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abandoned building, deep in the hood, far away from the apartment Terrie's father had rented for them out in Westchester.
Little Arielle was all busted up. Raped. Strangled. Brutalized. The public was on edge. A baby killer was officially on the loose, and the media yeasted the fear factor up as high as they could get it. The next few days dragged by. Front doors were double-bolted all over Brooklyn, and little kids slept under the watchful eyes of their protective parents.
But I gotta give it to the NYPD. They knew their shit, and forensics is a bad motherfucker. They ran some tests, put together a list of suspects, and the next thing I knew they came gunning for me like I was Osama bin Laden.
"You're under arrest for the murder of Terrie Mills, and the rape and murder of Arielle Mills!"
They bum-rushed me inside Mama's house, and you shoulda seen her face when they pushed past her and kicked down the bedroom door.
Rape? Murder? What the fuck?!