Mr. Evans doesn’t answer. I’m shocked. Why is this the first I’m hearing about it? All this time we’ve been looking at Daddy’s case all wrong. There could be more around Mr. Davidson choosing to do business with a Black man.

“Who could be involved?” Dean asks his dad.

“I don’t know.” Mr. Evans looks off in the distance. I think he’s avoiding eye contact, but then I hear the whirring sound of a fire truck and police cars.

With the sirens in the background, I rush to the house for the brick that broke the glass.

Dean follows. “Should you be touching that?”

“If we don’t read it, there’s no promise it’ll be shared with us,” I say.

I carefully pull off the rubber band with a napkin, brushing away any lingering glass, and read the note. Swallow hard as I take it in. The note flutters in my hand, and I almost drop it before Steve urges me to read it.

I bite the inside of my cheek, steady my shaky hands, then read it out loud.

NO MORE WHITE LIVES LOST AT THE HANDS OF A BEAUMONT. NEXT TIME IT’LL BE A BODY WE BURN.

—THE BROTHERHOOD

UNTHINKABLE

The world feels upside down, like I’ve been dropped—then left broken. Nevertheless, I need to flip that switch in my brain so I can believe these police officers are here to help.

I wish I could trust them automatically, but I can’t. History has a way of latching on to you. Like touching a hot stove—you only need to do it once before you know better.

When the police arrive, Mama waits by the door. Shaking. I meet her, wrapping my arms around her waist. I know she’s doing the same as me—putting her armor back on. I gaze up at her, then quickly look away. It hurts to see her forcing herself to be strong. Especially when Mrs. Evans was allowed to fall apart. Allowed to be human.

When I’m ready, I force myself to study Mama, because I need to learn that strength so I can pass it down, like a family recipe. An heirloom. A curse.

The officers walk toward us, black smoke and kindles of fire crackling behind them. Officer Clyde takes off his hat. I haven’t heard from him since my call earlier. He’s joined by two more officers and the firefighter crew. Beverly stands off to the side, her eyes huge. She pulls herself together and joins us. Relief pours through me.

“Ma’am,” Officer Clyde says with a sullen demeanor before he shakes Mama’s hand and introduces himself again.

“Officer Clyde.” Mama pauses. “Beverly.”

Bev’s face doesn’t show an immediate expression, but there’s a dazed look in her eye when she turns to the cross.