A cargo truck on the next street slammed into a pothole with a heavy thud. The pavement trembled beneath their feet. The cocoon slid off of the sidewalk and squished onto the street. The impact tore the side open. The victim’s right arm slipped out into the puddle of goo.
“The Husk Killer,” he said.
Bella cursed under her breath. Someone needed to give them a ticket for speeding. She frowned. “What?”
“Saw you on the news the other day, Bella.” He looked back at her as she tried not to gag. “They’ve dubbed him ‘The Husk Killer’ because of you.”
Bella rubbed her head. “I only said it reminded me of a corn husk. I was talking to officer Peters when I said it. I didn’t even know they had a camera on me. Geez.”
From seven blocks away, headlights approached. “Reinforcements?”
He pivoted and headed back to the alley.
She squinted towards the lights. “Probably the coroner.” She followed him.
“Those unmarked cars are CPD,” Link’s voice came over the comms.
Spant looked up. The moon peeked from behind the clouds. “It’s late. You should be in bed.”
“But— ” Link started but was quickly cut off.
“Bed. Now,” he snapped. “I will be there shortly.”
Bella looked up at him and smiled. “Trials of parenthood.”
Spant huffed in response.
“Flying solo tonight? Where is your partner?” he asked.
As the headlights became more prominent, her shoulders stiffened.
“Don’t know. You should leave before they see you.”
“There’s something else.”
Spant threw a leg across his motorcycle and glanced up at her.
“They approved Lila Jean Reno’s release. She gets out tomorrow morning.”
The shadows didn’t move. Neither did he. But something closed in his chest.
His motorcycle was a mix match of scraps, and salvaged bits and pieces of confiscated tech taken from police impound.
“That thing’s a traffic stop waiting to happen.”
She pulled a folded piece of paper from her shirt pocket.
“There’s a secret shipment of high-tech experimental vehicles coming into the city in a few days. That’s the address.”
She handed it to him.
“Word is every gang, villain, and fringe group in Carrow is watching it.”
Her voice dropped.
“Including people I really don’t want to write reports about.”
He nodded. “It’s Pharma’s. They’re shipping it through the back roads.”
“Sergeant Krowe has had eyes on it for a few weeks now.”
As he slid his helmet on, he tracked her eyes. “Your boss hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” she said. “He just thinks vigilantism gets innocent people killed.”
His boot hit the kickstand with a metallic clank.
She paused. “He thinks something’s off about that cargo. When it crosses over county lines, two unmarked units will trail it. You won’t have much time.”
“So he trusts me now?”
Bella shook her head. “No. He trusts me. And he trusts that you’re going to show up whether he likes it or not.”
The motorcycle revved to life.
“Thanks for the intel.”
“I owe you my li-“
The motorcycle sped off before Bella could finish her sentence. She was used to it. He never lets her thank him. She watched as his motorcycle disappeared into the city night. “One day, Spant. I will say thank you.” She blew a strand of hair out of her face.
“Officer Sparks,” a husky voice said from behind her.
***
Horns blared and sirens screamed, as Spant drove through the dark back streets. Bella’s words of the bike being a ticket replayed in his head.His thoughts drifted to the latest victim of the Husk Killer—who the man was, and what tied all the victims together.
Six bodies now.
Same MO. Different result.
Half human. Half insect.
Pharma’s biotech headquarters rose in the distance. Every victim tied back to them.
The first five were a statement. This one wasn’t.
The Husk Killer was saying something.
He just didn’t know what yet.
The motorcycle rolled to a stop inside a secret location three blocks from his apartment. The room was dark and silent. He covered the bike with a tarp, then pulled a change of clothes from a backpack leaning against the wall.
Spant donned Andre Brooks’ street clothes. He checked the perimeter before exiting the building. The night’s air cooled his skin.
Not being one for elevators, he chose to take the stairs to his seventh floor apartment. One by one, they creaked with every step he took. He unlocked his apartment door and dropped his backpack by the door. Andre removed his shoes and walked through the living room.He paused at Zayden's bedroom door and watched the steady rhythm of his son's breathing.
Zayden's eyelids were scrunched. They flickered when Andre tapped the door frame.
The floor shifted as he stepped inside.
“I know you’re still awake, Zayden.”
At the sound of his name, his eyes stayed shut but his throat worked. Silence stretched between them until a twitch pulled at the corner of his mouth and he sat up.
“I’m sorry I went to bed late, dad. Are you angry at me?”
“Never.” Andre ruffled Zayden’s hair. “Get some sleep. You did good tonight.”
Andre walked into the kitchen and pulled a folded, old newspaper from a drawer. On the page was a picture of a woman under the article heading CARROW’S “SLIPPERY CAT BURGLAR” FINALLY CAUGHT. The article was nearly four years old.
Notorious thief Lila Jean Reno sentenced to five years in Graymark Penitentiary after a daring rooftop chase. Police say her capture marks the end of a year-long crime spree that humiliated the Carrow PD.
Andre made himself a PB&J sandwich. He takes one bite but can’t finish it. He puts the sandwich on the counter. Andre returned to the living room, peeled off his shirt, and revealed the scars of his past as he stepped onto the balcony.
Andre sat on the edge of the balcony looking at the newspaper again. He folded the paper slowly. Tomorrow, she walked free.
And this time…
he knew he wouldn’t stop her.
***
The gates at Graymark Penitentiary shrieked to life, grinding along its rusted track. A young woman with only a brown paper bag, escorted by a male guard, walked through the gate. The guard tugged lightly at her sleeve. She rolled her eyes and he kissed her. “I love your southern accent, LJ. The next time I see you, it better be sitting across from me at a dinner table.”
LJ said nothing.
The guard reached into his pocket and gave her five twenty dollar bills. “It’s not much,” he started.
LJ waved her hand. “Ah can’t take your money, Devon.” He shoved the money in her jacket’s front pocket. “Take it Lila. It’s enough to keep you from sleeping on the streets for at least two nights. I will feel better if you do.”
LJ nodded, accepting the money. She stepped into the sunlight and found nothing as the gate closed behind her. No news reporters. No friends. No family. Not that she expected to see anyone waiting. As she walked down the lonely road to nowhere, only passing busses and distant city noise greeted her.
Three blocks away, she saw him. A man leaned against a motorcycle parked on a curb. She knew the motorcycle. She knew the man. She froze, letting out a tired huff.
LJ placed her hands in her jacket pockets and pulled out a small device that resembled a whistle. She rolled it between her fingers as she walked in his direction. The closer she got to him the more she was reminded of how she ended up in this situation. He had turned her in. Caught her mid-heist. Prevented her escape. He, Spant was the reason she had lost three years of her life.
“Need a lift?” Spant asked.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
Ignoring him, she walked straight by him.
“It’s like that LJ?”
Lila spun around frowning at him. “Don’t you dare speak to me.” She gripped the whistle tighter. “Y’all’re the reason Ah’ve been in prison for these past three years.”
“I didn’t make you break into Carrow’s finest museum and attempt to steal a valuable diamond brooch.”
LJ narrowed her eyes. “No. Y’all just prevented me from escaping. Couldn’t just mind your own business.”
He crossed the street and came to a stop in front of her.
Craning her neck, she shoved her finger into his chest. “Don’t y’all come any closer.”
“Stealing is wrong, LJ. You know that. I couldn’t stand by and pretend I didn’t see you.”
LJ clutched her fists. “It was going to be mah last heist. I needed the money for...” She stopped herself. “Why am ah explaining mahself to you for?” LJ turned toward the street.
Spant walked back to his bike and mounted it. “I didn’t come here to upset you.” He turned the switch, the engine roared to life. “I came to give you a ride. I thought I owed you that much, at least, LJ.”
“Stop calling me LJ!”
“I tell you what,” he offered. “I’ll stop calling you ‘LJ’ if you let me give you a ride, LJ er. uh Lila Jean.”
“Ah hate that even more,” she frowned.
Spant eased the motorcycle along beside her as she kept walking. Lila cut her eyes at him and sighed. “Fine. Y’all ain’t going to stop following me are you?”
Spant smirked. He held the bike steady as she mounted the seat behind him.
She refused to hold on to him. The ride stayed quiet. He tracked her in the side mirrors, and every time she caught him looking, she frowned and turned away.
“Where do you want me to drop you?” Spant yelled over the engine’s roar.
LJ gave him an address. “A friend of mines is going to meet me there.”
Spant nodded. He knew the address. Lila wasn’t going to meet a friend. This was the address of a retirement home.
She thought she was being discreet but she didn’t know Spant already knew her father was a resident there.
“Spant,” she said, her voice competing against the roar of the engine. “Ah did a lot of thinking in prison. Ah’ve turned over a new leaf. Gone straight. Ah just want a quiet life.”
She sat up straight, watching the birds fly by.
His grip tightened on the handlebars.
***
Spant parked across from the nursing home, outside a closed café. He helped LJ off the bike. She looked across the street at the nursing home and back at him.
“Thank you. Ah’ll walk from here.”
Spant kicked out the kickstand. He went to the back of his motorcycle and retrieved a folded newspaper and handed the bundle to her. “I took these off you the night I caught you.”
“Could’ve turned them in. Didn’t.”
LJ’s hands shook as she took the bundle from him.
Inside, was her old lock pick set, and a cheap heart shaped locket.The picks were worn. One was slightly bent — the one she used the most.
She opened the locket. A picture of her parents was still inside. On the front cover of the newspaper was an article about her trial.
“They got a lot of things wrong in the article.”
“They always do,” LJ replied. She held the paper up to her face and peered over the paper at him. The look she gave him left Spant wondering whether she was calculating revenge… or holding herself back from hugging him.
The cold words of “Thank you,” slid across her lips. She turned and walked across the street.
Spant watched her as she entered Carrow Lark Nursing Home. He didn’t leave until the doors closed behind her.
A dark, unmarked car began trailing Spant as he pulled away. He caught the car flashing its lights at him in his side mirror and remembered his conversation with Bella the night before.
Her words of “That thing’s a traffic stop waiting to happen” rang in his head. Spant took a sharp turn down a dead-end alley.He spun his motorcycle around to face the street. The car stopped at the entrance. He sat, waiting for them to make the first move. The car slowly drove off but not before a gloved hand slid out of the driver’s window, a gun leveled straight at him.
Spant turned on his head light, and revved the engine. The dark car drove off.
Spant smiled.
Just then, his cell phone rang. It was from Carrow Unified, Zayden’s school.
Mr. Brooks? This is Carrow Unified. There’s been an incident involving Zayden.”
“I’m on my way,” he answered immediately, not giving the woman a second to explain.
***
Ten minutes later, Andre was changed and standing in front of the receptionist at Carrow Unified. “I am Andre Brooks. I was told there was an incident regarding Zayden.”
Zayden’s teacher, Ella Banks, approached Andre and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“Mr. Brooks. Hi. I’m Ella Banks, Zayden’s English teacher.”
“I remember you,” Andre said, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. His eyes flicked past her. “Where’s Zayden? What happened?”
Ms. Banks turned and led him through the building toward the rear exit. “Your son is fine.”
“Then why did you call me?” Andre asked.
They stepped through the glass door into the playground. Zayden stood near a tree, speaking quietly with a woman he didn’t know.
“As you can see,” Ms. Banks said, “he’s all right.”
Andre’s jaw tightened. “So why am I here? And who’s that with him?”
Ms. Banks gestured toward a boy several yards away. He looked to be about fifteen, taller than Zayden, holding a wad of tissues to a bloody nose. An angry man hovered beside him, arms crossed.
“The student with the injury is Jeffrey Holmes the Third,” she said. “That’s his father.”
Andre took in the scene. Bigger boy. Bloody shirt. Smaller boy standing calm. He cleared his throat to keep from smiling.
“Zayden shoved him and punched him during recess.”
“Did anyone ask why?”
His eyes never left Zayden.
“Is he being expelled?”
“No,” Ms. Banks said quickly. “But we don’t allow fighting. That’s why we contacted you.”
Andre nodded once. “I’ll speak with him.”
Zayden spotted him and stiffened.
“My dad’s going to kill me,” he whispered.
The woman beside him smiled gently. “He looks like the understanding type.”
Andre stopped in front of them. “Care to explain?”
Zayden glanced at a girl standing a few feet away. Andre followed his gaze. She was small. Pale. Different enough that children would notice.
“Jeff called her a Geno,” Zayden said. “He shoved her off the swing and has been picking on her all week.”
Andre exhaled slowly. “I see.”
The woman stepped forward, extending her hand. “Selene Kade. I was visiting the school when I saw what happened.”
She smiled at Zayden. “You’ve raised an admirable son.”
Andre shook her hand. “Andre Brooks.”
The girl stepped forward before Andre could speak.
Her hands rubbed over each other. “I didn’t mean for him to get in trouble.”
Andre crouched slightly so he was eye level with her.
“Your name’s Kamaria isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes,” she nodded.
“Well, Kamaria,” Andre said evenly, “you didn’t do anything wrong. And neither did my son.”
Zayden looked at him, surprised.
Behind them, a sharp laugh cut through the yard.
“Oh, that’s rich.”
Jeffrey Holmes II stormed toward them, face red. “Your kid assaults mine, and you’re lecturing her?”
He jabbed a finger toward Kamaria. “That geno’s been causing problems all week.”
Andre rose slowly to his full height.
“You should choose your next words carefully,” he said.
Holmes scoffed. “Or what? You gonna do something? I’ll call the police right now.”
He pulled out his phone.
Andre didn’t move.
“Go ahead,” he said calmly. “Just make sure you tell them your son shoved a girl off a swing and used a slur. I’m sure her mother—the District Attorney—would like to hear that,” Andre said, glancing toward Kamaria.
Holmes hesitated and looked at Kamaria.
Selene looked at Andre. The air shifted.
Zayden swallowed.
Holmes lowered the phone slowly. Zayden’s teacher, Ella Banks rushed over. “There is no need to involve the law. If we could all just calm down.” she said watching Jeffrey Holmes II.
“This isn’t over,” he muttered, walking away.
Andre nodded once. “No. It’s not.”
Kamaria looked up at Andre. “Is… is he mad at you?” she asked, nodding toward Zayden.
Andre rested a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“No,” he said. “I’m proud of him.”
Zayden’s breath hitched.
“What’s going on here? Where’s my daughter?”a fiery female voice said from behind them.
Andre guided Zayden with a hand on his shoulder.
“If you don’t mind, Ms. Banks, I will be taking Zayden home now.”
“Mr. Brooks, you don’t have to take Zayden out,” she said. “It was not our intention to send him home early.”
Andre guided Zayden with a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got the rest of the day. I’m spending it with my son.”
They’d only gone a few steps when Andre felt Zayden stop.
He turned. “Is something wrong, Zayden?”
Zayden stared up at him. “You… you called me your son.”
He scratched the back of his neck and lowered his eyes. “You’ve never called me that.”
His eyes filled before he could stop. “I didn’t think you loved me like I was your real son.”
“I didn’t say it before because I was afraid,” Andre admitted. “Afraid that if I said it out loud… if I made it real… someone would come and take you away from me.”
Andre pulled Zayden into a tight embrace. “You are my son. I do love you. Don’t ever doubt that.”
Selene watched quietly as they held onto each other.
When Ella Banks started toward them, Selene gently caught her arm.
“Let them have a moment.”
Zayden pulled back, smiling through tears. “Dad… how did you know who Kamaria was? I never said her name.”
Andre ruffled his hair. “You really think I’d let my son spend eight hours a day somewhere and not know who’s around him?”
He straightened. “You did good today. Violence isn’t always the answer — but sometimes it’s the only sound people hear.”
Zayden glanced at Kamaria, who was watching her mother speak with Jeffrey II.
Andre glanced toward Kamaria and her mother.
“She’ll be okay. Her mom will make sure of it.”
“Go grab your bag, Zayden.”
As Zayden ran back inside, a sudden gust of wind tore a folder from Selene’s hands, scattering papers across the yard. Andre moved instinctively, already chasing them down.
Andre gathered all the papers, and handed them to her. Selene took the papers from him, her fingers brushing his briefly. “Thank you, Mr. Brooks. You moved fast.”
Andre shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. “Comes with the job.”
She studied him, dark eyes thoughtful as the wind tugged loose strands of hair into her face. “You seem calm. Most people wouldn’t be.”
“Years of practice.” He noted. “Most fires burn out when you cut off its fuel source.”
“I’ll remember that.” She tucked the folder beneath her arm and shrugged lightly. “It’s encouraging to see a father teach by example. Not with fists. Not with anger.”
Andre met her gaze. “That’s not how I was raised.”
Selene found herself lingering, unsettled by her own curiosity.
Finally, Selene inclined her head stepping back. “Thank you again, Mr. Brooks. I have to get these paper to my attorneys.” She turned to Ella Banks saying the school will have the funds by the end of the week.
“Good day, Mr. Brooks,” Selene said as she walked away.
“Good day, Ms. Kade.”
“Ready, dad,” Zayden’s voice breaking the silence.
***
By nightfall, the city stretched out beneath them. Carrow pulsed with music, voices, and city lights. Andre and Zayden sat side by side on the rooftop.
Zayden sat watched as he worked on a crawler.
A woman’s scream caught their attention.
Andre reached for his binoculars.
Zayden rose, slightly. “What do you see?” he asked looking in the direction the scream came from.
Andre handed him the binoculars. “False alarm.” He picked up the screwdriver and returned to the crawler.
Zayden looked. A young woman darted away from a friend, laughing as water blasted after her.
Zayden scanned the rest of the area. Carrow PD walked the beat. A runaway car nearly clipped a bystander. Then he paused.
“What do you see?” Andre asked him.
“I see that lady they were talking about on the news last night,” Zayden said. “Lila Jean Reno.”
The name caught his attention. “What is she doing?” he asked, reaching for the binoculars.
Andre watched Lila Jean walk into a bar. A We’re Hiring
sign hung on the door.
“Good,” he whispered.
He returned the binoculars and lifted the crawler.
“Can you fix it, dad?” Zayden pointing. “I don’t know why the drone shorted out on me. I was being careful with it last night.”
“It can be fixed. No need to worry.” Andre pried open the back panel. “And if I can’t fix it, I’ll just get another one.”
Zayden watched him work. “Why don’t you yell like most people?” he asked. “At school, with Mr. Holmes. You didn’t raise your voice once.
“I chose not to feed his anger. If we both yelled, who would be listening?”
Zayden took a bite of his apple. “I thought he was going to hit you.”
Andre laid the crawler on the ground. “Remember what I said earlier about violence not being necessary all of the time.”
Zayden nodded.
“Good. There’s a time and place for violence. That wasn’t it. The situation required de-escalation. “
“Besides, if he had hit you, you would have made him regret it.”
Andre stayed quiet, working on the crawler.
“I want to be just like you, Dad,” Zayden turned back to the city.
He lifted the binoculars again.
Lila Jean staggered out of the bar, narrowly missing the doorframe. A bouncer shoved her hard enough that she nearly stumbled into traffic. He tossed a newspaper at her.
She stared at him but said nothing. Just walked across the street.
Zayden frowned. Through the lenses, he tracked her easing down the street watching the man and disappeared into the dark shadows. Someone whistled. A man in dark clothing and shades pulled a white envelope from his jacket. The bouncer smiled counting the bills inside of it.
Zayden glanced at his father ready to say speak then stopped. Andre didn’t look up from the crawler. Zayden held it in. He knew what it would do to him and chose to watch instead.