Two

Clutching a bouquet of flowers, Sharon Green stepped out of her white Fiat 500L under the bright, hot sun and took a deep breath. The smell of freshly mown grass and flowers infiltrated her nostrils. She looked at the sprawling cemetery before her and heaved a heavy, emotional sigh. She headed toward the entrance and walked through the rusty gate leading into the path of graves spread out in every direction, the white and gray polished-granite tombstones reflecting the sunlight. Very few of the graves were cared for. It seemed like once you were dead, you were forgotten.

She walked evenly to Pike’s grave and knelt before his headstone. She missed him greatly and thought about him every single day. His death was uncalled for and still unsolved. She removed the dead flowers she’d left from her previous visit and replaced them with the fresh set she had, with its rainbow colors.

Etched into Pike’s headstone were the words “Always loved and forever missed.” He was mostly missed by her. Sharon saved every penny she had to pay for his headstone, and the drug money he had stashed in his apartment provided him with a comfortable eternal resting place.

She sighed deeply as she wiped away the few tears trickling down her face. She planted her knees into the ground and curved over, trying to maintain her composure. She didn’t mind staining her pants with grass and dirt, wanting to be as close to him as possible. She’d loved him, and he’d loved her. Her happiness was stolen from her.

“I promise, Pike, I will find the people that did this to you, that put you here, that took you away from me. I will.” Her voice cracked, but her heart never wavered.

...

Sharon Green had come a long way from smoking weed with her friends in a Brooklyn park to busting her ass to make rank in the NYPD from uniformed officer to detective third grade. From the day Pike died, she knew what she had to do. She was going to find and arrest those responsible for his murder.

As she studied and trained at the Academy, her heart went out when she heard about Mona. Hers too was an unsolved murder. When she tried to find her former best friends, Tamar, Cristal, and Lisa, she kept coming up on dead ends. Then, news about Cristal and her family came about—an entire family brutally murdered on Thanksgiving. The carnage was devastating to hear. Unreal. So quickly, things had drastically changed.

Sadly and with a heavy heart, she went to the closed-casket funeral for the murdered family at New Baptist Church in Brooklyn. The crowd that came to pay their respects was massive. The unspeakable murder of Cristal and her family had been national news for more than a month—children, the elderly, men and women, all shot execution-style in the small Brooklyn apartment like they were casualties of war. New York was sickened by the news, and the country was in shock.

“What monsters could commit such a ghastly crime?” was the question everybody was asking. The city was confused. Two of the alleged gunmen were shot and killed on the scene, leaving the police department scratching its head. The mayor vowed to the public that the remaining killer or killers would be found, tried, convicted, and punished to the fullest extent of the law.

The large church was jam-packed with one thousand people, standing room only, as all members of the community came out in droves to pay their respects to the seventeen closed caskets that lined the stage, from grandmother to grandchild. It seemed like everyone in Brooklyn had come to the funeral, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the place.

Sharon looked around for Tamar and Lisa at the funeral, but neither girl was anywhere to be found, which was odd.

Thinking about Cristal’s demise along with her family was heartbreaking. If Sharon were a weak woman, she would have broken. But she didn’t break. She bent a little, but the pain wasn’t enough to snap her in half. In fact, it only made her stronger.

...

She touched the headstone, trying to hold back her tears. Though years had passed since Pike had been gunned down in cold blood, it still felt like yesterday.

“I will always love you,” she softly said. She took another deep breath and rose to her feet.

There were so many questions. Did he know his killers? Was it a past beef with someone? What if he had survived? What if he were still alive? Where would she be? Was becoming an NYPD officer her calling?

After a year on the job, Sharon had begun gathering documents on Pike’s murder—witness statements, ballistics—anything to help her solve it. As a detective third grade, she had access to a few things and a little legroom to investigate Pike’s murder on her own time. The case became as cold as ice, as did Cristal and Mona’s murders. All the murders were clean. There was no trace evidence, no solid witnesses, and most importantly, no solid motives. Only speculation. She didn’t see any connection between Pike’s death and Cristal’s and Mona’s, but her gut feeling was telling her there was one.

She exited the cemetery and got behind the wheel of her Fiat, where she lingered for a moment. So much was on her mind.

Her service piece, a Glock 19, was holstered on the passenger seat. It had never been fired. Her career in the NYPD had been a cool stint so far—nothing too complicated; no shootouts or life-threatening situations. She didn’t have any wild stories to share with her coworkers, like most experienced officers. She’d made a lot of collars and did her job respectfully, amicably, and with adherence to the rules. She’d started out as a beat cop in the Bronx, and then made patrol with a ten-year veteran who taught her the ropes of the job—the dos and don’ts, and how to survive. Sharon learned fast, and her captain took notice.

She started the ignition. She wanted to cruise through her old neighborhood before going home. Since she’d become a part of the NYPD family, some of the people in her old hood despised her, calling her a pig and a traitor. They wanted nothing to do with her. Others were proud of her accomplishment, that she had actually done something with her life. She was one of the few who’d made it, and that meant a lot to them.

She drove down Pitkin Avenue. The hot July weather brought everyone outside. Hustlers hugged the corners, and crackheads scrounged around for their next hit. Sharon watched as street peddlers lined the sidewalk, moving their illegal CDs, DVDs, and electronics.

Sharon parked and walked into her favorite store, Mike’s Chicken and Pizza, nestled on Pitkin Avenue. The weathered green awning was a testament to the shop’s longevity. Chicken and pizza was a strange combination for a restaurant to promote, but Mike, a small Italian man that the locals respected, had been around for years and had the best chicken and the best pizza in all of Brownsville and Bed-Stuy. Anyone not familiar with the restaurant usually frowned at fried chicken and pizza being sold together—chicken was soul food, and no Italian had the right to make it better. But Mike’s chicken, with its special ingredient, could rival most soul food restaurants.

Sharon walked into the crowded place, its reputation having spread to Queens, Harlem, and even upstate New York. Today, she had a taste for some BBQ chicken. She placed her order and waited near the door, fumbling with her smartphone, checking everyone’s latest status on Facebook. As she stood around, she noticed the eyes on her. People who knew her from back in the days gawked at her like she no longer belonged in Brooklyn. But their stares didn’t intimidate her. She had come for some food, not to be spotlighted because of her occupation.

As she waited for her order, she looked to her right, and through her peripheral vision she noticed a familiar face. It was Black Earth—Tamar’s loud, obnoxious, ghetto mother. Sharon was surprised to see the woman. It had been a long time. The last time she had seen Black Earth, she and Tamar had gotten into it, and cops hauled her off to jail for disorderly conduct.

Sharon observed the husky woman. She had seen better days. Her clothes were worn and old, her long weave looked unkempt, and her cheekbones looked caved in. She looked like she was on some kind of drug, crack maybe.

Tossing her smartphone back into her pocket, Sharon hurried after Black Earth as she trekked down the sidewalk, following her like the professional investigator she’d been trained to be. Maybe she has an idea where Tamar is.

Black Earth slid into the lobby of a four-story building at the end of the block, and Sharon was right behind her, forgetting about the order she’d placed at Mike’s.

Sharon walked into the building lobby and caught Black Earth disappearing into the stairway. She moved like a cat trying to catch a mouse. She could hear Black Earth climbing the stairs, her breathing heavy like an asthma patient’s. She was out of shape and not hard to miss.

Black Earth arrived on the fourth floor and moved down the narrow hallway and knocked on an apartment door with a sense of urgency. Sharon was close behind and watched her from the stairway door. It was obvious to her what Black Earth was there for.

A young, shirtless thug opened the brown apartment door up. “You back again?” he said to her roughly.

“Yeah,” Black Earth answered, her tone gentle.

“You got my money?”

Black Earth nodded. She showed him a clump of dollar bills, and he snatched it from her.

“Next time, you call a nigga first,” he told her as he served her some drugs.

Black Earth quickly pivoted away from the scowling thug. As she came Sharon’s way, Sharon stepped back from the stairway door and waited to confront her.

When the stairway door opened up and Black Earth came into her view, Sharon said, “Black Earth.”

Startled, Black Earth spun around, looking at her with wild eyes, ready to attack Sharon like she was an enemy. “What the fuck! Don’t be muthafuckin’ sneakin’ up on me, bitch!”

“It’s me, Sharon. You remember me, Tamar’s friend?” Sharon said quickly.

Sharon was already on the defensive, not knowing how Black Earth would react. She was known to have violent outbursts. She had her gun and shield on her and kept a safe distance from the woman, and her hand near her Glock, just in case the conversation went sour.

“Aren’t you a cop?”

“Yes.”

Black Earth went from looking angry to worried. She tried to hide the vials of crack in her hand, wrapping her arm around her stout frame.

Sharon told her, “Don’t worry, I’m not here to arrest you.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“Tamar. When was the last time you saw her?”

“I don’t talk to that bitch,” Black Earth spat. Her relationship with her daughter was still strained after Tamar, Cristal, Lisa, and Mona jumped her.

“When was the last time you talked to her?”

“She don’t come around much, and when she do, she takes her sisters and brother on these nice shopping sprees, flossing her fuckin’ money, buying them nice, expensive things. I gave birth to that stingy bitch, and she don’t give me a fuckin’ dime.”

“Shopping sprees?”

“Yeah.”

“Where did she get the money?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, but that bitch is rollin’ in the dough. That bitch flossin’ her money in front of my face, tryin’ to be spiteful. I push her out my pussy and look how she do me.”

Sharon had heard enough. “Look, here’s my number. Whenever you see her, please tell her to give me a call. It’s important.”

Sharon handed Black Earth her card, and she reluctantly took it. “Tamar is bad news. She’s an evil, evil bitch now.”

“I would still like to have a word with her.”

“I hope you fuckin’ arrest that bitch.”

“Arrest her?” Sharon was baffled. “For what?”

Black Earth smirked. She charged down the stairway.

Sharon stood in the stairway. She thought about the shopping sprees Tamar was taking her siblings on, and where the money could be coming from. Did she hook up with a drug dealer, or is she selling drugs? She took out her notepad and jotted down everything Black Earth had said to her. She didn’t have a clue what her former friend was into, but she was determined to find the switch and turn on the lights.