Would this make a good opening for a novel?

Walking across the cotton field was much easier once the crop had been harvested, but Steven Vernicke still stumbled over the furrows as he stared at the red and blue flashing lights of the emergency vehicles parked in front of his family’s gas station.

Steven had walked across the field many times, but he was a little distracted. The sun was fading and he still had about a hundred yards to cover. He could see that the station was buzzin'. It seemed like every cop car, ambulance and fire truck in Harnek County was bumper-to-bumper, fender-to-fender, piled up right there in the parking lot.

As Steven got closer to the scene he could tell that Silver was dead because they had her on a gurney with the sheet pulled up over her face. Then he saw the heavy boots sticking out at the bottom and he knew it couldn’t be his grandmother. Her boots were brown.

"Get out of here, kid," he heard one cop yell as he tucked tail and scooted in through one of the service bays.

“…Son-of-a-bitch tried to steel a turquoise bracelet,” he heard his grandmother saying as he squeezed past a deputy with a camera.

His grandmother gave him a quick hug that told him, "Shut up, I'm fine," and "it's good to see you Little Steve" all at the same time.

There was a large pool of blood on the floor and you had to watch your step. Steven was starting to circle the room when the deputy who had tried to snag him in the parking lot caught up. As the deputy reached for Steven's shirt, Silver spoke up, "Dammit Earl, don't you even recognize my own flesh n' blood?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Silver," he stammered. Then to regain his authority, "but this is a crime scene and we need to protect the evidence."

"Don't be so officious," she scolded. "Or I'll tell your mother that you were being rude to a senior citizen." Everyone in the room chuckled, not because the man was being chastised, but because nobody in Harnek County ever thought of Silver as a little old lady.