A Shade of Gray

By R. J. Hall

In the small Southern California town of San Mercury, a botched robbery in a pizza joint parking lot involving two young black men and a white man leaves one black man dead. The incident rocks the citizens to their core. Was it race-related or just a tragic accident?

Detectives James Ferrian and William Larson are on a mission to find out, but others in town are jumping at the chance to come to their own conclusions. Black activist Rev. Leasure Woods turns the incident into a selfish publicity opportunity, while one of the witnesses is bound and determined to twist the nights events to her own satisfaction.

But what none of them can know is how the robbery opens wounds thought to be long healed from ten years ago. Mysterious phone calls to Washington, DC, and a shaded past only deepen the mystery. When the small town quickly turns into a battlefield, strange alliances are madeand friendships are tested.

Where there is no right or wrongno black and whitethe best you can hope for is A Shade of Gray.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Feb 24, 2011
• ISBN: 9781426952814

R. J. Hall

R. J. Hall lives in southern Minnesota with his wife, two children, and his trusty guard dog, the Mighty Caesar.

Book preview

A Shade of Gray

R. J. Hall

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© Copyright 2011 R. J. Hall.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

isbn: 978-1-4269-5283-8 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4269-5282-1 (hc)

isbn: 978-1-4269-5281-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011902481

Trafford rev. 02/16/2011

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Endorsements

Raw page turned found it hard to put down once I started it. Mike Conlin Author of The Reluctant Pawn Eagan MN

This normally isn’t the normal genre I read. However I found the Characters and dialog kept me interested all through the book – Laurie Jordan Director of a Non for profit Family Resource Center – Camarillo CA

Enjoyed the action all the way through, looking forward to the sequel – Barbara Phelps Kaleidoscope Parent Teacher Store Merced CA

For a first time writer I was skeptical at first however the character building and over all story kept me interested from beginning to end. Waiting impatiently for the sequel – Jeff Samples - Director of Operations Pearson - Northfield MN

Quotation

There is a fine line between right and wrong, black and white, sometimes the best you can hope for is A Shade of Gray

R.J.Hall 2010

Acknowledgement

•   First of all I thank God for all his many blessing in my life.

•   To my Mom who has loved me unconditionally every single day of my life.

•   To Anastasia for her enthusiasm through out the whole twenty years.

•   To Lea Ann and Joseph for putting up with me.

•   Lastly for Gary who never realized his true potential.

•   Cover Illustrated by Samantha Andrus.

Contents

Endorsements

Quotation

Acknowledgement

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-Two

Chapter Fifty-Three

Chapter Fifty-Four

Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Six

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty Eight

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty-One

Chapter Sixty-Two

Chapter Sixty-Three

Chapter Sixty-Four

Chapter Sixty-Five

Chapter Sixty-Six

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Chapter Seventy

Chapter Seventy-One

Chapter Seventy-Two

Chapter Seventy-Three

Chapter Seventy-Four

Chapter Seventy-Five

Chapter Seventy-Six

Chapter Seventy-Seven

Epilogue

Chapter One

The two figures in the darkened parking lot were hardly visible as Joe Walker and his wife, Elaine, their daughter, Sara, and Sara’s godparents, Steve and Cathy Sims, stepped out of the Party Time Pizza Parlor, leaving the bells and whistles of the arcade games behind them. The smell of pepperoni filled the cool, October air. They had just finished celebrating Sara’s eighth birthday. It felt good to get out and walk off their full bellies.

Elaine grabbed Joe’s arm. Brr, she said, shivering and snuggling up to Joe’s shoulder.

Joe stood six-foot-two to Elaine’s five-foot-six frame. He was in great shape and worked out daily, with black hair and brown eyes that had attracted Elaine the first time she’d seen him. Tonight he was dressed as usual in his button-fly Levi’s and tight, white tee shirt that showed just how good of shape he was in—firm pecs, washboard abs, and biceps that looked like tree trunks. Elaine always remarked, He looks big and tough, but he’s my handsome little brute.

She kept herself in excellent shape, too; she had been a runner ever since cross country in high school. She was full-blooded Irish and had the red hair, green eyes, and temper to prove it.

It’s a little chilly tonight, she said.

Yep, answered Joe.

It won’t be long now and we’ll have to dig out the winter jackets.

They all started to walk toward the car.

What’s next? asked Steve as he and his wife followed the Walkers.

As if you didn’t know, giggled Sara. It’s time to open presents!

Presents, what presents? Steve teased as he winked at Joe.

But Joe wasn’t really listening. His attention was drawn to the neighborhood and how run-down it had become. They’d first started coming to this pizza parlor after they had chosen it for Sara’s third birthday party. Back then they’d come often. The shopping center had been in full operation. Shaped like an L, the pizza parlor was on the southwest corner, and a supermarket occupied the northeast corner. Next to the supermarket there used to be a donut shop, and then a drug store at the junction of the L. Heading away from the junction toward the pizza parlor, there used to be an auto parts store, a hardware store, a pet shop, and a couple of small clothing stores. Now all that was left of the original businesses were the pizza parlor, the supermarket, and the hardware store. An adult movie theater had moved into where one of the clothing stores used to be, and a liquor store now sat where the pet shop was. All the rest of the shops were boarded up and painted with graffiti.

The neighborhood was going down fast. Everything had moved across town to the new indoor shopping mall. Now the only time the Walkers came to this part of town was on Sara’s birthday. It had become somewhat of a tradition—the Walkers and the Sims’s, every October 13 for the last five years. Sara really enjoyed it.

Joe wondered if the pizza place would even be here next year. As far as he was concerned, they could bulldoze the whole area and start over. As they walked out into the darkness of the parking lot that filled the L-shaped complex to make a square, Joe noticed that all of the lights in the parking lot were busted except for the one in front of the supermarket across the parking lot from them. It was a little after 10:00 p.m., and the supermarket and hardware store had both already closed. A small crowd of people stood between the liquor store and the theater. Joe paid them no mind; he was focused on two other people he saw standing in among the few remaining cars.

Steve now noticed that Joe wasn’t paying attention to the playful small talk going on between Sara and him, and he became aware of what had caught Joe’s attention. When they had arrived at the pizza parlor around 7:30 that Friday night, it had been busy. That is why it had survived while the other shops here had failed—it served good pizza at a reasonable price, and it catered to kids. However, now that most of the rush was gone, the parking lot had emptied considerably.

They had come in the Walkers’ SUV and had parked five rows out from the front of the pizza parlor. As the Walkers and Sims’s moved toward their car, Joe and Steve saw the two people in the parking lot begin to move toward them in a perpendicular line. They were about five rows out also, but to their left, in front of the liquor store. Because of the darkness, at first Steve couldn’t tell who or even what sex they were. But he could tell that Joe had picked up the pace, walking faster. The two strangers seemed to start moving faster, too. Steve could tell Joe was trying to make it look like he hadn’t noticed them, but he was watching their every move. It seemed they were on a collision course, with the point of impact being Joe’s car.

Steve could now see the figures a little clearer though the dark. They were definitely two young men, and they kept approaching. And now it seemed to Steve that he and his friends had been walking for a mile with a mile to go; everything seemed to be in slow motion. It reminded him of being in a dream where you’re in a race, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to run. As the race went on, Steve really wished it was a dream. No matter how much he and Joe picked up the pace, urging their families on, now, the two men would always match it.

Steve’s mind began to race. Maybe the youths were just going for pizza. But if that was the case, then why wouldn’t they cut in through the parking lot, instead of taking a course of interception with them? Maybe they were just going to their car. But which store would they be coming from, and why would they have parked in front of the pizza place? Why in the hell had Joe parked so far away? There must have been a closer space.

Fight or flight mode started to kick in. Steve thought, What’s the best defensive positioning? He would keep Cathy to the outside and stay between the strangers and the women. He figured Joe would do the same. Steve had never been in any type of physical confrontation before, but he was pretty sure Joe had. There was just something about him that told you he could handle himself—not only his physical build, but also the way he carried himself.

As they reached the car, Steve heard Elaine say something to Joe, and Joe responded with, Don’t worry. Just take Cathy and get around the other side of the car. Steve, you get Sara.

Joe hit the key fob to unlock the car doors. As he did, the men were right on him. They were both black, rather tall, and wore long trench coats with tight black skullcaps. Joe was at the driver’s door, and Elaine had made it around to the front passenger door. Cathy was at the back of the car, while Sara was right behind Joe on the driver’s side, with Steve behind her.

The two men crowded Joe on his left. What’s your hurry? asked the taller of the two.

No hurry, Joe replied nonchalantly.

Steve felt his knees shaking as he moved back away from the men, further toward the rear of the car. But Joe seemed surprisingly calm.

Well that’s good, ‘cause we want to talk to you, said the other stranger.

No time to talk tonight, boys. Now why don’t you two just run along.

With that Joe opened the door. As he did, he pushed the man in front of him forward, positioning the door between the two of them.

What you mean you got no time to talk? You just said you were in no hurry. And who you calling boys, fucker? said the one to the left of Joe.

Hey, just relax and watch your language, Joe said in a stern voice, looking directly into his eyes.

The young man actually took a step back. For a second Steve thought they were going to back down, but then the man to the front of Joe spoke up, laughing. Watch your language? he said, adding another laugh. Fuck you! he yelled, at the same time pulling out a switchblade knife. His friend did the same. Shut that fucking door and give us all your money, all of you!

Steve backed up, now standing behind the car. Sara was still right behind Joe.

"Just calm down, boys. I’m going to give you just what you need," Joe said, smiling at the man to his left.

All of the sudden, everything went from slow motion to super fast motion. Joe, looking at the man to his left and smiling, crouched down and stood back up. Stretching his right arm out between the door and the frame of the car, Joe pointed his own weapon at the first man.

At the same time, the other thug moved toward Steve, behind Joe.

Bang!

Oh, sweet Jesus! cried the man in the front of the car as he went down from the gunshot.

The other man moved toward Steve, and Steve backed up even farther. Cathy was around the car to the rear passenger door, Steve was behind the car, and Elaine was still at the front passenger door. Suddenly, the robber grabbed Sara and held her between him and Joe, pressing his knife up to her throat.

"Daddy! Daddy!" cried Sara.

Oh my God! screamed Elaine as Joe spun around.

The man was standing with Sara directly behind him, the knife in his right hand and his left hand over the girl’s mouth. Joe dropped his right hand to his side, still clutching the gun. He briefly made eye contact with Steve, who was behind the car. The look Joe gave Steve made him melt. Steve knew exactly what Joe was thinking: how could he have allowed this punk to get a hold of Sara?

The thug started talking really fast. Okay, this is the way it’s going to go down. Me and this little bitch is going for a walk. You drop that fucking piece and kick it over here. I’ll let the bitch go when I’m out of sight.

Do it, Joe, for God’s sake, please listen to him! sobbed Elaine.

Don’t leave me, Wydel! Take me with ya, cried the man on the ground.

Shut up, Frankie. Where you hit? Wydel asked his fallen partner.

In the knee man. Motherfucker blew my knee apart! answered Frankie.

Well, cuz, it looks like you ain’t going nowhere. Ain’t no sense in both of us going down, know what I mean? Now Joe, you best listen to your old lady here, or I’ll cut this sweet little thing. Wydel had his head right up next to Sara’s, and as he said, that he kissed her cheek and smiled at Joe.

Joe looked directly into Wydel’s eyes. Elaine was sobbing out loud. Please, honey. Please, she pleaded with Joe, and he glanced her way for a split second. That was all it took. Joe was the type of person who didn’t have to say much; his body language came through loud and clear. Elaine knew just from that quick look that Joe would handle the situation in his way. She had seen that look before and knew Joe expected her to stay out of it and trust him.

Be a good boy, Joe, and listen to your old lady. Drop the piece, kick it over here, and I’ll be on my way, Wydel again demanded, smiling now.

"You through talking? ‘Cause if you are, now I’m going to tell you how it’s going to go down." Joe peered directly into Wydel’s eyes. The intensity of the look amazed Steve. And the smile began to leave Wydel’s face.

Joe continued, "First, don’t call me by my name. You don’t know me, and you’re not going to live long enough to get to know me. Second, you’re right. Frankie here isn’t going anywhere, and neither are you. Third, I’m going to count to three. You’re going to drop that knife. Then I’m going to blow your brains all over this parking lot. That’s how it’s gonna go down, Wydel."

The smile was gone from Wydel’s face. Sara was crying, her tears running down over Wydel’s hand still clenched around her mouth.

Wydel spoke in a shaky voice, trying to sound like he was still in control. Well, well, well, did you hear that, Frankie? I think this guy is calling my bluff. Best tell him I’m not bluffing.

Frankie didn’t respond.

Joe took a step toward Wydel and Sara with his arms at his side and the gun in his right hand. Steve could see Joe’s eyes. There was no fear or worry. It was total concentration. He knew exactly what he was going to do.

One, he said.

Both Elaine and Cathy were on the other side of the car. You could see the terror in there eyes. Joe began to raise his arms.

Two.

He took another step toward them. Reaching out his left hand, he grabbed Sara’s right arm. It’s all right, baby, he whispered.

Sara felt Wydel’s grip loosen. Joe brought his right arm over the top of his left. The knife dropped, hitting Joe’s left forearm, cutting it.

Bang!

Chapter Two

The bullet entered Wydel’s skull right above the right eye, making an entry wound about the size of a pencil. It exited the lower back side of his skull with a wound the size of a golf ball, spraying brain matter and bone fragments ten feet across the pavement. Seventeen-year-old Wydel Washington was dead before his body hit the parking lot.

Joe pulled Sara into his arms. Everything was completely quiet for a second as Joe held his daughter, who was sobbing silently. It’s all right baby. You’re okay. Everything is all right now. Daddy has you.

Joe looked up at Steve. Get the ladies in the car, he said in a low voice.

Steve hurried around to the passenger side of the car. Elaine and Cathy stood by in shock. Steve opened the back passenger door and practically had to push Cathy in. Then he opened the front door for Elaine. She was still sobbing. She lightly called out to Sara, You’re okay now, honey. Daddy has you. Steve helped her into the car.

Joe put Sara in the front seat, and she immediately slid over and into Elaine’s arms. Steve walked around the front of the car, and there laid Frankie. His left pant leg was covered in blood.

Steve looked down at him and then at Joe. This guy needs a doctor, Joe.

Gee, do you think so, Steve? said Joe in a sarcastic voice as he walked toward Frankie. Or maybe I ought to do society a favor and put this piece of shit out of his misery.

"No! Man, no!" cried Frankie as he covered up his head with both arms.

Joe began to raise the gun again.

Steve rushed toward him. No, Joe! he yelled as he got between him and Frankie.

Keep him away from me! Man, the motherfucker is crazy, whined Frankie as he continued to keep his head covered.

Steve put his hand out and touched Joe’s chest. Joe stared down at Frankie for a moment longer before he looked up at Steve.

Steve saw complete control in his friend’s eyes, and no compassion whatsoever. He was confused how Joe had remained so calm, so cool throughout the whole thing.

Come on, let’s get out of here. Somebody will take care of this garbage, Joe said, glancing over his shoulder toward the crowd out in front of the liquor store. The people, having heard the gunshots if not the scuffle before, were finally starting to move slowly toward them now that the scene seemed to have cooled down.

Yeah, let’s go, replied Steve in a low, somber voice. He walked around Joe and took one last look at Wydel lying flat on his back. The puddle of blood that had formed from his wound had created a circle above his head. During the confrontation, Steve hadn’t really gotten a fix on his age. Now, however, with the red halo above his head, Steve could tell he had been just a boy.

Steve turned and got into the backseat. Joe got in the driver’s seat, started the car, put it in drive, and drove off.

Chapter Three

All units, shots fired at Cedar View Shopping Center. Two victims down, ambulance en route, code three, the radio crackled just as Detectives Ferrian and Larson were getting back to the station after a long day on a stakeout that had gone nowhere.

Sounds like a hot one. Buckle up and call it in, Billy, said Detective James Ferrian.

Come on, Jim, it’s been a long day. Let someone else take it, Detective William Larson responded.

Call it in; it’s only five minutes away. Let’s check it out. It will probably end up on our desks tomorrow, anyway.

Ahh, hell let’s go. Over the radio, Larson spoke, Unit thirty-three responding to code three at Cedar View. Please advise.

Assailants are assumed to have left the area. Use caution, Unit thirty-three

Ten four. Unit thirty-three ETA four minutes. Larson turned and looked at his partner. Okay, Jim, let’s do this right now, and safely. Nobody gets hurt.

You got it, Billy. You watch my back, and I’ll watch yours.

Detectives Jim Ferrian and Bill Larson had been partners for three years. Ferrian was a tall, husky black man in his early thirties, six-foot-four and 245 pounds with not an ounce of fat. An ex-Marine, his hair was cut short, almost shaved, and he had a goatee that he kept trimmed tight, just a little more than stubble. When his partner would ask him why he didn’t either grow it out or shave it, he’d reply, with his trademark smile, "It makes me look like a bad ass."

Larson always said Ferrian had watched too much Miami Vice growing up. No doubt about it, though, that man was mean looking. But with his smile and body, he was very popular with the ladies. Although he had never been married, he had plenty of female friends. Also, Ferrian was a good cop and believed in justice. He would never take anything that didn’t belong to him; however, he did things his way, and his way wasn’t always by the book. He believed that sometimes, the ends justified the means.

His partner, Bill Larson, was white and short, compared to Ferrian, at five-foot-ten. He was a little on the heavy side and also much older than Ferrian, in his late fifties. Bill told Ferrian he’d earned his belly by working the streets for so long. He could retire at anytime; he had his time in, but, as he put it, what else would he do? All he had ever done was be a cop. Bill was a family man with three grown daughters, the oldest one just recently making him a grandfather for the first time—something Ferrian would never let him forget. He had taken to calling his partner Gramps.

They knew the neighborhood they’d been called to and the people in it. They were the first to arrive on the scene. As they pulled into the shopping center, a man in front of the liquor store motioned them to the area of the parking lot where Frankie and Wydel were.

A few people were standing around the scene, and one guy was kneeling down beside Frankie. Larson radioed in that they had reached the site and were exiting the vehicle. As they got out of the car, the small crowd began to disperse. People in this neighborhood didn’t talk to cops unless they had to.

Ferrian spoke up. Anybody see anything? Nobody answered.

Then he saw a familiar face. Winston, he called to a tall, thin man who was limping away from the scene, back toward the small crowd in front of the liquor store.

Winston! Winston the Weasel, don’t walk away from me.

Winston looked back and began to run.

Winston, don’t you run from me! Ferrian repeated. He called out, I’ll shoot your ass before I’ll chase you. Besides that, I know where you live.

Winston stopped and threw up his hands. I didn’t do nothin’. Why you always hassling me?

Shut up and come here.

Winston limped back toward Ferrian, his hands raised in the air. Somebody from the crowd yelled out, Leave him alone! He didn’t do nuttin’.

What are you, his lawyer? Shut the hell up. I didn’t say he did anything.

Winston walked up to the detective. Ferrian, I don’t know nothin’, and I didn’t see nothin’.

Yeah, you never do. Just get in the backseat for now, Ferrian said, opening the door and pushing him in.

By this time his partner had checked out Wydel and had moved on to Frankie. Now Jim walked up to where Wydel was lying. Looking down, he said, Wydel, you don’t look so good. He knelt down and felt for a pulse on his neck, and then he stood back up. Everybody stand back; you’re contaminating my crime scene.

Ferrian walked over to his partner and asked, What’s the story?

Frankie here says it was a drive-by, answered Larson.

Drive-by, huh? What’s with the knives? Ferrian asked, pointing to the switchblades lying on the ground near Wydel and Frankie.

Frankie was in a lot of pain and didn’t answer Ferrian. Instead he cried, Where’s the fucking ambulance? I’m going to bleed to death here.

They could hear the sirens in the distance.

Hold tight, Frankie. They’re coming, said Larson.

You go with him to the hospital; I’ll seal off the area and wait for the captain. You take his statement, too. I got the Weasel in the car. I’ll see what he knows. Then I’ll pick you up there, Ferrian said to Larson, and then, turning to Frankie, he added, Hang in there, Frankie. We’ll straighten this out.

Larson left with the ambulance shortly after it pulled in and loaded up Frankie. Ferrian called over the police radio for the CSI, the coroner, and his captain. Another patrol car had pulled up, and Ferrian asked the officers to seal off the area. Then he turned his attention to Winston the Weasel.

Winston was a tall, skinny black man. He had been hooked on heroin for years. Ferrian and Winston had known each other most of their lives. They’d grown up in the same neighborhood. Ferrian actually liked Winston, though he would never admit it. At the same time, he despised the man’s weakness and his dishonest ways.

Winston had been really popular in high school; he was a basketball and track star. Most of the kids had looked up to him back then, including Ferrian. After high school, he’d gotten a scholarship to UCLA for basketball. He’d played well his freshman year, and then he’d blown out his left knee. Once he couldn’t play basketball, UCLA wasn’t interested in paying his way through college, so he quit. And from that day forward, Winston had basically quit on life.

Ferrian was one of the first black officers on the local force in San Mercury California. He had worked very hard to get to where he was. Nobody had given him anything. In the neighborhood where Jim Ferrian had grown up, there were people who, if you were any type of success, considered you to be an Uncle Tom. This type of defeatist attitude frustrated Jim. He believed anybody could make it out of that neighborhood as long as they were willing to work hard. People such as himself and others who had made something of themselves should be looked at as success stories, he felt—people to be emulated, not criticized. He could have very easily looked at his future with hopelessness and ended up exactly like Winston. But he hadn’t, he’d risen above the hopelessness. He’d worked two jobs and went to school, entered the police academy, and finished valedictorian. Jim Ferrian believed in America; he believed that anything was possible if you worked at it.

Ferrian opened the driver’s door of his patrol car and sat sideways on the seat, facing the backseat and looking through the cage at Winston. He smiled. Winston looked at the officer and then down at his lap. Shaking his head he said, Really, man, I didn’t see shit.

Maybe not, but what do you know? asked Ferrian.

Nothing. I didn’t see nothing, and I don’t know nothing.

Oh, Winston, you can do better than that. Come on, you know everything that goes on around here. Tell me about the kids.

I don’t even know who they are, answered Winston.

Bullshit! You’re starting to piss me off. Now you know them two, I’ve seen you talking to them. Maybe I should search you or take you in for a piss test. I’d sure hate to see you come up dirty. That’d be a violation of your parole, wouldn’t it? What kind of suspended sentence you got hanging over you? The violation alone will get you a year.

‘Okay, okay, it was that Washington boy, right?" muttered Winston.

That’s right, it was Wydel.

Okay, look man, all I know is him and Frankie was out robbing tonight.

Robbing? Frankie said it was a drive-by.

Weren’t no fucking drive-by.

Then what was it?

Word is somebody did a Charlie Bronson on ‘em.

No shit? Don’t be bullshitting me. You sure this ain’t no drug deal gone bad?

No man, them punks didn’t have no cash. They was looking to get some, and they done fucked with the wrong dude—or I should say family.

What do you mean, family? asked Ferrian.

Word is they stopped a family, kids and all, and the old man didn’t want to give up his bread, so he gave ‘em lead instead, Winston said, snickering.

You ain’t giving a line here, are you, Winston? Ferrian asked raising his eyebrows.

That’s the story I got, man.

Where were you at when it went down?

I was in the store.

Where did the family come from?

I don’t know. All’s I know, man, is this guy did ‘em quick and clean and then just drove away nice and slow.

What else you know?

"That’s it, that’s all I got. What more do you want? I tell you this, the first thing I’d do if I were you is