Atlanta X-Men Homicide Squad #3.5
"This is a very intriguing book. I really like that a group of Homicide Detectives call themselves the X-Men. The question is can they all be trusted on the case they are pursuing. I highly recommend this for anyone that likes mystery because it will have your head sin at the end. Once you are done you will still be thinking about this story..."
"This story goes fast. I am not really sure what to say about this really good story. Rich and highly successful people are be killed by a mysterious group of men. A group of Homicide detectives that call themselves the X-Men are on the case and trying to find the killers. This is one of the few books i have ever read where the ending was a total surprise."
"This is the first book I have read by Cortez Law III and I absolutely loved it! The author writes such fabulous descriptions that you can see the story in your mind, fully engaging your interest from the start. The members of the X-Men Squad, Malcolm, Pepper, Orlando, Shepard, and Selena are all well described and great characters. The storyline is excellent and very well written. To have so much detail in a short story shows true mastery of the written word. I would love to read more from this author..."
2700 Macon Drive
Southeast Atlanta, GA
Despite being gagged, the man screamed. It was a futile effort. He squirmed about with the overhead lights reflecting on the metal silver gurney. His arms and legs were leather strapped with big shiny steel buckles. The white male looked sixty-something with his short-cropped black hair mopped with sweat. His entire body resembled his hair. He continued to lick his trembling lips more in a nervous action than to dab any much-needed moisture for them. His brown eyes, wild with terror, attempted to defy the added strap that crossed over his forehead. Everything in his sight blurred. He continued blinking and stretching of his eyes.
Footsteps echoed in the semi-lit room. Gray cement block walls about ten feet high surrounded the scared man. At the head of the gurney, on both sides, and the foot of the table, four men stood stationary. The man at the head of the table studied the near hyperventilating man. The figures remained blurry.
“Randall Mark Joseph. Age sixty-seven, a native Georgian, birthplace Augusta, GA. Son of parents Reiss and Annabelle Joseph. Grandson of Robert and Lewellen Joseph. All four deceased. Doesn’t have to be your fate, Randall. We won’t keep you long. We only need one thing from you—” His right index finger shook in the air just above his nose and remained there. “One. Financial access to your bank accounts and investments.” The man removed the gag.
“That’s all you want?”
“Yes. But before you ask questions…”
Another indistinct shape appeared and wheeled a second gurney that ceased movement to the bound man’s left. He strained to glimpse, but his head fasteners restricted any movement.
He about convulsed at the sound.
“Margaret? Margaret, is that you?”
“Oh, Randall! I can’t see too well. Are you here?”
“Right here. I’m right here, Margaret. I can’t see you either. Did they hurt you?”
A latex-gloved hand from the man at his head smothered Randall’s mouth to silence.
“No one has to get hurt. If you don’t comply with this one request that will change. For her. Is anything you’ve heard unclear, Randall?”
His breathing quickened but his head nodded in compliance.
“Don’t hurt my wife–”
That gloved hand silenced Randall once more.
“Good. Good. The effects of the drug will diminish and I have a series of phone calls I need for you to make. This is all so easy. Let’s keep it that way, okay?”
“Okay. Just please, she has nothing–”
This time, however, the gloved hand slammed over his lips with such force he shrieked, and Margaret joined him. The wheelman for her eased his latex-gloved hand over her mouth and muzzled her with head shaking for ‘no.’