“The police.” Brandi’s voice hardened slightly. “Have they talked to Yusef yet? Asked him any questions?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not yet. But if they come by, he’ll cooperate. He’ll tell them whatever he?—”
“Don’t bother.”
I blinked. “What?”
Brandi’s jaw tightened. Something dark flickered in her eyes—something I’d never seen from her before.
“I don’t want the police involved.”
“Brandi, they’re already investigating. They’re going to?—”
“I don’t care what they do.” She cut me off, her voice cold. “The police ain’t gonna find who did this. They don’t care about Black boys dying in Southeast. To them, Nigel’s just another statistic. Another case file that’ll sit on somebody’s desk collecting dust.”
“That’s not?—”
“Zoo’s handling it.”
The name hit me like ice water.
Zoo. Nigel’s father. The man Nigel had threatened Yusef with. The man who’d just gotten out of prison. The man who “knew people.”
“What do you mean, handling it?” I kept my voice steady even as my heart raced.
“I mean he’s gonna find out who killed his son.” Brandi’s eyes met mine, and there was no softness left in them. Only rage. Only pain. “And when he does, he’s gonna make them pay. In the worst way.”
My blood went cold.
“Brandi…”
“I know what you’re gonna say.” She held up her hand. “That violence isn’t the answer. That we should let the system work. But the system don’t work for people like us, Zahara. You know that.”
I did know that. Better than she realized.
“Zoo’s got connections,” Brandi continued. “People who owe him favors. People who know how to find out things the police never would.” Her voice dropped, thick with grief and venom. “Whoever did this to my baby—they’re gonna suffer. I’m gonna make sure of it.”
I wanted to scream. Wanted to grab her by the shoulders and tell her the truth. Tell her that her son wasn’t the victim she thought he was. That he’d been tormenting Yusef for months. That he’d stolen money, thrown punches, threatened to have me killed.
That my boy had only done what he did because he couldn’t take it anymore.
But I couldn’t say any of that.
So I just nodded. And hid the terror behind my eyes.
“I understand,” I said quietly. “You want justice for Nigel.”
“I want blood.” Brandi’s voice was barely a whisper. “And I’m gonna get it.”
Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and sighed.
“That’s my mama. I gotta take this.” She stood, moving toward the door. “She’s been calling every hour. Can’t stop crying.”
“Of course. Go. Be with your family.”
Brandi paused at the door, looking back at me. For a moment, I saw my friend again. The woman who’d welcomed me when I first moved here. Who’d helped me find my footing. Who’d been there when I needed someone.
“Thank you, Zahara. For being here. For caring about my boy.”
