Uncle Greyson? Do You Have Fried Bugs?

The middle-aged man raised his hands, showing the gloves on them. "Let's not shake hands. I'm Greyson. I'm only here to help."

Luke said, "Nice to meet you, Greyson. You happen to have the same name as someone I know."

Greyson turned his head. "Oh? Who's that?"

Luke replied casually, "Robert Greyson. He's… kind of my foster father."

Greyson's eyes glittered. "From Texas?"

Luke was surprised. "Do you know him?"

Greyson said calmly, "I think I do, if he's a guy from Shackelford."

Then, he looked at Luke with an inscrutable expression. "Luke Coulson? Eighteen years old? Also, if I remember correctly, you were at Westside Houston Police Department a few months ago, weren't you?"

Luke was stunned. "Huh? You are…"