Page 6 of Chains: Unchain My Heart

She hadn’t even told Zaiden how much. He clenched his fists but tried to maintain his composure. “You’ll get your money, but first, I need that evidence.”

She shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “It’s hidden, safe and sound. In a box. I won’t tell you where until I get the money. I don’t trust you.”

Zaiden couldn’t help but scoff. “You live on the streets. Where could you possibly hide something so valuable?”

“I’m not about to tell you,” she snapped, her voice shaking. “But if you don’t give me the money, I’ll go straight to the police.”

Zaiden attempted to charm her now, promising her an endless supply of drugs and more money than she could imagine. But she remained stubborn, and his frustration grew.

“How much?” he asked.

“Three thousand.”

“Three thousand? I don’t have three thousand.”Fuck. I need that fucking box.

As their voices escalated, the tension between them reached a boiling point.Zaiden’s patience finally snapped, and in a fit of anger, he shoved her forcefully. She stumbled back, her eyes wide with shock and fear, realizing that she was dealing with a dangerous man who would do whatever it took to protect his secrets.

She came back at him hitting him with a wild swing to the side of his face.

* * *

Zaiden Simmons paced backand forth in his rundown apartment, the weight of his crime heavy on his shoulders. He was no angel, that was for sure, but he hadn’t meant to kill the woman. She was a mean-spirited old bat who had made life miserable for everyone in her neighborhood. The situation escalated suddenly when she began to viciously attack him with a barrage of insults and menacing threats, leveraging the incriminating information she possessed against him. Overwhelmed by her ruthless aggression, her arms flailing, Zaiden’s anger erupted and in a moment of uncontrolled fury, he lashed out, and before he could fully comprehend the gravity of his actions, she lay lifeless before him.

He had thought he had successfully covered his tracks, dumping her lifeless body in the murky depths of the Mississippi River, relying on the ravenous gators to dispose of any evidence. However, fate seemed to have other plans. The old woman demonstrated in death that she was not only unpalatable to those who had encountered her in life, but also to the alligators, causing her bloated remains to eventually resurface. Much to his horror, the body washed up near the riverbanks, alarmingly close to the home of a local police officer, who was now all too aware of the sinister crime that had taken place.

Zaiden had been sweating bullets ever since, knowing that the police were already closing in on him as a prime suspect due to his prior criminal entanglements. And now he could also be a potential person of interest in the old woman’s demise. Desperate to save himself, he had to locate the message she had cunningly hidden and hope that no witnesses had seen their heated altercation or his subsequent disposal of her body. Failing to find the vital piece of information would unquestionably seal his fate, sending him down the cold, unforgiving path to prison.

At the moment he had pushed her, Zaiden hadn’t fully grasped how vulnerable she truly was. The old woman had always come across as tough and resilient, but years of self-inflicted abuse had reduced her to a mere shell, a hollow creature with a fierce bark but no real bite. As she tumbled to the ground, tripping over her own feet, Zaiden instinctively knew the outcome even before he knelt down to check her pulse. In that instant, he knew she had died, leaving him with a limited window of opportunity to save himself from the inevitable consequences bearing down on him.

* * *

Before rollingthe old woman’s body into the water, Zaiden had hastily searched through her pockets. In her purse, amongst various other items, he found a photo of a small lockable antique box bearing the name Juliette Martin on the back of it and Ms. Martin’s signature, which seemed to serve as a receipt for the sale. Zaiden suspected that this box might hold the vital information he so desperately needed. Given that she lived on the streets, it seemed unlikely she had stashed the evidence anywhere else but in the box. This vital clue provided a glimmer of hope, potentially offering him a chance to save himself. The old woman who had tried to blackmail him for money, driven by her insatiable desire to fuel her meth addiction, had given him hope in the form of Juliette Martin.

If he managed to track down Ms. Martin, he might be able to find and eliminate the critical evidence needed to save his butt.

One thing he wondered immediately, was whether Juliette Martin lived in their parish. As a trader, she had probably already sold the item hiding the concealed information. His mission to track it down hinged on finding her first.

He was kicking himself for not handling the situation with the woman more delicately, at least until he had acquired more info on Ms. Martin. As far as he knew, she might as well have been Marie Laveau…the chances of finding her were seemingly just as slim. He couldn’t help but ponder the number of Juliette Martins residing in Louisiana and the daunting task that lay ahead.

However, when your life and freedom hang in the balance, there is always a way forward. Climbing onto his bike, Zaiden set off for the first location he believed could provide some much-needed answers. He made a conscious decision to engage the next person he met in a more diplomatic manner, at least until he could get more details about Juliette’s potential whereabouts.

* * *

Zaiden shutdown his Harley engine and coasted the last hundred yards to the wrought iron gates of Papa Samedi’s place. Nestled in the heart of New Orleans’ most unsettling district, his abode exuded an air of mystery and otherworldliness. Ancient oak trees draped with Spanish moss loomed over the property, casting ominous shadows that seemed to dance in the dim glow of flickering gas lamps. The gates creaked eerily as they opened, revealing a narrow pathway leading to a dilapidated Creole-style cottage, its paint peeling and shutters askew.

The property was surrounded by a wildly overgrown garden, where the scent of night-blooming jasmine mingled with the musty smell of decay. Strange totems and voodoo artifacts peppered the landscape, adding to the unsettling atmosphere. A chill crept down Zaiden’s spine as he ventured further into Papa Samedi’s domain, the whispers of long-lost spirits echoing through the air, beckoning him to uncover the secrets that lay within.

Zaiden had heard tales about Papa Samedi, stories of his voodoo magic and his connections to the spirit world. Some people spoke of him with reverence, while others whispered his name in fear. But despite the rumors, Zaiden knew that he had to take his chances if he wanted to find Juliette.

Zaiden approached the door apprehensively, but before he could raise his hand to knock, it creaked open ominously. The sudden movement sent a shiver down his spine, causing him to hesitate and contemplate his decision to come to this place.

“Is there anyone there?” he called out tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper. Silence greeted him, and Zaiden waited for a moment before steeling himself and stepping over the threshold.

The air inside was heavy and thick, the musty scent of incense and herbs clinging to his nostrils. The dimly lit interior was decorated with an array of mystical objects and trinkets, casting menacing shadows on the walls. Zaiden’s heart raced as he took a few cautious steps forward, his senses on high alert.

Suddenly, a rustling sound came from a nearby corner, causing him to spin around in alarm. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the form of an old man seated in a rocking chair, his features obscured by the shadows. The man remained still and silent, his eyes fixed on Zaiden with an intense gaze that made him feel uneasy.

Zaiden’s nervousness was all too obvious, with his fists clenched tightly at his sides as he tried to steady his breathing. He cleared his throat and spoke again, “I’m looking for information about Juliette Martin. I thought you might be able to help me.”

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