How long ago?

 He kept trying to work it out through the fog of his mind.

But they were nowhere to be found.

 Abruptly, booted footfalls bursted through the quiet.

"Quit crying like a pussy," the man demanded, hefting a gun from his jacket pocket and raising it to the boy's temple, and fired a single bullet. “Die like a man.”

 Even in the months he’d spent with Newport Police Department thus far, Detective Stephen Bennett knew it. He’d first gotten to know the kid when Robert, having hot-wired his father’s car, took a joyride with some friends. En route to the beach, the teenager hit the breaks too late and ran straight into the back of navy blue truck.

Car doors flew open and Robert’s friends hightailed it, leaving the young man to deal with the consequences—Bennett talking with his parents and arranging for him to work to pay off the damages to both cars—alone.

It took only a moment for Bennett to figure it out.

 Prior to his adoption, Robert was the product of a selfish father and a self-center and dead mother. And, from what he’d found on her, the woman's excessive drug habits and spoiled lifestyle had gotten her that way.
Robert's late grandmother was the sole biological family member who had truly cared for him.

“I know where he is,” Bennett reassured before thanking the teacher for his call, hanging up, and sprinting out of the department building.

 Try as he might, he couldn’t remember her last name. Hustled through the grass and tombstones, he found the small house on the grounds. Once there, Bennett pounded on the front door.
It groaned open. Gun ready, he eased inside; the floor creaking under his weight. 
Among the noise, a loud squish resonated.
He looked down. Blood.
Bennett followed the trail across the room.

 “Easy,” Bennett ordered, composed despite the firearm now in his face. “Put the gun down.”

 “Kids should listen to their parents,” the gunman muttered in a rehearsed drone. “I told him…I told him to come with me. He wanted to go back to those people. He called them his family…I’m his family!”

 Quick as a flash, the assailant bent his arm and held the gun to his own head.

 “No!” Bennett cried.

But it was too late.

He watched, horrified, as Robert’s father pulled the trigger.

A writer and lover of books since the age of nine, Max first set pen to page as a hobby, constructing stories that were anything but fit for children. entertaining classmates while simultaneously concerning surrounding adults with blood-ridden tales of gory mysteries and heavy suspense that "just came to mind", max, with the help of family and the encouraging words of an inspiring fifth grade teacher, continued to develop this gift. 

Little was it known at the time, but said gift would become a lifeline. 

From horrific trauma  in max's teen years, writing played an instrumental part in the difficult recovery and the  Warrens, Bennetts, and Johnsons, three interconnected families all with issues, mysteries, and secrets that threaten their livelihood and lives,were born. Their stories, August to life and The bleeding, were published in 2012 and 2013 respectively. 

One minute there, the third installment, was released march 20, 2015 while the fourth is Black cradle.

Though relatively new to the publishing game, Max relishes the journey and learns something new each day.