Loving Khyree (That Zaddy Collection Book #1)

Prologue

20 years ago...

Adrianna Simmons:

"I don't think he did it on purpose." We looked in the room, he sat there staring at the grey table top. The cuffs, keeping him in the seat. His legs shaking uncontrollably, hands twisting around each other in nervousness.

"And how can you prove that Simmons? He won't even talk." Detective Montgomery looked at the kid.

"He's scared, when I got there all he's doing is crying and yelling 'I'm sorry'. He didn't do it on purpose. The mother ain't shit neither. She's putting the blame on him too." I stressed, I had that gut feeling, that this story wasn't making any sense.

"Simmons, he beat his mother to damn near death. She said it herself, you seen the bruises she has. Look how big he is for 13 and he's not denying it neither."

"I know something isn't right. I think he was trying to protect his mother." I said again, it hurt to put the cuffs on a crying and scared child. I had to let my partner Clarence do it. I saw the fear in his eyes, he was almost as tall as me for his 13. So I could see why they would believed that he would beat his mom who was almost as small as me. But I had a feeling that this was not how it went.

"What about the body?" Montgomery asked.

"I dunno...I just got that feeling detective. I know he didn't do it and he's hiding something. He's not gonna talk cuz he's scared as shit. You guys are treating him like a grown man." It didn't matter about his size and at the moment it didn't matter about the act. He's still a child. Just turned thirteen at that.

When my unit was dispatched in the area for shots that was fired, me and Clarence just figured it was normal. The neighborhood was already a problematic one. The dope boys, the prostitution, the drug addicts. What we weren't expecting was a 13 year old holding a .357 Magnum, scared as shit. His mom, bloody and beaten over a dead body crying and screaming hysterically.

I calmed him down enough to put the gun down. It wasn't easy with his mom screaming in the background, that he did it. I saw the hurt that crept in his eyes, at her screaming at him. The longing look he had as he looked back at her when Clarence helped him in the squad car. He didn't even fight back or argue. The realization that his mom was not fighting for him, began settling in.

"Look Simmons, you're going by what you feel. You know we go by evidence. His fingerprints are on the gun, he won't speak which makes him look guilty. Let the courts try him how they see fit." Detective Montgomery sighed.

"Can I at least talk to him?" I gotta at least try and get him to talk. Even if he did kill the guy, there had to be a justifiable reason.

"Simmons-"

"Please?" I begged, he was just a few years younger than my own son, Brayton. I cannot imagine how scared he must be. As a mother, it would kill me to have my son in this position. Somebody has to fight for him and if his poor excuse of a mother won't do it, I'm gonna do it. I see the regret and fear in his eyes. The need to be helped and cared for. He didn't do this intentionally, maybe as a defense went wrong. But he didn't do it on purpose. Another deep sigh escaped detective Montgomery's mouth.

"He's not talking. What is it with this kid that got you so worried about him? At this rate with him not saying a word, he's gonna land himself in prison for his whole life."

"Just...Let me talk to him...Please." I said looking inside the room. This time his head laid on top of the table on his arm. His fingers were curled in his hair, tugging the over grown mass.

"10 minutes and his public defender will be here for him. After that, he's going to a juvenile detention center, until his sentencing. At this rate with him not talking, I doubt he'll even get a trial."