Robin Ayele...murder has hit African American books!

watching the building manager run a wrinkled pale hand over the sparse red tufts of hair on his head and sigh. He inched closer to the apartment door. He reached in his pants pockets and pulled out a large round steel ring filled with rusty keys. He held it up to the dim light and selected one of the keys. He slipped it into the door lock with visibly trembling hands, and Cole wasn't sure if it was from advanced age or the liquor he smelled on Mr. Cramer's breath. The lock clicked, and Cole and Snick moved into position in front of the door. They drew their weapons as Mr. Cramer slowly backed away.

     "Can I-I-I-I go now?" the building manager asked, gazing at Cole with pleading eyes.

     "Yes, you can leave, Mr. Cramer. We've got it from here," Snick said as the manager took off down the hallway at top speed.

     Cole pushed the door open with the butt of his gun. It creaked loudly, resembling a scream. Cole said his prayers as he always did before entering a potentially dangerous situation. He needed the man upstairs watching out for him.

     "Partner, I got a bad feeling that something is not right up in here. For one, the manager said this apartment number is thirteen," Snick said. Cole didn't believe in all that hocus pocus shit but he agreed something felt wrong.

     "Police! Anybody in here?" Cole shouted before stepping over the threshold and through the dark foyer. His heart pounded furiously in his chest as he quickly checked out his surroundings, taking note of the two-legged black wood table leaning against the wall. A pile of unopened mail littered the cheap linoleum floor. Had Joy stooped to such a low level, living in a dump like this?

     Cole and Snick made their way through the living room with guns pointed. It was freezing cold, and Cole quickly realized why. Pale pink curtains tossed wildly at the open window. Cole scanned the rest of the room, his ragged breath coming out in short white puffs as he noticed a rag doll lying on the carpeted floor. As he drew closer, he realized that it wasn't a toy after all. It was a very dead cat. Its light brown fur was caked with blood, and its sightless bulging eyes resembled two shiny black marbles. A telephone cord was wrapped tightly around its small neck.

     "I'll check out the back rooms," Snick said quietly, heading toward the back of the apartment.

     Cole followed a strong rancid smell to the kitchen and immediately found the source. On the

stained cheap countertop was a piece of unidentifiable meet teeming with fat black cockroaches. Morbidly fascinated, he slowly approached the counter as shots rang out from

another part of the apartment. Cole ran from the kitchen in the direction Snick had gone. Cole's chest tightened and his breathing constricted.

     "Snick," he called out.

     There was no response.

     He thought about the two most important people in his life-his wife and daughter. He had planned on sticking around for them. He had to protect and provide for them. He couldn't go out now. Not like this.

     "Snick!" he called out again, but he still didn't get an answer. He reached the back of the apartment and faced a room. A man lay slumped across the threshold, his eyes vacant and black and his jaw ajar. Cole stepped over the man and noticed a woman who also appeared to be decreased sprawled  across a king-size bed. Her shapely legs were streaked with blood and dangled over the side. He walked closer and noticed that she had been shot in the head and had been beaten to the point that her face was beyond recognition. He wondered if it was Joy. He had a strange feeling it was her.

     He left the room and went into a second room but Snick was nowhere in sight. He pulled open the closed door to the third room and immediately saw Snick lying on the floor,blood gushing from a chest wound.

     "Damn, Snick," Cole muttered as he rushed over to his partner and called on the radio for help.

     "Ten-thirty-three, 10-33, officer down. Send additional units to  1417 Half Street SW, Apartment 13."

     He dropped to his knees and leaned over Snick. His partner's eyes were closed, and Cole's mind raced as hairs rose on the back of his neck and he whipped around. His cousin Autumn Fields stood in the middle of the floor scantily clothed in a hot pink bra and a thong. Wearing a gotcha grin, she aimed a rifle at him with perfect aim, as she had done in previous killings.

     "You didn't think I'd let you and Joy off the hook that easily, did you? No, I'm gonna get two for one this time," Autumn said, laughing.

      "You're supposed to be dead. You hung yourself in that prison after getting caught with the murders," he said slowly.

      "Don't believe the hype. I'm very much alive and ready for fresh blood, so I'll start with you," she said, cocking the gun as another woman came from behind Autumn. The woman had a gun, too, and pointed it at him.

       "Noooooo!" Cole shouted, raising his hands in front of his face as Autumn and the woman pulled their triggers and the guns exploded in slow  motion...