I'm blessed to be in my First Anthology with some Amazing and Talented Authors slated for July 2016 release. Here is an excerpt from my short story:
The Good Boy
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When two police officers showed up at your door at midnight, it could only mean one thing. Bad news. April Lawson shook her head and stepped back from her opened door. “What happened to my son?”
The two officers looked at each other.
“Can we come in?” one asked.
Her knees felt like butter. “What happened to my son?” she asked again.
“We really should talk about this inside,” the other officer said.
With a shaky nod, she moved her ample frame out of the way for the men to enter her two-bedroom home. April turned on the interior light. Spotting the trashy novel she had been reading before falling asleep on the couch, she rushed over and flipped it upside down, then gestured for the officers to sit.
“Are you alone?” one asked.
April looked into his blue eyes and nodded. “I was waiting up for Kenny.” She clutched her chest. “Is he all right?”
The officer broke eye contact. His partner spoke up.
“I’m Officer Stachs and this is Officer Brown.” Stachs pointed at the man beside him. April nodded at the lean man and his stocky partner.
“Is Kenneth Lawson your son?” Officer Brown asked.
“Yes,” she breathed out, gasping for air. This can’t be happening. She couldn’t possibly be having this conversation with the men in green. Kenneth was handsome, a straight-A student. Football captain. Dating a cheerleader. The walking cliché of the good son.
“Kenneth was shot three times at a party,” Officer Brown said.
She bowled over at the words. Her stomach cramped and she dry heaved. “Is he... Is he alive?” April put a fist into her mouth and struggled to breath. She rocked back and forth. Never did she think she would be asking that question. Kenneth was eighteen. He had made it all the way through his senior year without incident. His graduation was in two weeks. He’d been out at a senior party.
Officer Stachs joined her on the couch. “Ma’am, I’m sorry to tell you Kenneth didn’t make it.”
A hand touched her back. She flinched. “Don’t touch me,” she said through gritted teeth. Venom filled her tone. “Which one of you shot him? Which one of you shot my son?”
Both officers shook their head. “We didn’t shoot him.”
April wiped her face with her hands. She ignored the handkerchief Officer Brown extended toward her.
“Your son died a hero,” Stachs said.
April’s breath caught. “Wh … What?”
“He died saving someone else,” Brown said.
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