…
Doctors say if the freezer had been working properly, she wouldn’t have lasted 2 days.
It’s a wonder she survived even when it wasn’t working.
Any leads yet? We’re checking into the Jackson family’s financial situation.
Preliminary findings are disappointing.
Big debts, loans, stores on the verge of bankruptcy.
Insurance? Washington raised an eyebrow.
We’re checking.
There’s a $100,000 policy on Chenise.
Husband’s the beneficiary.
Motive enough, Washington nodded.
Any word on Latril’s whereabouts? Nothing yet.
He’s wanted.
No record of his departure at the border.
No passport used.
Freeman looked at Chenise’s motionless figure through the glass wall of the ICU.
Something doesn’t add up, Malcolm.
If he wanted to kill his wife, why leave her in her own store? It’s too obvious.
Criminals don’t always think logically, Yasmin, especially when they’re desperate, Washington replied.
I’ll talk to her co-workers and friends.
See if we can find out anything useful.
2 hours later, Washington was sitting in a small cafe across the street from the city hospital where Chenise worked.
At his table was Kesha Brown, a nurse on the same shift.
“Shenise is the best of us,” Kesha said, wiping away tears.
“The patients adore her.
She always finds the right words, even for the crankiest old people.
I can’t believe anyone would want to hurt her.
Have you noticed any changes in her behavior lately? Kesha hesitated, stirring the cooled coffee with her spoon.
She’d been anxious about a month ago.
I asked if everything was okay, but she waved it off.
Said she was just tired.
She was quiet.
And the week before she disappeared, I saw her crying in the locker room.
When I came in, she quickly wiped away her tears, said she was fine, but I noticed a bruise on her arm above the elbow, like someone had grabbed her hard.
Do you think they had a problem with her husband? I don’t want to accuse anyone.
Detective Chenise always spoke fondly of Latrell.
They’ve been together since they were teenagers.
He was her first and only man, you know.
Kesha sighed.
But in recent months, she sometimes mentioned that he’d gotten irritable, always talking about money, how the store was about to go bankrupt, and then she’d stopped talking, as if she regretted saying too much.
Washington made a note in his notebook.
Did she mention any other problems? Maybe someone threatened her or Latrell.
No, though.
Kesha frowned, remembering something.
Last month when we had lunch together, some man approached her, tall, well-dressed.
They went away to talk, and when she came back, she was pale as a sheet.
Said he was an old acquaintance of Latrrell’s.
She never spoke of it again, and I didn’t ask.
The day was drawing toward evening when Washington returned to the station.
On his desk was a folder with a preliminary report from the finance department.
The Jackson’s situation was worse than it appeared at first glance.
a large loan to buy equipment for the store, a mortgage on the house, credit card debt, and most interestingly, a large debt to one Eric Big E.
Thompson, a notorious lone shark and bookmaker in certain circles.
So, we have gambling in the equation,” the detective muttered, leaning back in his chair.
“Well, Latrell Jackson, the story gets more interesting.
” There was a knock at the door.
The young officer handed Washington another folder.
“Surveillance results, sir.
We found Jackson’s car.
It’s been parked at the bus station since last Wednesday.
Looks like he took a bus.
Destination: It’s unclear.
There were buses to six different cities that day.
Checking passenger lists, but many paid cash.
No names given.
Washington nodded.
Good work.
Keep looking and check any relatives and friends he might be hiding out with.
When the officer left, the detective opened a desk drawer and pulled out a photograph.
Himself, 15 years younger, in a police uniform.
next to his wife and young daughter.
They were gone.
A slip road accident six years ago had taken them away, leaving him alone with his job and his memories.
Washington looked at the picture of Chenise Jackson in her medical gown, smiling, surrounded by co-workers.
Something in her eyes reminded him of his wife.
The same warmth, the same concern for others.
“I’ll find whoever did this to you,” he whispered, putting the photos away.
I promise.
At night, when most of the staff had gone home, Washington was still sitting at his computer looking up information on Latrell Jackson.
Born in a poor neighborhood in Baltimore, he was left without a father at an early age.
Showed an aptitude for math in high school, but dropped out of college after his freshman year.
A few minor prior in his teens, fights, petty theft once, then he seemed to settle down.
married his high school sweetheart, Chenise Carter.
Opened a butcher store.
Did well at first, then something went wrong.
Washington’s cell phone rang.
Hospital number.
Detective Washington, he answered.
This is Dr. Reed at City Hospital.
Patient Chenise Jackson has regained consciousness.
She’s asking about her husband.
I’m on my way.
Washington was already putting on his coat.
Can she talk? Very faintly, but yes.
She’s disoriented and we’re not sure her memories fully recovered.
Be careful what you ask her.
On the way to the hospital, Washington pondered the case.
So far, all the evidence pointed to the husband, but there was something else.
Some detail that kept him on his toes.
If Latrell was planning a murder, why hadn’t he checked to see if the freezer was working? Or maybe it was a spontaneous attempt made in a fit of rage.
But then, why wait 5 days to check the outcome? Lieutenant Freeman met him in the quiet hospital corridor.
“She’s very weak,” she warned him.
The doctors allowed him to ask a few questions.
No more.
Chenise lay surrounded by medical equipment.
Her face was pale, her lips chapped, but her eyes were alive, alert.
“Mrs.
Jackson,” Washington began softly, taking a seat next to the bed.
“I’m Detective Malcolm Washington.
Do you remember what happened?” Chenise blinked slowly.
Her voice was barely audible.
It was cold.
It was so cold.
Do you remember who locked you in the freezer? Chenise frowned as if trying to wade through the fog in her memory.
Latrell? Where is Latrell? Her voice shook.
Is he all right? Washington and Freeman looked at each other.
We’re trying to find your husband.
The detective answered cautiously.
When was the last time you saw him? Wednesday we were at the store.
He was upset.
Big A.
She suddenly stopped talking, her eyes widening with fear.
I don’t remember.
Why don’t I remember? The nurse at the door stepped forward.
That’s enough for today.
She needed her rest.
As they left the room, Washington turned to Freeman.
She mentioned Big A, Eric Thompson.
Latrell has a debt to him.
Do you think Thompson might have been involved? Freeman asked.
I don’t know, but we definitely need to talk to him.
Washington rubbed his tired eyes and find Latrell Jackson.
The sooner the better.
That night, when he got home, the detective couldn’t sleep for a long time.
The Jackson case wouldn’t let him go.
He felt he was missing something important, some detail that could change the whole investigation, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.
The next morning, he was awakened by the ringing of the telephone.
Washington, he answered horarssely.
Detective, we have a lead in the Jackson case.
Freeman’s voice sounded agitated.
Latrell Jackson was seen at a motel on the outskirts of town.
We leave in 15 minutes.
Washington dressed quickly, feeling the familiar adrenaline rush.
Maybe today would be the day he’d get all his questions answered, or at least some of them.
Morning light filtered through the blinds in the hospital room where Chenise Jackson lay.
Day three after her discovery in the freezer, her condition had stabilized.
The doctors spoke of a positive trend, but her mind was still in a strange state.
Scraps of memories, fragments of conversations, vague images, all jumbled into a kaleidoscope she couldn’t put together.
How are you feeling today, Mrs.
Jackson? Dr. Reed, an older man with kind eyes, was checking the readings on the monitors.
Better.
Her voice sounded more confident than it had a couple days ago.
When can I go home? The doctor exchanged glances with Detective Washington, who was standing by the door.
It’s too early to tell.
You need to recover.
Chenise shifted her gaze to the detective.
Did you find Latrell? We’re still searching, Washington answered cautiously as he stepped closer.
Mrs.
Jackson, can you tell us what happened that day Wednesday? Chenise frowned, trying to focus.
I remember I was at work.
Then Latrrell called asking me to come by the store after my shift.
He sounded strange, agitated.
She stopped talking, her face a struggle with her own memory and then emptiness.
The next memory was cold, terrible cold and dark.
Do you remember being in the freezer? She shook her head slowly.
No, I’m trying, but it’s like a wall.
Her eyes suddenly widened.
Big A was coming to the store right now.
I remember.
He threatened Latril.
Eric Thompson.
Washington clarified.
When was this? A few days before.
Uh, this, she focused again.
Tuesday.
Yes, Tuesday.
He said that time was up that Latrrell had to pay up or there’d be trouble.
How much did your husband owe? $20,000.
Chenise sighed.
I only found out about it recently.
Latrell kept it from me.
He was trying to save the store, making bets, hoping for quick money.
Washington made a note in his notebook.
What do you remember about Wednesday? Any details, maybe? Chenise closed her eyes, trying to remember.
Latrell was packing a bag, talking about the trip.
She suddenly flinched.
I was scared for some reason.
I don’t know why, but I was scared.
And then she shook her head.
No, I don’t remember anything else.
Don’t strain yourself, Washington said gently.
Memories can come back gradually.
Just rest.
When the detective left the room, Lieutenant Freeman was waiting for him in the hallway.
How’s it going? She asked.
The fragments are coming back, but she doesn’t remember the key moment yet, Washington replied.
But she did confirm that Thompson threatened her husband over a debt.
20 grand is a serious motive for desperate action.
What about that motel? The information was false, just someone similar.
Washington side.
Let’s start with Thompson.
If Latril is hiding, Big A might know where to look.
Eric Big A.
Thompson was hosting them in his office.
The back room of a pool club in East Baltimore.
A massive man with a shaved head and a gold chain around his neck sat at a table pouring over poker chips.
“Detectives, what can I do for you?” He smiled, showing a gold tooth.
Latrell Jackson.
Washington began without preamble.
When was the last time you saw him? Jackson? Thompson gave a thoughtful look.
Oh, the guy with the butcher shop came by Tuesday.
For what exactly? Thompson shrugged.
Business.
We have a business relationship with him.
You mean the $20,000 he owed you? Freeman asked.
You’re well informed.
Thompson chuckled.
Yes, the guy had some problems with the payment, but we’ve almost resolved the matter.
How? Washington watched Thompson’s facial expression carefully.
He said he’d get the insurance.
Thompson leaned back in his chair.
Something to do with the store.
Didn’t get into the details.
The detectives looked at each other.
Washington decided to press the point.
Do you know where Latrell is now? I have no idea.
Thompson threw up his hands.
Why is he missing? His wife almost died trapped in the freezer of his store,” Freeman said sharply, and Latrell himself is missing.
A look of genuine surprise flashed across Thompson’s face.
“Bloody hell, Chenise.
Really?” He shook his head.
“Look, I can be harsh on debtors, but something like this.
” “No, I had nothing to do with that.
” “But you threatened him,” Washington continued.
His wife saw it.
I reminded him of his debt.
Yes, but I’m not a maniac.
Thompson leaned forward.
Look, Latril said he’d have the problem solved by the end of the week.
Promised 50% upfront.
I agreed to wait.
Insurance on the wife? Washington said quietly.
$100,000.
Insurance? Thompson frowned.
He was talking about some kind of malfunction at the store that there would be an insurance claim.
He was suddenly silent, realizing.
You don’t think he was planning? Thank you for the information, Mr.
Thompson.
Washington stood up.
If Latril contacts you, let us know.
For your own good.
On her way out of the club, Freeman shook her head.
The picture is not a pretty one.
Latrell’s in debt.
The store is on the verge of bankruptcy.
Insurance on his wife.
Classic motive for murder.
Too classic, Washington replied thoughtfully.
And too clumsy an execution for a man who seems smart.
Why didn’t he check to see if the freezer was working? Maybe he did, but it broke later.
Maybe.
Washington didn’t seem convinced.
Or maybe there’s something.
We don’t know.
Back at the station, the news was that the Jackson’s bank statements had finally arrived.
For the past 3 months, the family’s financial situation had been rapidly deteriorating.
Cash withdrawals, bookmaker transactions, late payments on loans.
Check this out.
Freeman pointed to one of the records.
Two weeks before the incident, Latrrell made five grand in cash withdrawals.
That’s almost all that was left in the account.
A down payment to Thompson? Washington suggested.
Or escape money.
Freeman nodded.
Oh, here’s another interesting thing.
The same day this amount was withdrawn, Chenise transferred $3,000 from her personal account to their joint account.
So, she was trying to help.
Washington thought for a moment.
Maybe.
Or maybe they had some kind of plan.
We should talk to Chenise again.
Maybe she remembered something new.
There’s been a change at the hospital.
Chenise had been moved from intensive care to a regular ward.
Her condition had improved marketkedly.
She could sit up and even walk a little with the help of a nurse.
Detective Washington.
She smiled weakly as he entered.
I was hoping you’d come.
I have some new memories.
I’m listening to you.
Washington took a seat in the chair next to the bed.
It was strange, like a dream.
Chenise was looking out the window.
I remembered Latrell and I were at the store tonight.
He was scared, talking fast, nervous, something about the trip, about how we needed to disappear for a while.
Did he explain why? Big A.
Chenise shifted her gaze to the detective.
Latrell said he took money for more than just bets.
He uh he wanted to buy a shipment of something illegal, some product that promised a big profit, but he’d been scammed.
The money was gone.
She swallowed.
Thompson gave him a week.
Said if he didn’t get the money, he’d She stopped talking.
Then what? Your beautiful wife will know what it’s like to be a widow, she quoted.
Latrell was horrified.
He said he had a plan that we needed to stage something to get insurance on the store.
Chenise frowned.
Then the memories cut off again and the next thing I remember is cold.
So cold it was impossible to breathe.
Washington took notes analyzing the new information.
You say the plan had to do with insurance on the store, not on you personally? Yes.
Chenise nodded confidently.
Latrell would never hurt me.
We’ve been together since we were teenagers.
He loves me, detective.
Then how do you explain your appearance in the freezer bound? Chenise shook her head.
I don’t I don’t remember that.
But Latril never her voice trembled.
There must be some misunderstanding.
Washington decided to change the subject.
Who knew about your financial problems? Not many people.
Chenise hesitated.
Tyrone, of course.
He’s been working with Latril since the store opened.
My friend Kesha knew we were having difficulties, but not in detail.
I She stopped talking, remembering.
I think Latrell had discussed it with some cousin of his.
Jamal, I think they had recently reconnected after many years.
Jamal Washington tensed.
That name hadn’t come up before.
Last name Wilson.
I think they’d seen each other a couple times in the last month.
Latrell was enthusiastic after those meetings, said Jamal, offered some kind of business opportunity.
New lead.
Washington made a note to look into this.
Jamal Wilson.
One more question, Mrs.
Jackson, the $3,000 you wired into the joint account 2 weeks before the incident.
Was that your idea or your husband’s? Chenise looked at the detective in surprise.
Latrell didn’t know about that money.
It was my emergency savings.
I decided to help when I saw how serious our problems were.
She sighed.
He didn’t want to take it.
Said he’d take care of it, but I insisted.
Washington nodded.
That answer matched the psychological profile he’d drawn up of Chenise.
Caring, willing to help those closest to her.
Thank you, Mrs.
Jackson.
Get some rest.
Get your strength back.
If you think of anything else, call me anytime.
After leaving the hospital, Washington dialed Freeman’s number.
Yasmin, we need to find Jamal Wilson, Latril’s cousin.
Chenise says they recently reconnected and discussed some business opportunities.
I’ll check.
Freeman replied.
In the meantime, I have news.
Forensics finished analyzing the freezer.
It did break down about 24 hours after Chenise was placed in it.
Diagnostics showed that someone had deliberately damaged the thermostat.
Washington frowned.
So, the freezer was supposed to work, but it was disabled.
Exactly.
Either Latrrell changed his mind about killing his wife or someone interfered with his plan.
Or his plan was different all along, Washington said thoughtfully.
Check the security cameras around the store for the last 2 weeks.
Maybe we’ll see someone unauthorized.
Already done, Freeman replied.
And there’s something interesting.
The day Chenise disappeared, a camera across the street from the store caught Latrell leaving the store at 6:00 pm He closed the door and left.
But 2 hours later, a camera on a nearby street showed someone wearing a hoodie walking back to the store’s back entrance.
No face is visible, but the build looks like Latril.
If it’s him, it looks like Latril came back later, Washington reasoned.
Maybe to check on Chenise’s condition or to damage the freezer.
Or it was someone else, Freeman noted.
The recording is fuzzy.
Speaking of recordings, check to see if the store has any internal security cameras.
Already did.
There’s one in the sales area, but not in the back room where the freezer is.
Interesting.
Washington rubbed his chin.
What did the camera from the sales floor show on the day of the disappearance? That’s the weirdest part.
There’s no record of that day.
The system was shut down.
Someone deliberately turned off the camera, Washington said thoughtfully.
The question is, was it Latrell or someone else? On the way back to the station, Washington pondered the case.
On the one hand, the evidence pointed to Latrrell, financial problems, debt to a dangerous man, insurance, the disabled camera.
On the other, Chenise’s testimony that the plan was about insurance on the store, not on her personally, and the strange damage to the freezer after Chenise was already inside.
A young officer was waiting for him at the station and handed him a folder.
Sir, we found information on Jamal Wilson, Latrell Jackson’s maternal cousin, 38 years old, convictions for fraud and burglary, released 6 months ago.
The officer pointed to a photo in the folder.
There’s an address where he’s registered, but neighbors say they haven’t seen him in days.
Good work, Washington looked through the paperwork.
What’s this? Latrell’s phone records for the last month.
Notice the highlighted number.
That’s Jamal Wilson.
They called almost every day.
Most recently on the morning of the day Latrrell and Chenise disappeared.
Washington looked thoughtfully at the papers.
It seems this Jamal played a more important role in our story than we thought.
Chenise Jackson awoke in her hospital room feeling cold.
Even though it had been 10 days since she had been found in the freezer, the memory of the freezing cold haunted her even in her sleep.
Her hand automatically reached for the nurse call button but stopped halfway.
These nightmares are part of the recovery process, Dr. Reed had said.
Chenise took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts.
The memories came back in fragments, like pieces of a broken mirror.
There she was at work at the hospital, talking to Kesha about weekend plans.
There was the call from Latrell, his voice strangely tense.
There she was entering the store through the back door.
And then there was the void, an impenetrable darkness from which only a few moments emerged, the terrifying cold, the weight on her eyelids, the inability to move.
She knew Detective Washington would be here today.
After their last conversation, her memory had begun to throw up new details, as if the veil were slowly falling away.
Tonight, she would tell him everything she remembered, or almost everything.
Detective Washington arrived at 10:00 sharp in the morning.
His tall figure filled the doorway, his dark face serious and focused.
“Good morning, Mrs.
Jackson,” he said as he entered the room.
“How are you feeling?” “Physically better,” Chenise answered, rising from the bed.
“But my head? I’m still picking up the pieces.
” Washington nodded, sitting down in the chair next to the bed.
“Yesterday, you told the nurse you remembered something important.
” He pulled out a notebook.
I’m listening to you.
Chenise swallowed, gathering her thoughts.
At first, it was like a flash in a dream.
I saw a face.
She flinched.
His face.
Latrell’s.
He was looking at me and uh there was nothing human in his eyes.
No love.
Nothing from the man I’d lived with for 12 years.
She fell silent trying to cope with her emotions.
Washington waited patiently, not rushing her.
Last night I remembered that night, Chenise continued.
We were at the store.
I came in after my shift.
Latrell was alone going through some papers.
When I came in, he quickly put them away as if he didn’t want me to see them.
We talked about some small things.
Then he offered to help me with the inventory in the freezer.
Chenise paused again, her hands beginning to shake.
It didn’t seem strange to me.
I often helped him.
We went in together.
I started counting boxes of meat.
And then I felt a bump.
I didn’t know what happened.
I thought a shelf had fallen or something.
I felt dizzy.
My eyes went black.
I turned around and saw Latrrell with a heavy object in his hand.
I think it was a meat tenderizer, but I’m not sure.
Washington was taking notes, listening intently to every word.
Did he hit you? Yes, Chenise answered quietly from behind the head.
Not very hard, but enough to knock me unconscious.
The last thing I remember is his face and the words.
She closed her eyes, remembering, “I’m sorry, Chenise.
There’s no other way.
You’ll understand and forgive me when we meet in another life.
” Washington nodded, making notes.
“When you woke up, were you already bound?” “Yes, hands and feet.
I was lying on the floor of the freezer between the boxes of meat.
It was very cold.
I tried to scream, but my mouth was taped shut.
” Chenise shuddered.
I heard the door close, the lock click, and then it was so cold I passed out again.
Did you see Latrell after you woke up in the freezer? Chenise shook her head.
No, just heard the door close, but it was definitely him.
Who else? There was no one else in the store, just the two of us.
Washington tapped his pen thoughtfully on his notebook.
Mrs.
Jackson, how would you describe your relationship with your husband in recent months? Chenise lowered her eyes.
tense.
Latril was nervous, irritable all the time.
The money, the debts, the problems with the store, it was all weighing on him.
We started talking less.
Sometimes he’d come home late smelling of alcohol.
She sighed.
I thought it was temporary, that we’d get through it the way we’d always dealt with adversity.
I never thought he that he was capable of this.
Did you know about the insurance policy in your name? Yeah, we took it out 3 years ago when we took out the mortgage.
The bank demanded it.
$100,000.
Chenise paused, suddenly realizing.
You think he did it for the money to get insurance? That’s one possible motive, Washington answered cautiously.
We know your husband was in serious financial trouble.
Debt to Eric Thompson, loans, a store on the verge of bankruptcy.
Jesus, Chenise whispered, covering her face with her hands.
I can’t believe it.
12 years together.
I thought I knew him.
Washington gave her time to recover, then continued, “There’s something else I’m curious about.
You mentioned that at some point the freezer stopped working.
Do you remember anything about that?” Chenise frowned, trying to remember.
“It’s strange, but yes, it was very cold at first, unbearable.
I thought I was going to die.
Then I blacked out, and when I woke up, the cold wasn’t so intense.
My breath wasn’t turning to vapor anymore.
I was even able to loosen the ropes on my arms, though I wasn’t completely free.
You didn’t hear anyone enter the cell after you were inside? No, they’ll wait.
Chenise thought for a moment.
I think I heard the door open at some point, but that could have been in a dream or delirium.
I’m not sure.
Washington made another note.
Well, thank you for your cander, Mrs.
Jackson.
This information is very important to the investigation.
Did you? Chenise hesitated.
Have you found him yet? Not yet.
Washington shook his head.
But now that we have your testimony, we’ll redouble our efforts.
He won’t be able to hide for long.
When the detective left, Chenise stared out the window for a long time.
Tears flowed silently down her cheeks.
Part of her still refused to believe that Latril, her Latrell, could do this to her.
The other part was beginning to realize that the man she loved might never have existed.
Washington returned to the station where Lieutenant Freeman was waiting for him.
Her normally stern face expressed an ill-concealed excitement.
“Malcolm, we’ve had a breakthrough,” she said as soon as he entered.
The results came back from the Richmond bus station security cameras.
Latrell Jackson was there 3 days ago.
Bought a ticket to Miami.
“Contact Miami PD,” Washington said.
“Have them check train stations, cheap motel, any place he might have stayed.
And here’s something else.
” He handed Freeman his notebook.
Chenise remembered that night.
It had definitely been Latrell.
He’d hit her over the head and locked her in the freezer.
H.
So, the husband after all, Freeman said thoughtfully.
But why did the freezer stop working? That doesn’t sound like the perfect murder plan.
I think he miscalculated, Washington replied.
The store was already in trouble.
The equipment was old.
Maybe the freezer broke on its own or it was an accident.
Either way, it had saved Chenise’s life.
“Well, he won’t be able to run for long,” Freeman concluded, rising.
“I’ll make contact with Miami Metro.
” The next two days brought little news.
The search for Latrell in Miami yielded no results.
Either he had changed directions or he was skillfully hiding.
Washington spent most of his time analyzing the Jackson’s financial records, looking for any clues that might lead to the fugitives whereabouts.
On the third day, as Washington was about to leave for home, he received a call from an officer in the surveillance division.
“Detective, we picked up activity on Latrell Jackson’s credit card, a purchase at a supermarket in suburban Atlanta an hour ago.
Send the address,” Washington responded quickly.
“And contact Atlanta PD.
Have them send people over.
I’ll be on the next flight out.
” 6 hours later, Washington was already at the Atlanta Police Station, coordinating the search with local officers.
A map of the suburbs had been divided into sectors, each methodically checked.
Sunset Motel, one of the officers reported, putting down the phone.
Jackson checked in last night under the name Michael Taylor, paid cash, but the manager recognized him from a photograph.
SWAT team arrived at the Sunset Motel 20 minutes later.
a modest two-story building with cracked plaster and a faded sign.
Room number 12, second floor.
Washington led the group up the creaky wooden stairs.
The officers took up positions on either side of the door.
Washington nodded and an officer with a battering ram stood ready.
Atlanta police.
Washington announced loudly.
Latrell Jackson, we know you’re in there.
Come out with your hands up.
Silence.
Washington nodded again and the door flew off its hinges with a battering ram.
The officers rushed inside looking around the small room.
Clear? reported one of them.
But he had been here recently.
The bed is unmade.
There are dirty dishes in the sink.
Washington looked around the room.
There was a crumpled supermarket receipt on the nightstand.
In the trash can were empty beer cans and fast food wrappers.
In the closet, a few articles of clothing.
He was in a hurry, Washington said, looking around.
Maybe he saw police cars in the neighborhood and decided not to take any chances.
One of the officers noticed a laptop computer lying on the table.
Detective, take a look.
He left the computer behind.
Washington walked over to the desk.
The laptop was on and on the screen was an open letter in an email client.
A letter with no address either.
I know you will find me sooner or later.
Perhaps by the time you are reading this, I am far away.
Or perhaps you have already taken me.
Either way, I owe you an explanation.
I didn’t want to kill Chenise.
I loved her from the moment we met in high school.
12 years together, the best years of my life.
But then everything went wrong.
Debts, bets, the store on the verge of bankruptcy.
I was desperate.
Big A threatened me.
Said if I didn’t pay back my debt, Chenise would get hurt.
And then I saw this.
an insurance policy, $100,000, a solution to everything.
I thought about it for weeks.
I tried to find another way out, but there was none.
That night, I just uh broke.
It was like it wasn’t me.
It was like someone else was controlling my body.
When I locked her in the freezer, I immediately realized I had made a terrible mistake.
But it was too late.
I couldn’t free her.
She’d tell the police.
I decided the only way out was to run away.
I packed my things, withdrew my money, but then I went back to the store that night.
I couldn’t leave her like that.
I wanted to set her free, take the blame.
But when I got there, I realized the freezer was malfunctioning.
The temperature was much higher than it should be.
I thought Chenise might survive if they found her fast enough.
So, I broke the thermostat even harder so that the chamber would definitely stop working as a refrigerator.
That’s all I could do.
I know I deserve to be punished.
I almost killed the woman I loved for money.
There’s no forgiveness for something like that.
But I want Chenise to know that I loved her.
I always have.
And I’m sorry.
Infinitely sorry.
Washington read the letter twice, then turned to the officers.
Distribute the updated orientation.
We now know for sure he’s still in town and he knows we’re close.
Check all transportation hubs, bus stations, airport, train stations.
He’s going to try to leave the city.
The search has resumed with renewed vigor.
Every Atlanta PD officer has a picture of Latrell Jackson.
Patrol cars cruised the main roads leading out of the city.
The breakthrough happened the next day.
An officer patrolling the train station spotted a man who looked like Latrell waiting for a bus to New Orleans.
The man was wearing a cap and sunglasses, but the officer recognized him by his distinctive gate and build.
As police approached, the man attempted to flee, but was quickly caught up and apprehended.
Latrell Jackson did not resist arrest.
He looked exhausted with several days of unshaven hair and eyes red from lack of sleep.
“It’s over, isn’t it?” he asked as Washington entered the interrogation room.
“Yes, Mr.
Jackson,” the detective replied, sitting down across from him.
“It’s over,” Latrell lowered his head, his shoulders slumped.
“How’s Chenise? Is she Is she all right?” “She survived by chance,” Washington answered dryly.
“Or maybe not such a fluke.
” Latrell looked up, eyes wide with surprise.
“You found my laptop.
You read my email?” “Yes.
” Washington nodded.
You say you came back that same night and deliberately damaged the thermostat so the freezer would stop working.
Is that true? Yes, Latrell answered quietly.
I couldn’t I couldn’t leave her like that.
But I couldn’t free her either.
I was in a panic.
I didn’t know what to do.
He ran his hand over his face.
I thought that if the freezer stopped working, Chenise would be able to hold out until morning when Tyrone would come.
He always comes first.
Why didn’t you just call Tyrone and tell him to check the freezer? I was afraid, Latrell admitted.
Afraid he’d call the police, that I’d end up in jail, he grinned bitterly.
And now you’re here anyway.
Washington scrutinized his face.
Why, Mr.
Jackson? Why did you do it? Was it the money? Latrell was silent for a long time, as if searching for words.
At first, yes.
I thought about insurance.
$100,000 would have solved all my problems.
A debt to Big E, a loan on the house, a loan on the equipment.
Everything could have been closed.
He shook his head.
But then, then I just lost my mind.
It seemed to me there was no other way out.
That if I didn’t pay Thompson back, he’d hurt Chenise or me.
That if the bank took the house, we’d be on the street.
I was so lost in these thoughts that I couldn’t see reality anymore.
So, you decided to kill the woman you said you loved? I told myself it would be quick that she wouldn’t suffer.
Latrell lowered his head.
I convinced myself that I was doing it for both of us.
That without me, she’d only be worse off when everything fell apart.
His voice shook, but it was all a lie.
I was doing it for me out of fear, out of weakness, and I hate myself for it.
Washington leaned back in his chair.
Mr.
Jackson, do you realize you’re on trial for attempted murder? With aggravating circumstances, with prior planning, you could get up to 20 years in prison.
I know.
Latrell nodded.
And I deserve it.
I almost killed Chenise.
If the freezer hadn’t broken, he couldn’t finish the sentence.
Technically, Washington clarified, you broke the freezer yourself, according to you.
Yes, but only after I locked her in there, Latrell exclaimed.
That doesn’t change what I did.
I’m still guilty.
Washington closed his notebook and stood up.
You will be transferred to Baltimore for further investigation and trial.
I advise you to cooperate with the investigation and tell the truth.
It may mitigate your sentence.
When the detective was already at the door, Latrell called out to him, “Detective Washington, can I see Chenise?” Just for a minute before the trial.
Washington turned around, his face impenetrable.
That’s not for me to decide, Mr.
Jackson, and it’s not up to you.
That’s Chenise’s decision, but I wouldn’t count on forgiveness if I were you.
A week later, Latrell Jackson was extradited to Baltimore to stand trial on charges of attempted first-degree murder.
The case attracted local media attention.
The story of a husband who locked his wife in a freezer for insurance money caused a public outcry.
Chenise was released from the hospital a day after Latril’s arrest.
She was recovering at a friend’s home, avoiding reporters and nosy neighbors.
When Washington visited her, she looked better, but a new heaviness lurked in her eyes.
The realization that the man she trusted most had betrayed her in the crulest of ways.
“He wants to see you,” Washington said.
“He wanted me to tell you.
” Chenise was silent for a long time, staring out the window.
“You know, detective, the worst part isn’t the cold.
It’s not the dark.
It’s not the fear of death.
She turned to him.
The scariest part is realizing that the person you’ve lived with for 12 years, shared everything with can lock you in cold blood in a freezer and leave you to die.
Her voice shook.
How do you live with that? I don’t know, Mrs.
Jackson, Washington answered honestly.
But you’re a strong woman.
You’ve already been through something that would break a lot of people.
You’ll get through this.
Chenise smiled Riley.
Maybe in time, she sighed.
Tell him I’m not ready for a meeting.
Maybe someday, but not now.
Latrell Jackson’s trial lasted 3 days.
The prosecutor presented overwhelming evidence of guilt, evidence of a struggle in the store, Latrell’s fingerprints on the freezer door, his flight after the incident, the confession letter on his laptop, and finally his own confession.
The defense was built on the argument of temporary mental confusion due to stress and financial problems and the fact that Latril returned and intentionally damaged the equipment to save his wife.
This was corroborated by an examination of the freezer which showed that the thermostat was damaged intentionally rather than failing on its own.
Chenise was not present in the courtroom, but her affidavit was read by the prosecutor.
Tyrone Bailey took the witness stand, attesting to Latril’s financial problems and his erratic behavior in the days before the incident.
The jury deliberated for only 2 hours.
The verdict is guilty of attempted aggravated murder.
The judge, taking into account Latrell’s return and his attempt to save his wife, as well as his heartfelt confession, sentenced him to 15 years in prison with the possibility of parole after 10 years.
As the judge read the sentence, Latrrell stood with his head down, accepting his fate.
The only time he looked up was when he was given the last word.
“I want Chenise to know,” he said in a trembling voice, “that I accept my guilt completely.
I did an unforgivable act and no excuse can change that I don’t ask for forgiveness because I know I don’t deserve it.
I just hope that someday she can be happy again.
She deserves it more than anyone.
” A week later, Detective Washington sat in his office, finishing his report on the Jackson case.
The story had reached its conclusion.
Justice had been served, the perpetrator punished.
But as is often the case in his work, the feeling of victory was bittersweet.
Another family destroyed, another life shattered by betrayal.
There was a knock on the door.
Lieutenant Freeman entered, holding a fresh newspaper.
Our case is on the front pages, she said, placing the papers on the table.
Ice betrayal.
Husband tried to freeze his wife for insurance.
Journalists love stories like that.
Washington looked at the headlines skeptically.
It’s not the headlines, it’s the people.
How is Chenise? Are you keeping in touch with her? Yes.
Freeman nodded.
She’s a strong woman.
Already started looking for a new job in another city.
Says she can’t stay here.
Too many memories.
Not surprising, Washington side.
What about the store? The bank is foreclosing on it.
Tyrone’s thinking of trying to buy it back if he can find a partner with money.
Washington closed the report folder and stamped it closed.
You know what’s been bugging me? He asked this thing with the thermostat.
Latrell says he came back and deliberately damaged it to save Chenise.
Forensics confirms the damage was intentional.
You don’t believe him? Freeman asked.
I don’t know, Washington answered honestly.
Maybe he really came back afraid of what he had done.
Or maybe he’s just trying to look better in front of the court.
Either way, the gesture doesn’t undo what he did.
Human nature is complicated, Freeman said thoughtfully.
Love and betrayal can coexist in the same heart.
Philosophizing, Yasmin, Washington smiled weakly.
Sometimes it’s useful, she returned the smile.
It helps us not to go crazy with everything we see.
They were silent, each thinking about something else.
By the way, Freeman remembered, I’ve been meaning to tell you, Chenise has been asking about you.
She wants to thank you in person before she leaves.
That’s my job.
Washington shrugged.
And yet, Freeman insisted.
She’ll be at the Blueest Star Cafe tomorrow at 2:00.
Said she’d love it if you could make time to stop by.
Washington nodded in agreement.
The next day at 2:00 sharp, he walked into a small cafe on the corner of Main Street.
Chenise was sitting by the window, a cup of tea in front of her.
She looked different.
Short haircut instead of long hair, stricter clothes, as if she were trying to distance herself from her former self.
“Detective Washington,” she smiled as he approached.
“Thank you for coming.
” Call me Malcolm,” he said, sitting down across from her.
“The case is closed.
We are no longer in a formal setting.
” Chenise nodded.
“I wanted to thank you, Malcolm, for finding him for believing me when I couldn’t remember everything.
That’s my job.
” Washington repeated the phrase Freeman had said the day before, “And yet, not everyone would take such a human approach to it.
” She took a sip of tea.
“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.
New job, new city, new life.
That’s good.
” Washington approved.
Sometimes you have to put the past behind you to move on.
I can never fully put it behind me, Chenise said quietly.
What happened? It will always be with me.
But I can learn to live with it, to become stronger.
Washington looked at her carefully.
There was pain in her eyes, but also determination.
You’re already stronger than you think, he said.
You’ve survived the betrayal of the person you trusted most.
And yet you still found the strength to move on.
Chenise smiled weakly.
You know what’s strange? I still think of him fondly sometimes.
The Latrell I knew for 12 years.
The one I thought I knew.
She shook her head.
This is crazy, isn’t it? No.
Washington answered softly.
It means you’re human with all the complexity of feeling that implies.
They talked some more about her plans for the future, about her new job at the Chicago hospital, about the small apartment she’d already rented.
When it was time to say goodbye, Chenise held out her hand.
Thank you, detective, for everything.
Washington shook her hand.
Take care of yourself, Mrs.
Jackson.
Just Chenise, she smiled.
I’m getting my maiden name back.
Chenise Carter.
Two years later, Washington received a letter from Chicago.
Inside was a picture of Chenise in a white coat with a group of nurses.
On the back it read, “Life goes on.
Thank you for helping me find the strength to go on, Chenise Carter.
” Washington smiled and put the photo in the Jackson case file.
Sometimes even the darkest stories can find the light of hope.
Sometimes the ice melts, opening the way for new life.
Latrell Jackson served his time in state prison, attending a rehabilitation program and anger management classes.
Every day he wrote letters to Chenise that he never sent.
Every day he asked for forgiveness he never expected to receive.
Justice had been served, but the price was high.
A shattered family, broken hearts, lost years.
And yet, Washington thought as he looked at Chenise’s photograph, “Life does go on for those who find the strength to go
