Recognition flickered across their faces. The tallest one—light-skinned kid with a fade—nodded slowly.
“Oh word? We’re real sorry about Nigh-Nigh, sir. He was our boy.”
“I know he was.” I kept my voice calm. Friendly even. “That’s why I’m here. Trying to figure out what happened to him. The cops ain’t telling me shit.”
They exchanged looks. That silent communication kids do when they’re deciding how much to say to an adult.
“We told the police everything we know,” the tall one said. “We wasn’t there when it happened.”
“I know you wasn’t. But maybe you know something you don’t even realize is important.” I pulled out a twenty and held it up. “Help me out and this is yours.”
Money talks. Always has.
The shortest one—dark-skinned, braids, couldn’t have been more than twelve—spoke up first. “Nigh left school with Yusef that day. They walked home together.”
My whole body went still. “Yusef? The lil piano-playing nigga?”
“Yeah. They was always together. Yusef was like his shadow.”
“And they walked home together? The day Nigel died?”
“That’s what I said.” The kid shrugged. “I saw them leave out the gate together. Yusef looked mad nervous about something, but he always look nervous so I ain’t think nothing of it.”
“Did anybody else see them?”
“Probably. It wasn’t no secret. Everybody knew they was boys.”
I handed over the twenty. Then pulled out another one. “This is for keeping your mouth shut about me asking questions. We clear?”
They nodded, pocketing the money, already backing away from me like they could sense the violence simmering under my skin.
Yusef. That scared little bitch who couldn’t look me in my eyes at the funeral. The one who froze up at the casket like he was staring at his own sins. The one Prentice Banks kept his hand on like he was holding him back from confessing.
The last person to see my son alive.
And the cops ain’t even verify that shit.
I drovestraight to Brandi’s apartment, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles ached. The rage was building in my chest, hot and heavy, but I kept it contained. For now. Couldn’t afford to lose control until I had all the pieces in place.
Brandi opened the door looking like she hadn’t slept in weeks. Which she probably hadn’t. Her bonnet was crooked, her eyes were swollen, and she was wearing the same raggedy house dress I’d seen her in three days ago. Grief was eating her alive from the inside out.
Good. That meant she’d be ready to hear what I had to say.
“We need to talk.” I pushed past her into the apartment without waiting for an invitation.
She closed the door and followed me to the living room, arms crossed over her chest. “You find something?”
“Yeah.” I turned to face her. “I found out that your boy Yusef was the last person to see Nigel alive. They walked home from school together the day he died.”
Brandi’s face went through about five different emotions in two seconds. Confusion. Disbelief. Then something darker settling in her eyes.
“What?”
“I told you something was off about that boy. Now I know why.”
“But Yusef is—he’s just a kid. He and Nigel was best friends.”
“Was they though?” I stopped pacing and looked at her. “You ever see any bruises on Yusef? Any signs that maybe Nigel wasn’t being so friendly to him? Remember those boys at the funeral said that he was bullying him.”
