Chapter 19

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The feeble breeze that blew about the block had little effect on the mid-afternoon heat.

People were out and about, mingling with friends from the neighborhood.

When the FBI swerved before the curb of South Howard Street, nobody expected them to converge upon Geraldine Parson's home.

An ice cream truck was parked at the curb, four doors down from her house.

A group of neighbors began to gravitate closer for a better view.

After the display of violence that had been shown during the bank heist, none of the agents were taking any chances.

The men that they were hunting were considered to be armed and extremely dangerous.

Every location posed a potential threat.

Special Agent Anthony Price and his partner Carl Wainwright lead the way to Geraldine Parsons' doorstep.

Several agents dressed in tactical gear began to surround the house, awaiting a cue to shoot.

Agent Price gave a sharp rap against the door with his knuckle.

After a brief beat, he knocked again.

"What the hell is your malfunction, beating on my door like you're crazy?"

Geraldine Parsons spat, as she opened the door.

Her hostile gaze did not waiver.

She had the look of someone who was about to issue out a few complimentary ass-whippings.

Both agents had to pause.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, ma'am... But we have a search warrant to search the premises." Agent Price stated, his gaze scanning the interior of the house beyond her shoulder.

There was no sign of anyone else in the residence, but they had to be certain.

They each had their hand hovering above their weapon.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"Are there any other occupants inside of the home?"

"No. There is no one here, except me," she replied, accepting the proffered warrant that Agent Price passed to her as he and his partner stepped through the threshold.

Five other agents followed them inside and began clearing the rooms.

Her expression was hostile, but her demeanor remained cordial.

She was an elderly black woman accustomed to having to confront Atlanta lawmen...

She knew that contesting them was futile.

"What is this about?" She asked, with a crinkled brow.

"We're investigating Johnny Parsons, and his juvenile records reflect that this was his last known address." the agent stated.

Geraldine Parsons blanched with outrage.

"Why can't you people leave that boy alone," she huffed, clutching her purse to her buxom.

"He hasn't been home for a full month yet, and already you're here trying to find a way to throw him back in a damn cage."

"Ma'am, we have reason to believe that your grandson was involved in a bank robbery this morning; and we're trying to locate whoever may have been his accomplice."

Geraldine Parsons began to blink her eyes, to process the words that had been spoken.

Intuition whispered trepidation into her heart as she began to ponder over the discussion that she had just had with her daughter.

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