If anyone would be sympathetic about why Jamal would want to run…it would be Quincy.

After the cops went to arrest Jackson Ridges for the Davidsons’ murder, there was a lot of talk about whether the cops had to kill him. They went in like they had no other option. I saw the way they approached our house with Jamal, with Daddy; it didn’t need to be like that. They didn’t have to kill Mr. Ridges.

My throat tightens, thinking about that time. The news coverage, the rallies. The things people said at school. Everyone in town talked about the shooting. The white community was quick to blame Daddy and Jackson for the Davidsons’ murders.

At school, kids were cruel. Recess was Justin Draper’s favorite time to corner me. Back then he was a pudgy white kid with a mullet. He’s outgrown the mullet now but still has the same jackass attitude and thick, square head. I used to find excuses to help the teachers so I wouldn’t have to go outside, but it didn’t always work. The trial was public, and everyone was talking about it. We got death threats at home, so Mama thought school was the safest place for us.

One day Justin circled me, calling me the N-word. He’d never get away with that if Quincy wasn’t still healing. If Quincy would’ve been there, he’d have handled it. Justin yelled at me and punched me in the stomach. I was down on the ground, my heart hurting more than anything else, and Dean came running at Justin like a linebacker. A fight broke out. That was the incident that pulled Dean and me closer with each day of Quincy’s absence. Quincy and I’ve been distant ever since the shooting. Jamal was able to hold on to him, but my path went elsewhere. I feel our old history in this call. Knowing he’d be the only one to get what this means, but also knowing we aren’t close no more.

When I turn around, Mama’s shaking. She can’t reach anyone who’s seen Jamal, either.

“How did Angela die?” I ask Beverly.

“Autopsy won’t be in yet, but it looks like a blunt force trauma to the head. She was found out on the Pike by the dried-up dock, near the old seafood-packing place.”

“The call doesn’t mean anything,” I say. “She could’ve been asking for help. That doesn’t prove Jamal was there.”

“He was there tonight. And…” Beverly pauses.

“And what?”

“I shouldn’t say. It might not be public.”

“Beverly, you know Jamal—could you see him do anything like this? You’ve seen him at his worst. Nothing riles him up. He’s never hurt me, even when I’d pick fights with him.”

“Jamal was seen fleeing the scene…and his letterman jacket was found by her body.”