Cooked Goose

shoulder. The titterer stepped forward, and Savannah recognized the outlandish orange and green spiked hair. It was the punked-out kid from her self-defense class.
    “Oh, hi, Margie,” she said, embarrassed that she had appeared so unprofessional in front of a student. “Sorry you overheard that. I don’t usually talk to law-enforcement officials like that, but I sorta hate that guy.”
    “Me too. What did he do to you?“
    “It’s a long story. What do you mean, you hate him, too? What did Captain Bloss do to you?”
    Probably had her arrested for drugs or shoplifting, Savannah thought, as she checked out the leather clothing, trimmed with metal studs and the pierced lip, cheek, nose and eyebrows. Then she reminded herself that not every kid who dressed like a weirdo was a criminal... just lacking in taste.
    “He left me and my mother for another woman,” the girl said, “when I was ten years old.”
    Savannah’s jaw dropped half way to her chest. “What? Bloss is your dad?”
    “Yeap. Sucks, huh?”
    Savannah shook her head, trying to rearrange her scrambled brain waves. “Wow! I didn’t even know he had a kid.” Margie laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in the sound. “That’s a scary thought, huh? A jerk like him procreating? My mom should’ve had him spayed on their honeymoon.” Savannah studied the teenager’s face. Her expression was belligerent, but, beneath all the exaggerated makeup, her eyes were full of sadness. “Not necessarily,” Savannah said. “You seem like a nice kid.”
    “Naw, I’m a brat. Ask anybody who knows me.”
    While they had been talking, Bloss had made his rounds and returned with Officer Titus Dunn in tow. Bloss fixed his daughter with one of his classic glares which was, undoubtedly, intended to instill fear and intimidation. Margie glared back, the picture of adolescent rebellion.
    “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked her.
    “You need to hire somebody to write you some new lines,” Savannah muttered, recalling his earlier greeting to her.
    Titus started to grin, but swallowed the smile when Bloss shot him a warning glance.
    “I was looking for you ,” Margie told her father, her demeanor as bristly as her hair.
    “How did you know I’d be here?” he snapped.
    “I was in the kitchen when you took the call. I heard you say where you were going, so later, I decided to—”
    “What do you want?”
    “Money,” his daughter returned, her tone turning as curt and hostile as his.
    “Why?”
    “Does it matter?”
    “Hell, yes, it matters.”
    She sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward. “I’m going out with Meg, okay?”
    “Where?”
    “Don’t know yet, but I need some cash.”
    “No.”
    Margie’s face flushed angrily. She stuck out her open hand, ramming it against her father’s chest. “Give me the fucking money!” she screamed. “No-o-o-ow!”
    Savannah glanced over at Titus, who was also watching the bizarre exchange with amazement. Neither of them dared to breathe.
    Having been raised Southern style, at the end of a hickory stick, Savannah couldn’t comprehend such blatant defiance.
    Bloss glowered at his daughter for what seemed like an eternity as his face turned as dark as hers. He was huffing and puffing like a disgruntled bulldog, his meaty fists clinched at his sides.
    But the girl didn’t budge.
    Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “There!” He tossed a handful of bills at her. “Now get out of here, and stay with your friends. Don’t go anywhere alone.”
    Margie gave him a sarcastic, self-satisfied smirk and walked away, clutching her cash to her chest.
    “When are you coming home?” he called after her.
    “When I get damned good and ready,” she yelled back as she climbed into the driver’s seat of a new, ice-blue, BMW convertible nearby.
    The Roadster took off, spinning its wheels in the roadside gravel. Savannah cleared her throat and shook her head thoughtfully as they watched the car disappear around a curve. “Well, well...” she said, “...darned kids these days. Sometimes, they just won’t do ya proud.”

CHAPTER SIX

    December 11, 12:30 a.m.

    I f Savannah and Dirk had been concerned about the latest rape victim’s security, all their worries evaporated when they saw Officer Morton O’Leary stationed outside her hospital room. King Kong himself couldn’t have charged through that door, even with Godzilla as a backup.
    When Savannah and Dirk passed through,