the grieving remained. Detective Rice knew it wasn’t a suicide. He figured it was too much of a coincidence that a friend of Mesha’s, Ayesha, was murdered in the same projects a few months earlier. The thing that both women had in common was, they were both friends of Apple.
Detective Rice was very familiar with Apple, having investigated her younger sister’s death almost a year earlier. The thought of the young girl being murdered and tossed into a city dumpster still haunted him. It was still an open case, but the lead went cold when J-Dogg, the main suspect, was gunned down in the Bronx.
Detective Rice continued to question everyone. He was determined to get to the bottom of everything. In his mind, everything was leading back to Apple. Still, he had no solid proof that she was behind the murders. He was aware that Apple had been a victim herself, with her sister’s murder, and by having acid thrown in her face. When it came to mentioning her name about any cases, folks in the neighborhood either went mute or had amnesia.
Detective Rice couldn’t understand how such a nice, lovely-looking young woman could become such a monster. Apple’s name was ringing out, and the department became keenly aware of her fierce reputation.
***
Clad in a long, dark blue robe, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, Apple lay in bed staring at the television. She noticed her old neighborhood in the backdrop as the pale, brown-haired field reporter talked on camera, surrounded by a small crowd. She quickly took it off mute to listen to the incident.
She smiled as the reporter talked about Mesha’s death. A chuckle escaped from her lips. “Fuck that bitch!” she uttered softly. One down and three to go .
Suddenly Apple was hit with a wave of uneasiness. She sighed heavily. She got up and walked over to the window. She peered outside into the dark tree-lined street outside her bedroom window. She had a creepy feeling that someone was watching her, like someone was standing outside her home at that very moment. Dante was the only person who knew of their location.
She closed her curtains and walked away from the window. The past few weeks had her somewhat paranoid. She hadn’t been outside since her arrival from the hospital, too ashamed to go anywhere. She looked over at the clear, plastic mask on the dresser next to her medication.
She thought about her failing loan-sharking business. She had made plenty of phone calls around Harlem, ready to get back into business, but business looked like an ugly trip up an icy hilltop. Some of her debtors had heard about the acid incident and thought it was a way out of their debts. They would hang up on her, and some even mocked her, feeling like she didn’t have the muscle to collect. The situation was driving her mad.
One of them had said to her, “Fuck you, bitch! You’re MIA.”
Another one told her, “I thought you were dead.”
She heard movement downstairs and decided to check it out. She placed the mask over her face, retrieved a .380 from the dresser, and exited the bedroom with caution. She descended the stairway and came across Chico and Dante, who were just arriving.
“Hey, baby,” Chico greeted.
“Hey.”
Dante looked over at Apple and gave her a cold stare. He didn’t want to stay too long because she made him uncomfortable. He was used to seeing Chico around beautiful women, and even though he knew about the attack, he was still surprised that Chico kept her around. He felt like she was a burden on his cousin. Chico had explained his reasons, but Dante wasn’t buying that she reminded him of Nikki. Nikki was a good girl, and she wasn’t.
“I’m not gonna stick around, cuzzo,” Dante said. “I got business to take care of.” And he made his exit.
Apple waited for him to leave and then said to Chico, “I don’t like him.”
“Why?”
“I hate the way he looks at me.”
“I mean, look at you. No disrespect, baby, but he ain’t used to seeing
Detective Rice was very familiar with Apple, having investigated her younger sister’s death almost a year earlier. The thought of the young girl being murdered and tossed into a city dumpster still haunted him. It was still an open case, but the lead went cold when J-Dogg, the main suspect, was gunned down in the Bronx.
Detective Rice continued to question everyone. He was determined to get to the bottom of everything. In his mind, everything was leading back to Apple. Still, he had no solid proof that she was behind the murders. He was aware that Apple had been a victim herself, with her sister’s murder, and by having acid thrown in her face. When it came to mentioning her name about any cases, folks in the neighborhood either went mute or had amnesia.
Detective Rice couldn’t understand how such a nice, lovely-looking young woman could become such a monster. Apple’s name was ringing out, and the department became keenly aware of her fierce reputation.
***
Clad in a long, dark blue robe, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, Apple lay in bed staring at the television. She noticed her old neighborhood in the backdrop as the pale, brown-haired field reporter talked on camera, surrounded by a small crowd. She quickly took it off mute to listen to the incident.
She smiled as the reporter talked about Mesha’s death. A chuckle escaped from her lips. “Fuck that bitch!” she uttered softly. One down and three to go .
Suddenly Apple was hit with a wave of uneasiness. She sighed heavily. She got up and walked over to the window. She peered outside into the dark tree-lined street outside her bedroom window. She had a creepy feeling that someone was watching her, like someone was standing outside her home at that very moment. Dante was the only person who knew of their location.
She closed her curtains and walked away from the window. The past few weeks had her somewhat paranoid. She hadn’t been outside since her arrival from the hospital, too ashamed to go anywhere. She looked over at the clear, plastic mask on the dresser next to her medication.
She thought about her failing loan-sharking business. She had made plenty of phone calls around Harlem, ready to get back into business, but business looked like an ugly trip up an icy hilltop. Some of her debtors had heard about the acid incident and thought it was a way out of their debts. They would hang up on her, and some even mocked her, feeling like she didn’t have the muscle to collect. The situation was driving her mad.
One of them had said to her, “Fuck you, bitch! You’re MIA.”
Another one told her, “I thought you were dead.”
She heard movement downstairs and decided to check it out. She placed the mask over her face, retrieved a .380 from the dresser, and exited the bedroom with caution. She descended the stairway and came across Chico and Dante, who were just arriving.
“Hey, baby,” Chico greeted.
“Hey.”
Dante looked over at Apple and gave her a cold stare. He didn’t want to stay too long because she made him uncomfortable. He was used to seeing Chico around beautiful women, and even though he knew about the attack, he was still surprised that Chico kept her around. He felt like she was a burden on his cousin. Chico had explained his reasons, but Dante wasn’t buying that she reminded him of Nikki. Nikki was a good girl, and she wasn’t.
“I’m not gonna stick around, cuzzo,” Dante said. “I got business to take care of.” And he made his exit.
Apple waited for him to leave and then said to Chico, “I don’t like him.”
“Why?”
“I hate the way he looks at me.”
“I mean, look at you. No disrespect, baby, but he ain’t used to seeing
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