At that, their grandfather had wakened and shuffled into the kitchen, his big paunch protruding like that of a pregnant woman. “What are you two tied up in?” Sidney Clairmont demanded. “It’s them church burnings, ain’t it?” Hattie Cruz spouted as she doused Jennifer’s forehead with hydrogen peroxide. “Reminded me of the old days.” “Except for the bodies!” Clairmont boomed. “Whatsa matter with you two? You don’t kill somebody first thing! You leave a warning, then you burn a cross. You make sure they know the KKK acted, but they can’t narrow down who done it.” “We ain’t like you, Granddaddy,” Cruz said. “We ain’t the KKK. We have different ways.” “Use the ways that work, fool!” he bellowed. “That way you don’t get shot at and chased and put in jail before you have a chance to make a difference.” “They know how to do it,” Hattie said. “Daddy, they was raised with this. They been follerin’ you since they was knee-high to a grasshopper.”
