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just don’t want to take that chance. I know enough to know that a lot of people have been destroyed because of DNA. Not only is my DNA on my clothes and shoes, but yours is, too. If, and I do mean if, something happens and the cops do get involved, how would we explain both our DNA on my clothes? It could be that one slipup that ruins everything. The ransom money will be more than enough,” I said.
    Wade sighed and shrugged. Then he snatched another plastic grocery bag up off the floor and slid the sandals in it. I followed him outside to the backyard to make sure he put the shoes in the trash, where he’d already buried the rest of my things under a pile of filth in a can with two lids.
    â€œHappy?” he asked, marching me back into the house, goosing my ass all the way.
    â€œI just don’t want you to get greedy, Wade,” I said, turning to face him once we made it back to his bedroom.
    â€œGreedy? Girl, I ain’t half as greedy as some of the folks I know,” he told me, with a strange look on his face. That gave me something else to worry about because I didn’t know what it meant.

CHAPTER 6
    L ike most of the houses in this neighborhood in the southern part of Berkeley, the house that Wade shared with his mama was on a corner, across the street from a liquor store. Winos and stray dogs patrolled the area more than the cops. The outside of the old house was pretty grim. It hadn’t been painted in so long, it was hard to tell the original color. The wraparound porch in the front of the house looked like it was slowly sinking into the ground. With another strong earthquake, it would. Cheap plastic curtains covered the windows downstairs.
    But the motel that Wade took me to in his mama’s old car was even more depressing than the house we’d left behind. Fast-food containers, empty beer cans, whiskey bottles, used condoms, and women’s underwear practically covered the ground that surrounded the cheap motel.
    Jason Mack, one of Wade’s many shady friends who would do anything for money, was in the room, sitting on the squeaky bed, with a large pizza box on his lap. There was a battered shopping bag on the bed, next to him. His run-down shoes sat on the floor, next to his long, sour-smelling bare feet. “So did you make the call?” he asked, looking at Wade.
    Wade had added Jason to the mix without my knowledge or consent. I couldn’t do anything about that now. But just knowing that somebody other than Wade and me were in on this bogus kidnapping scam made me very nervous. Especially somebody like Jason Mack.
    I didn’t like Jason, and he knew it. For one thing, I didn’t trust him. Who could trust, or like, a thirty-three-year-old unemployed man who bragged about the five children he had with five different women? He supported them all, which was a major surprise to me. But it was with money that he made as a burglar, and any other shady way he could come up with. He’d even done time for robbing the Bank of America where my husband stored his money. But that was just one of the many crimes that he’d done time for. With a prison record as long as a mop handle, it was no wonder I didn’t trust him.
    Jason and I had associated with some of the same rough crowds back in the day, but we’d never been friends. We had both come a long way. At one time he’d been one of the best-looking black boys on the block, with his golden brown skin and thick, straight hair. His features were so delicate, a lot of people thought he was gay until he started getting women pregnant left and right. But his skin now looked like sandpaper, covered with scabs, scars, sores, and a mysterious walnut-size knot on his lower jaw. He had fewer than a dozen teeth left. All were at the bottom of his mouth, except for one.
    â€œI made the call,” Wade said, looking around the room, with one hand on his hip. His other hand was rubbing his nose. “Man,