‘What did you just say?’ Darnell slammed on his brakes and turned to his colleague; his white eyes sprouted red veins. A Mustang driving behind swerved out of the way to avoid a collision; its driver honked his horn and stuck a middle finger up at the detectives as he passed.
‘Well I’m just saying, attitudes have changed. How could we possibly judge today about attitudes people held two hundred years ago, when our own views are changing daily here? I mean look at our own debates about homosexuality just in the past week. And my niece has just come out as non-binary. I mean, a month ago, I didn’t even know what that meant. The world is changing and we’re required to keep up.’
‘I’m wondering a little about your attitude right now, woman!’ Darnell’s voice vibrated with rage. His yellowish teeth gritted together, and his top lip pursed, forcing his moustache to tickle the bridge of his nose.
‘My attitude?’
‘How dare you use that word in my presence! Two hundred years of suffering and you come and use that damn word in my car?’
‘What word? Oh ‘negro’? I’m so sorry, Darnell.’ Vanessa covered her mouth with her hand.
‘Don’t keep saying it!’
‘No, listen!’ Vanessa protested, holding her hands up as if she was at gunpoint. ‘I’ve just been reading so much literature over the last few days and that word is commonly used in the old texts to describe people of colour. It’s just got stuck in my head, that’s all. I was out of line but I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m really sorry. It was a slip-up, I promise you.’
‘I don’t give a damn shit what you been reading. It’s 2012, not 1812. This whole case is exposing what a racist our damn president was, I didn’t expect to find the same attitude from my colleagues too. Now get the hell out of my car this second. You can walk home. You’re just as bad as Lincoln!’
‘Oh, Darnell, this is just silly. You know I’m not a racist. It was a slip-up.’
‘I’ve worked in this force for too long and been made to feel uncomfortable for nearly thirty years. I thought by now I’d have earned a little respect.’
‘Get over yourself, Darnell. Don’t you dare tar me with the same brush as those bigoted fools! I actually do care about equality. Slipping up over my words does not make me a racist. I’ve apologised for what I said and I feel terrible for it. But I won’t be accused of something I’m not.’
Vanessa’s fists tightened. She reached up and pulled at her red hair. She lowered her head and tugged down her navy blue dress-suit, fitted over a yellow shirt which she’d bought that morning whilst waiting for Darnell. She was already running out of her smart gear, which she’d managed to squeeze into a suitcase at the last second before her flight over to Springfield. As the investigation took longer than she anticipated to conclude, her limited number of clothes were swiftly running out. It was a far cry from her usually vast array of clothing filling her large walk-in wardrobe back home in DC. Whilst she’d put on a washing cycle, the Midwest winter delayed her ability to air out her clothes at speed and her rental did not come fitted with a tumble-dryer.
‘And like you have room to talk,’ Vanessa continued. ‘The way you talk about gay people offends me. I might have slipped up but you believe the words you say about your son and my sister. You’re far more of a bigot than me. No wonder your family don’t want to be around you.’
‘Get the hell out of my car, Vanessa.’ Darnel took deep breaths, holding in everything not to raise his hand. He’d never been spoken to like this in all of his years on the force. ‘I will not be told how to raise my family. Get out, this working relationship is over. I will not have you anywhere near me.’
‘Seriously, Darnell, we’re doing this?’ She rolled her eyes and stepped out of the car. Turning around, she hung on to the car door before glaring at her colleague. ‘You might play the big family man, but let’s face it, you’d have happily cheated on your wife the other night in that Indiana hotel.’
She shut the door and strutted down the street. The screeching of Darnell’s wheels zooming off down the road released a waterfall of tears. She sat down on the edge of the sidewalk and sobbed.
Chapter 16
At the Confederate Cabin, as Vanessa now referred to it, the detective patiently waited inconspicuously just a few feet away. She hid in her car, collected from her house after the walk home to the suburbs after she was abandoned by her peer.
She was conflicted. On one hand she was concerned for her colleague; Darnell had shown an unreasonable level of fury. She’d never seen such anger in her short time on the force. On the other hand, she was unbelievably hurt by his actions, but more so his words.
How dare he call her a bigot! She was always exemplary when it came to the issue of inclusion. At college, she’d been the Diversity and Inclusion Champion, even when some questioned whether her white privilege had given her yet another opportunity over her minority peers. She continued to battle with her colleague in her head, even though he was nowhere in sight. Why should she justify herself to a man who couldn’t accept his own son for who he was?
Instead she thought she would get even and focused on his other son, Thomas Jackson. The white racist child of a black family. Someone who appeared to have a real chip on his shoulder regarding his father.
