her breath.
In her purse was a real gun.
The decision came naturally.
If Daryl wouldn’t give her the money, she’d take it herself.
And if something went wrong, well, she had $300,000 worth of insurance that listed her as the beneficiary.
The next morning, Tama noticed that Shana seemed unusually tense.
She kept checking her phone and flinched at every sound.
“Are you okay?” Tamika asked when they were alone in the parlor during their lunch break.
“Yeah, just didn’t get much sleep,” Shana replied, but her hands were visibly shaking.
Daryl came by while you were gone, Tamika said casually.
He had a black eye.
Said he hit the door.
Shana tensed.
And it doesn’t look like a door mark, more like a fist mark.
Tamika looked at her carefully.
Or a ring.
Shana looked defiantly at her hands with long nails and lots of rings.
I don’t know what you mean.
We had a fight.
He went to sleep on the couch.
No fights.
Shana.
Tamika moved closer, lowering her voice.
I’ve known you for 5 years.
Did you get into trouble? Shana wanted to snap but suddenly felt close to tears.
She really needed someone to talk to.
I’m in trouble, Tamika.
She admitted.
Big trouble.
Does it have to do with Moo? I saw you talking to him in the parking lot last week.
Shana nodded.
I owe him money.
A lot of money.
And he’s threatening to tell Daryl everything about the other guys, about the debt, about me only being with him for the money.
Isn’t that true? Tamika asked bluntly.
Shana was quiet for a moment and then quietly answered.
At first, yes, but now I don’t know.
Daryl is nice.
Sometimes I think I could be a better person with him.
Tamika sighed.
Then tell him the truth.
Daryl will understand.
He loves you.
No.
Shana shook her head.
He’ll never forgive me and I’ll still owe Moo.
Tamika wanted to say something, but then Shana’s phone rang.
Daryl’s name popped up on the screen.
“Hi, honey,” she answered, instantly, changing her tone to sweet and carefree.
“Shana, we need to talk.
” Daryl’s voice sounded serious.
“Muke came to see me at the club.
” Shana turned pale.
“What? What did you talk about? Come home and I’ll tell you everything,” he said and hung up.
Shana looked at Tamika in a panic.
“I have to go.
Cover for me in front of the clients.
” Tamika nodded and Shauna ran out of the salon, leaving her friend in anxious anticipation.
In the evening, Shana returned to the salon with a faded look in her eyes.
Her makeup was smeared as if she had been crying.
“What’s wrong?” Tamika asked, locking the salon door for the night.
“Darl found out everything,” Shana said quietly.
Moo told him about the debts, about me seeing other guys at the same time as him.
He’s furious.
“So now what?” He said he won’t give me a dime and that he’d changed the beneficiary on his insurance.
Shana clenched her fists.
I can’t let that happen, Tamika.
That money is my only chance.
Tamika looked at her friend carefully.
Shana, what are you up to? Shana didn’t answer, just opened her purse and Tamika saw the handle of a gun.
“Jesus, Shana, what are you doing?” she exclaimed instinctively stepping back.
“I just want to scare him,” Shana said.
But her eyes glittered with a feverish gleam.
Make him give me the money.
You’re crazy.
It’s not a toy.
I know.
Shana snarled.
I tried it yesterday.
She pulled out the gun and twirled it awkwardly in her hands.
See, you just press here and Shana’s finger slid over the trigger, and there was a loud click.
Both women flinched, but there was no shot.
[ __ ] it’s not loaded.
Shana cursed, looking at the gun.
Shana, stop.
Tamika stepped forward.
Look, I can lend you some money.
We’ll talk to Daryl together.
No.
Shana backed away, clutching the gun.
You don’t understand anything.
This is my only chance.
She shoved the gun back into her purse and ran out of the salon, leaving Tamika in a daysaze.
The next day, Shana didn’t show up for work.
Tamika tried calling her, but her phone was off.
She thought about calling the police, but what could she say? that her coworker had stolen a gun and maybe wanted to scare her boyfriend.
Toward evening, Daryl came into the salon.
His face was grim.
There was actually a noticeable black eye under his eye.
“Tama, did Shana contact you?” he asked.
“No, she didn’t show up for work,” Tamika replied, deciding whether or not to tell him about the gun.
“Darl, be careful with her.
She’s desperate.
” Daryl nodded.
“I know.
She hit me yesterday when I said I wouldn’t give her money.
I just want to make sure she’s okay.
Tamika hesitated but decided he should know.
Daryl, she has a gun.
She showed it to me last night.
His face changed.
His eyes widened with shock.
What? From where? I don’t know.
Tamika shook her head.
But she was really upset that you found out about her debts and want to change the insurance.
Daryl nodded silently and walked out of the salon, leaving Tamika anxious.
She thought about calling Detective Jenkins.
Maybe she could help, but decided to wait.
Perhaps it was just an emotional breakdown, and Shana would come to her senses.
Meanwhile, in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Englewood, Shana was trying to figure out the gun.
She’d found instructions online for the model she’d stolen and was now clumsily trying to load it.
First the magazine,” she mumbled, checking the phone screen, then the bolt.
Her hands shook as she inserted the cartridges into the magazine.
One fell out and rolled under the table.
Shana swore and got down on all fours to retrieve it.
When she finally loaded the gun, she felt a surge of confidence.
She set the empty bottle on the far end of the warehouse and took aim.
1 2 3.
She squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened.
[ __ ] She tried again, but the gun wouldn’t fire.
Shana started shaking the gun in fury, accidentally pulling the trigger.
Suddenly, a deafening gunshot rang out and the bullet went through the ceiling.
In surprise, Shana dropped the gun and bounced to the side.
Oh my god.
She exhaled as she stared at the hole in the roof.
She slowly raised the gun, now with more respect.
Then she remembered the safety and found a small lever on the side.
She moved it, aimed at the bottle again, and pulled the trigger.
This time, the gun went off, but the bullet traveled far off target, causing a cloud of dust from the concrete floor.
Shana tried again and again, but out of 10 shots, only one hit the bottle.
And even then, tangentially, “Damn, this is harder than I thought,” she muttered as she reloaded her weapon.
One thought kept her on her toes.
$300,000 in insurance.
If she couldn’t get Daryl to give her the money, she might have to opt for a more drastic solution.
Shana fired a few more shots, gradually adjusting to the recoil.
The last round hit the bottle, shattering it.
That’s it.
She smiled, lowering the gun.
That wasn’t so hard.
Shana sat in the shabby bathroom of her rented apartment, clutching her cell phone in one hand and a bottle of cheap whiskey in the other.
The screen glowed with a message from Moo.
48 hours, then I’ll take everything you have and your boyfriend, too.
She took another sip, wincing at the burning in her throat.
2 days.
Just 2 days to find $12,000.
Shana knew Moo didn’t throw words to the wind.
If she didn’t repay the debt in 48 hours, the consequences would be disastrous.
She glanced at the gun lying on the side of the tub.
She only had five rounds left after practicing in the abandoned warehouse.
Shana hoped it would be enough.
“Daryl left me no choice,” she muttered, taking another sip.
“It was his own fault.
The plan was simple.
Go to the midnight club where Daryl worked.
Make him withdraw the money and give it to her.
And if he refused, well, she knew what to do.
” Shana looked at her reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror.
Must hair, smeared mascara, eyes swollen with tears.
She barely recognized herself.
When had everything gone wrong? When had life become such a nightmare? She remembered how it had started.
With a small loan of $1,000 to pay for a hairdressing course.
Then there was betting on horse races, trying to make a fortune at an underground casino.
New loans to close old ones, a spiral that just kept getting deeper and deeper.
Daryl was supposed to be her salvation.
a military pension, savings, insurance, everything she needed to start a new life.
But now that he’d learned the truth and refused to help, he was an obstacle.
Shana took one last sip, emptying the bottle, and stood up, staggering.
She was dizzy, but the alcohol gave her determination.
She grabbed her gun, slipped it into her purse, and walked out of the apartment without even locking the door.
Nighttime Anglewood greeted her with drizzling rain and the howling of police sirens in the distance.
Shana hailed a cab and gave the address of the Midnight Club.
The club was in a converted warehouse on the edge of the neighborhood.
The neon sign flashed and the beats of rap music came from the doors.
A security guard stood at the entrance, but it wasn’t Daryl.
His shift started at midnight half an hour later.
Shana headed toward the entrance with an unsteady gate.
The guard gave her an appraising look.
10 bucks to get in, baby.
She silently handed over the crumpled bill and stepped inside.
The club was full of people, half-dressed dancers on the deis, drunken customers, a steady stream of music.
Shana headed to the bar and ordered another whiskey.
“Are you okay?” the bartender asked, looking at her disheveled appearance.
“Fine,” she forced out a smile.
“Just waiting for a friend.
” She downed two more shots of whiskey while she waited for Daryl, feeling her insides burning with fire.
Her thoughts were muddled, but her resolve never wavered.
At exactly midnight, Daryl entered the club through the service entrance.
Shana saw him stand at the main entrance, replacing the previous guard.
His face was as serious as ever, but the black eye left by her ring during the argument was still visible.
Shana took a deep breath and headed toward him, pulling a gun from her purse as she went.
“Daryl!” she shouted, blocking out the music.
He turned and his eyes widened when he saw the weapon in her hand.
“Shana, what are you doing?” He slowly raised his hands.
Put the gun away.
Shut up.
She pointed the trembling gun at his chest.
You have to help me, Daryl.
I need the money now.
People around us started to notice what was happening.
Someone shouted when they saw the gun, and the crowd began to part, creating an empty space around them.
“Let’s talk,” Daryl said calmly, not moving from his seat.
“Just put the gun down and we’ll work this out.
” “No, I’m done talking.
” Her voice broke into a shout.
I want $12,000 now, Shana.
I can’t get that much in cash right now.
The banks are closed.
Let’s just You’re lying.
She took a step closer, the gun in her hand, visibly trembling.
You have savings.
80,000.
You said so yourself.
Call the bank.
Make a transfer.
I don’t know, but I need that money.
Daryl shook his head slowly.
That’s not possible right now, Shana.
Please, let’s just sit down and talk.
I want to help you, but not like this.
Out of the corner of her eye, Shana noticed the club manager reaching for the phone.
Panic gripped her.
Don’t move, she shouted, waving her gun.
No one is calling the police.
Daryl took a step toward her.
Shana, listen to me.
This isn’t you.
It’s the alcohol and desperation talking in you.
Give me the gun and we’ll fix this.
Nothing can be fixed, she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Two days, Daryl.
I only have two days to pay Moo back or he’ll kill me.
And he’ll kill you, too.
I’ll protect you.
Daryl took another careful step.
I promise.
We’ll find a way to deal with Moo.
But first, you have to give me the gun.
He held out his hand.
And for a moment, Shana thought everything was going to be okay, that there was a way out, that Daryl would actually help her.
And then she remembered his words, “I’m not giving you a dime.
” and how he’d said he’d changed the beneficiary on the insurance.
Something broke inside her.
“No!” she screamed and pulled the trigger.
The gunshot sounded deafening in the space of the club.
Daryl cried out, grabbing her shoulder.
A dark stain began to spread across his shirt.
“Shana!” he muttered, sinking to the floor.
Panic broke out in the club.
People were screaming, pushing, trying to get to the exits.
Shana stood frozen in horror at what she had just done.
God, Daryl, I’m sorry, she whispered.
I didn’t mean to, but it was too late.
She’d crossed the line.
The realization came over her in a wave, and with it, clarity.
If Daryl survived, he would tell the police everything.
She’d be arrested.
Her life would be over.
Unless Shana raised the gun again, aiming more confidently.
Daryl realized her intentions and tried to roll away.
The second shot struck the ceiling, showering them with small crumbs of plaster.
“Stop!” Daryl shouted, trying to get to his feet.
“Shana, don’t do this.
” But she was already out of her mind with panic and fear.
The third shot rang out as Daryl almost stood up.
The bullet grazed his head, leaving a bloody furrow on his temple.
He collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
Shana stood breathing heavily with a smoking gun in her hand.
All around her was chaos, screaming, running, the clinking of broken glass.
Through the noise, she heard the police sirens approaching.
The gun fell from her numb fingers.
She turned and rushed toward the back exit, pushing through the panicked crowd.
Running outside into the rain, Shana turned a corner and bumped into someone.
Looking up, she saw Moo.
“What the hell did you do?” He hissed, grabbing her arm.
Let go of me.
She tried to pull away, but his grip was ironclad.
You shot your boyfriend.
Moo shook her.
Are you crazy? The cops are going to be looking for you.
And me, too.
I have to run, Shana whispered, finally realizing the gravity of the situation.
It’s too late.
Moo nodded toward the approaching police cars.
But don’t worry, I’ll make sure he stays quiet if he survives.
pushing her away, Moo disappeared into the darkness of the alley, and Shana, not knowing where to run, simply sank to the wet pavement and burst into tears.
Detective Laruan Jenkins arrived on the scene 20 minutes after the 911 call.
The midnight club was cordoned off with police tape and gawkers, and reporters crowded around.
Medics had already loaded the victim into an ambulance.
“What do we got?” Larowan asked the officer guarding the entrance.
Club security guard Daryl Fields was shot three times in the shoulder and head.
Critical condition, but alive.
Witnesses say the shooter was a woman, his girlfriend.
Loyan frowned when she recognized the name.
Daryl Fields.
I met him the other day.
Where is she now? She was picked up two blocks from here, sitting right in the middle of the street, hysterical.
The detective nodded and entered the club.
Forensics was already at work photographing the blood stains on the floor and collecting shell casings.
The gun was in a plastic evidence bag.
“Witnesses?” she asked another officer.
More than 20 people had seen the whole thing from start to finish.
She demanded money.
He refused.
She fired three shots.
Larowan made a few notes in her notebook.
Something didn’t add up.
Why would a girl shoot her boyfriend in the middle of a crowded club? Had anyone heard the amount of money in question? $12,000, the officer replied.
And she mentioned some moo, Loyne became alert.
Moo Johnson was well known in Englewood as a smalltime drug dealer and lone shark.
If the girl owed him money, that explained a lot.
I want to talk to the suspect, she said as she headed for the exit.
At the police station, Shana sat in the interrogation room, still wet from the rain.
Her eyes were blank, mascara spreading across her cheeks, creating an eerie mask.
Shana Banks.
Loy sat down across from her.
I’m Detective Jenkins.
We met at the luxurious Curls Salon.
Shana slowly looked up but didn’t seem to recognize the detective.
How’s Daryl? She asked quietly.
In critical condition, Laruan replied, watching carefully for a reaction.
But alive.
The doctors are fighting for his life.
Shana covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.
I didn’t mean to.
I swear I didn’t mean to kill him.
I just wanted money for Moo Johnson.
Laruan asked.
Shana froze, then nodded slowly.
I owe him 12,000.
He gave me 48 hours.
Said he’d kill me if I didn’t pay up.
And you decided it was easier to shoot your boyfriend than to find another way out.
I wasn’t going to kill him.
Shana screamed again.
I just wanted to scare him into giving me the money.
He has $300,000 in savings and insurance.
I’m the beneficiary.
Lowan shuddered inwardly.
That was it.
Money.
Always money.
But you shot him three times, she said.
That doesn’t sound like intimidation.
Shana lowered her head.
The first shot was accidental.
I was startled.
And then then I panicked.
I realized I was going to jail for assault anyway.
and if he died, I’d get the insurance money.
Her cander surprised even Larwin.
Suspects don’t usually confess so easily, especially with intent.
“You realize this is attempted aggravated murder?” the detective asked.
“You’re looking at a sentence of 15 years to life?” Shana nodded, tears flowing down her cheeks again.
“I know.
I’ve ruined everything.
My whole life.
” Laran closed her notebook.
I’m going to get you a lawyer.
You’ll need all the help you can get.
Leaving the interrogation room, Laruan checked the messages.
The hospital was reporting that Daryl had undergone emergency surgery and was in stable but serious condition.
The bullet that had grazed his head had traveled tangentially, not damaging his brain, but causing massive bleeding.
He was lucky.
Loy dialed Tamika Rose’s number.
Miss Rose, this is Detective Jenkins.
I need to talk to you about Shana Banks.
It’s urgent.
An hour later, Tamika sat in the detective’s office, nervously clutching her coffee cup.
“I should have called you sooner,” she said, her voice shaking.
“When I saw her holding the gun, but I didn’t think she’d really.
It’s not your fault.
” Loy interrupted her.
“Tell me what you know.
” Tamika took a deep breath.
Shana had always been calculating, dating men for money, but with Daryl, it was different.
He was just a simple guy with a military pension, not rich.
And then she found out about his insurance and his savings.
And she thought it was her chance.
Yeah.
But then she got into debt with Moo Johnson.
I saw him threaten her in the parking lot outside the salon.
She was desperate.
Laruan nodded.
Moo Johnson is known for his methods.
We’ve been trying to bring him to justice for a long time, but the victims always refuse to testify.
When Daryl found out about the debts, he refused to give her the money,” Tamika continued.
“And he said he’d change the beneficiary on the insurance policy.
It finally broke her.
” “You said she showed you the gun?” Tamika nodded the day before.
Before the shooting, she didn’t know how to handle it.
Almost shot herself accidentally right in the salon.
I tried to talk her out of it.
Offered to help her.
You did everything you could, Larwin said, taking notes.
Your testimony will be important to the court.
At the hospital, Daryl Fields was slowly recovering from surgery.
His head was bandaged, his shoulder in a cast, IVs hooked up to his arm.
“Mr. Fields,” Laroan showed her badge.
“I’m Detective Jenkins.
How are you feeling?” “I’ve been better.
” He smiled weakly.
“Shana in custody,” Loyan said.
She confessed to everything.
Daryl closed his eyes.
I don’t understand how it came to this.
I loved her.
She owed Moo Johnson a large sum of money, the detective explained.
And she saw you as a way to settle it.
Through my insurance, Daryl guessed.
God, I was a fool.
Moo may try to stop you from testifying, Loyne warned.
We’ll provide security, but you need to be careful.
Daryl nodded.
I’m not afraid of Moo.
I’ve been through Afghanistan.
Larowan smiled.
That’s good, but still be careful.
B.
In the following weeks, Detective Jenkins gathered compelling evidence against Shana Banks.
The club surveillance footage, witness statements, the gun itself with Shana’s fingerprints on it, the suspect’s confession.
The case was all but closed.
As Laroan had predicted, Moo Johnson tried to intimidate Daryl.
First, there were anonymous calls.
Then, two unknown men waiting outside his house, but police security and Daryl’s own determination kept the intimidation at bay.
Finally, the day of the trial arrived.
The room was full.
Reporters, gawkers, relatives of the victim.
Shana sat at the defense table in the strict gray suit the court had provided.
Her hair was in a simple bun, no makeup.
She looked nothing like the day they met at the beauty parlor.
Daryl entered the courtroom with a bandage on his head, his shoulder still in a bandage.
He avoided looking at Shana as he walked to the witness stand.
Mr. Fields, the prosecutor addressed him.
Can you tell the court what happened on the night of October 12th? Daryl took a deep breath.
I was working security at the midnight club.
Shana, my girlfriend, came in around midnight.
She was drunk and waving a gun around.
Demanded that I give her $12,000.
And what happened next? I tried to calm her down, convince her to put the gun down, but she was out of control.
Said Moo Johnson gave her 48 hours to pay me back.
When I refused to give her the money, she shot me in the shoulder.
And the other shots? Daryl swallowed.
I tried to get up.
The second shot went into the ceiling.
The third The third one hit me in the head tangentially.
The doctors say I was very lucky.
There was a whisper in the room.
Shana sat with her head down, tears dripping onto her hands folded in her lap.
Tell me, Mr. Fields, the prosecutor continued.
Were you aware of Miss Banks’s financial problems? Not right away, Daryl answered.
Moo Johnson came to my club the day before the shooting.
Told me that Shana owed him money, that she was only dating me because of my insurance and savings.
I didn’t want to believe it, but when I asked her, she confirmed it.
And you refused to give her the money? Yes.
and I told her I’d change the beneficiary on my insurance.
After that, she hit me and left.
The next time I saw her, she was pointing a gun at me.
Shana’s attorney, a tired-l looking man in a rumpled suit, tried to convince the court that his client had acted under extreme mental agitation threatened by Moo Johnson, but the arguments sounded unconvincing in the face of the evidence and Shana’s own confession.
Tama Rose testified about seeing the gun in Shana’s possession the day before, about practicing shooting, about talking about Daryl’s insurance.
The final surprise was the appearance of Moo Johnson himself as a defense witness.
He denied that he had threatened Shana, claiming he had simply given her the loan legally, but his nervousness and contradictory testimony only confirmed the prosecution’s version of events.
When all the witnesses had been heard, the judge recessed for sentencing.
Larowan approached Daryl, who was sitting alone on a bench in the hallway.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.
“I still can’t believe that the man I loved tried to kill me for money.
People sometimes do terrible things when they feel cornered,” Laruan said.
“But that’s no excuse.
” Daryl nodded.
You know what the ironic thing is? I was going to help her with her debts.
Not give her all the money at once, but gradually.
If she’d just been honest with me from the beginning.
Luan put a hand on his healthy shoulder.
Don’t torture yourself with whatifs.
You did the right thing.
When the court reconvened, the judge announced the sentence.
15 years in prison for attempted aggravated murder.
Shana stood motionless, listening to the sentence.
Only when the officers approached to escort her out of the room did she turn around and look directly at Daryl.
Her eyes were a mixture of regret, anger, and surprisingly love.
“I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly before she was led away.
Daryl didn’t answer anything.
He slowly stood up and walked out of the courtroom, accompanied by Detective Jenkins.
There was a long road of recovery ahead, both physical and mental, but he was alive, and that was what mattered.
Laruan stared after Daryl, thinking about how many stories like this she’d seen in her career.
Stories where love was intertwined with greed and desperation drove people to terrible acts.
And each time she wondered, could the tragedy have been prevented if someone had noticed in time, intervened in time? Of course, she would never know the answer.
But now, at least justice had been served.
And maybe this story will be a warning to others.
