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interjected. Marcus was surprised. Of the two brothers, Duane was the passive one, usually content to go with the flow.
    â€œWhy do you say that?” Marcus turned and peered curiously at Duane.
    â€œI think you or someone in the family should make an appeal to the people of Chicago and ask for anyone who has any information to step forward. You could even offer a reward. Why don’t you talk to the Fraternal Order of Police about it?” Duane suggested. He worked as a network analyst at Kennedy King College, which wasn’t located too far from the hospital. He and Monet often had lunch together. Derek worked as a manager for a clothing store.
    Marcus rubbed the stubble on his chin. “The hospital is offering a reward. I’ll have Wade talk to the union and see if we can up the ante,” he said.
    â€œYou need to stop thinking like a policeman and think like a husband!” Duane shouted. “How do we know the person who did this to my sister wasn’t some crazy that you helped put away?”
    Marcus felt like he’d taken a hit to the gut. That same thought had been haunting him all morning. “Don’t you think I’ve thought of that myself?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s tearing me apart to see Monet lying in the hospital bed beaten and battered. I’m doing the best I can to help the police and be there for my wife. Try to keep those types of comments to a minimum, please.” There was a hint of a tremble in Marcus’s voice.
    Duane realized his brother-in-law was holding on to his emotions by a tenacious thread. He walked over to Marcus and patted his arm. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to come off sounding so harsh. You’re Monet’s husband and a police officer, and I know that you’ll do anything to find who did this terrible thing to our sister and bring him to justice,” he said apologetically.
    The brothers were identical twins. They shared the same light complexion as their sister and had hazel colored eyes, courtesy of their father, who was of Creole lineage from New Orleans. They were average in height, five feet ten inches, and that’s where the resemblance ended. Derek was muscular in build, with heavy facial hair covering his face, and he favored hip hop clothing. Derek was slim like Monet, clean shaven, and was more conservative in dress. Derek wore his curly hair clipped low on the top and sides and slightly longer in the back, while Duane made sure he went to the barbershop every Saturday to keep his waves immaculate. The brothers refused to settle down and marry, much to Monet’s consternation. She said the family wasn’t procreating, and that her brothers needed to remedy the situation.
    Derek nodded at his brother’s rant appreciatively. “Who would have thought little brother had it in him? That’s usually my role. But we’re all family, and we’ve got to stick together, and make sure big sister comes through this ordeal in one piece. Marc, we got your back, and we’ll go by all the decisions you make,” he said.
    â€œI agree,” Duane said quickly. “But if Derek and I have suggestions, I hope you’ll at least listen to us.”
    â€œDefinitely, and I promise to keep you in the loop about the investigation,” Marcus said. “I’m heading home to shower and change clothes and bring some stuff back to the hospital for Monet. I’ll see you later.”
    â€œDuane looked at his brother, and said, “What do you say about us getting some flowers for Monet? You know how she loves plants; maybe that will cheer her up.”
    â€œGood thinking, bro, I second that motion,” Derek replied. “We’ll go to a florist, and then come back here. There’s one not too far from here. The flowers here at the hospital are too expensive.”
    â€œMonet is probably still asleep anyway. By the time you get back, she