the detective was strikingly handsome with a well-groomed mustache and goatee. His hair was cut low with waves that were perfect. He seemed like any other guy from her neighborhood. He even wore jeans with a nice V-neck sweater instead of a suit and trench coat like most detectives she knew about.
Detective Simpson walked into the apartment with a commanding presence, but Cheyenne still sensed his sympathy for her family’s loss. He did all the talking. After the introductions, the white detective with Detective Simpson mostly took notes.
“Let me first say again, I’m deeply sorry for your loss,” Detective Simpson said, looking from Cheyenne to her father to Kelsi and back to Cheyenne.
He spoke with a sincerity Cheyenne didn’t expect. “Cops are dicks” had been her philosophy so long she didn’t know how to think now in the presence of one so relatable.
“Your mother was shot in cold blood. There was nothing taken from her. We found all her jewelry, wallet, everything intact, except her ID was missing. When we see things like this, we think it’s personal,” Detective Simpson said, staring directly at Cheyenne, who quickly darted her eyes over to her father.
A sob bubbled up from Cheyenne’s throat, and she threw her hand over her mouth. Her father shifted on the couch, where they all sat huddled together. Detective Simpson gave Cheyenne a minute before he continued. She dug the balls of her hands into her eyes to clear away the tears and focused on his face again. She was shaking visibly. Her head pounded.
“Is there anyone you could think of that would have something personal against your mother . . . your wife?” Detective Simpson asked, looking from Cheyenne to her father and back again. He spoke like he knew more than he was letting on in Cheyenne’s opinion.
Cheyenne wasted no time. She shook her head vigorously back and forth as the tears started up again. She felt like someone had a hand around her throat. She couldn’t speak, but her body language said enough.
“Man, my wife was as gentle as they came. Nobody would want to hurt her,” her father answered on their family’s behalf. “This is a shock to us all.”
Detective Simpson gave her father a look. The detective shook his head like he wanted to understand the man sitting in front of him, who wasn’t shedding a tear although his wife had just been brutally murdered and his daughter was sobbing into his chest.
“What’s been going on at home? Any drama? Any conflicts?” Detective Simpson asked, lacing his fingers together in front of him.
“Nah, man. Everything here was peachy. We are a close family, and my wife was everything to me. To all of us,” Big K quickly answered.
Kelsi stood up and moved to the love seat directly across from Detective Simpson. He looked over at her. She lowered her eyes and started swinging her legs in and out. Cheyenne noticed. She knew her friend so well.
“Well, my fath—he, um, just recently came home from being in prison,” Cheyenne piped up.
Detective Simpson turned his attention away from Kelsi and back to Cheyenne.
“Things haven’t been so peachy,” Cheyenne blurted honestly. She shook her head and wrung her hands together. “My brother is on the street selling drugs. Working for a dude that is my father’s known enemy. Kelsi basically has lived with us since we were kids because her mother is on crack and used to really abuse her, which she still struggles with. I just left for college, and there was a bunch of craziness going on right before I left. I just don’t know if any of it is related to something like—to... this,” Cheyenne rattled off, letting out all of their family secrets. She didn’t care whose feelings got hurt or who was offended. She would say anything that might help the detectives find out who killed her mother.
Kelsi sucked her teeth, and her nostrils flared, but she didn’t say a word to Cheyenne about the description of her life.
Detective Simpson sat quiet for a few minutes. His eyes had questions, so Cheyenne knew more were coming.
“So, you’ve been gone to medical school in Texas? Your brother is gone from home? Who was here? Just your parents?” he asked, his forehead creased.
“And her,” Cheyenne said, tilting her head toward Kelsi. “My best friend who, like I said, has been basically living with my family since we were kids,” Cheyenne said, looking over at Kelsi now.
Kelsi stopped swinging her legs in and out. She’d had enough of Cheyenne speaking about her like she wasn’t even in the room.
“Excuse me. I need to use the bathroom,” Kelsi said as she jumped up from the love seat like she had springs on her butt. She rushed to the back of the apartment and slammed the bathroom door.
“I guess she’s emotional, huh?” Detective Simpson asked. “Pretty hard losing someone close to you, blood related or not.”
Cheyenne shook her head in the affirmative. “To give you some clarification on the type of person my mother was—she took care of Kelsi like she was her own child. How many women can you say would do that? There is no one I could think of, for any reason in the world, that would just shoot my mother down like a hunted animal,” she told him. “There is not one soul I could think of that would ever hurt my mother. When you get to know her, you’ll see what I mean, detective,” Cheyenne said through sobs. She laid her head back on her father’s shoulder.
Detective Simpson took a deep breath and bit down into his jaw. He looked at the other detective, who stopped writing at that point and looked up and around like he’d been lost in his notepad.
“Cheyenne, I usually don’t make promises when it comes to my cases, but I’m making the exception for you. I promise you I will find your mother’s killer, and when I do, I will make sure that person never sees the light of day again,” Detective Simpson told Cheyenne with feeling. “Oh, and I’ll start with speaking to each family member separately. Including Kelsi,” Detective Simpson said, shooting her father a squinty-eyed look.
Then the detective stood up. “I’ll be at the station tomorrow. Why don’t you all come down and we can get started?”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it. Everybody will speak to you willingly,” Cheyenne replied, looking at her father for confirmation. He opened his hands and nodded slightly.
“Trust me, my mother didn’t deserve to die like that,” Cheyenne continued through tears. She stood up and shook Detective Simpson’s hand. She looked in his eyes, and she saw a sincerity she had never seen from anyone other than her mother. Cheyenne knew then that he was going to solve the case.
Chapter 4
Cheyenne
Being home from medical school sent Cheyenne into a deep depression. She’d barely eaten, and talking was out of the question. Lil Kev had come home only twice since she’d been back in Brooklyn, a fact that disturbed Cheyenne. He hadn’t said much to anyone, and she hadn’t seen him shed a tear for their mother. Cheyenne knew her brother had grown more selfish as he got older, but she never expected it to be like this. He had to be the angriest young person she knew on the planet.
On the first full day at home, Cheyenne forced herself to get out of bed after a sleepless night. She padded into the kitchen. Everything there reminded her of her mother. The cow-spot patterned dish towels and potholders hanging neatly from little pegs above the sink had been her mother’s quirky joke one time after they drove cross country on college tours for Cheyenne. The gleaming silver dish rack had been her mother’s prized kitchen accessory, because when her mother was growing up, all her family could afford were the cheap, plastic ones that quickly grew mold. Everything in the house had a lighthearted explanation for being there. That was how fun her mother was.
Cheyenne swallowed hard and stood in front of the refrigerator. She yanked open the freezer to get ice for her glass, and there it was. Cheyenne sucked in her breath. The glass slid from her hand and shattered into pieces as it hit the tile floor. Cheyenne reached out and touched the frozen cake top, and as if she had