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I'm not saying a guy could actually do this. But if he could, it'd be a damn nifty way to get back at the town he blames for murdering his grandson.' |
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'I know it sounds weird, Mom. But what if he is doing it? You know? And what if there's a way to make him stop? Maybe the rain'll end.' |
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'Did the grandfather live with the family?' Trev asked. |
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'Yeah. He had his own room in their house.' |
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Trev knew that he'd seen the address on reports. Fairmont Avenue, but he couldn't recall the house number. |
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Near the north end of town, and he was heading south. |
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'Do you know the address?' he asked. |
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'Our house is that way,' Francine protested. |
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'First things first,' Trev said. His headbeams swept past the tattered body of a man bound to a lamp post. Like Chidi tied to the goalpost standard. This guy was black, but hadn't been born that way. And hadn't been burnt. He had a gaping pit below his ribcage. |
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'Damn it! It's a waste of time, and you'll get us all killed.' |
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'Maybe I can end the whole mess.' |
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It might be too late for Maureen, he thought. |
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But if Chidi's grandfather was responsible, and if |
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