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| Photo Generated by Grok |
The knock came just before first light, sharp and official, the kind that doesn’t wait for an invitation.
Three Arkansas State Police cruisers had eased down the gravel road with their lights off, and half way turned their engines off.
They moved on foot the rest of the way—shotguns slung low, vests heavy under dark jackets.
Ray answered the door in the same clothes from the day before, sleep crust in the corner of his eyes.
Ray: “What the—”
Arkansas State Police: “Hands where we can see ’em,” “We’re looking for Leon. Where is he?”
Ray’s opened his mouth but nothing came out. He didn’t have to answer. Two troopers pushed past him, clearing rooms with quick flashlight sweeps.
The third officer stayed with Ray, cuffing him to the porch rail “for officer safety.” Ray didn’t resist. He just kept saying.
Ray: “He’s my buddy, man. I didn’t know…”
They found Leon in the back bedroom.
He had wedged himself halfway under a twin bed, shoulders and head visible, legs stretched toward the open window like he was planning a crawl-and-drop escape to be one step ahead of the police whenever they arrived.
His gym bag—still stacked with the remaining cash—was shoved against the wall beside him.
The bloody work shirt was gone; he burned it in a barrel out back the night before.
They dragged him out by the ankles. He didn’t resist or fight much—just went limp, letting them flip him onto his stomach, knees in his back, wrists zip-tied.
Dust and old carpet fibers clung to his face. His eyes were wide, but not scared. More like what the hell did I do to get this treatment.
They sat him on the edge of the bed while one trooper read him his rights. Another held a recorder close. The room smelled of stale beer and sweaty socks.
Detective Jones: “Why’d you do it?” “Why Melissa?”
Leon looked up, slow blink with a smirk on his face.
Leon: “I didn’t like that bitch.”
The words hung there, plain and ugly. Just that. Five words.
Detective Jones stared at him. Then he nodded once.
Detective Jones: “Get him in the car.”
They walked Leon out past Ray, who was still cuffed to the rail, staring like he’d never seen the man before.
Leon didn’t look at his old buddy. Didn’t say goodbye. Just kept his head down as they folded him into the back of the cruiser.
The convoy rolled out as the sun was rising, painting one side of the pine trees gold and turning the gravel road the color of dried mud.
Somewhere back in Louisiana, the hotel lobby lights were still shining bright, waiting for the next shift to arrive and pretend nothing had changed.
But everything had.
To be continued…