Criminal

there’s anything good that came out of this, it’s our friendship.”
    Amanda had been fighting weepiness all night. She could only nod.
    Evelyn squeezed her hand before letting go. “I don’t have many friends. Any friends, really.”
    “I find that hard to believe.”
    “Oh, I used to have lots of them.” She twisted her fingers into her hair. “Bill and I would go to parties every weekend. Two or three. Sometimes four.” She let out a long sigh. “Everyone thought it was a gas when I joined the force, but then they saw I wasn’t going to quit and suddenly there was nothing we could talk about. I didn’t want to swap recipes or plan bake sales. They couldn’t understand why I would want to do a man’s job. You should hear my mother-in-law on the subject.” She laughed ruefully. “This job changes you. It changes how you think, how you see the world. I don’t care what the boys say. We are cops. We live it and breathe it as much as they do.”
    “You don’t see Butch and Landry out here right now.”
    “No, they’re probably home with their families.”
    Amanda doubted that. “Their mistresses, more likely.”
    “Hey, that’s him.” They saw Ulster locking the front door of the building. The darkness did him no favors. He was a hulking man. Amanda could not imagine anyone putting up much of a struggle against such raw power.
    He glanced up the street. Both Amanda and Evelyn ducked, but Ulster didn’t seem to notice the red station wagon, or if he did, he didn’t think much of it. In retrospect, the car—with its children’s toys in the back and crayons melted into the carpet—was the perfect cover.
    Amanda held her breath as she waited for Ulster to reappear. It felt like hours but was only minutes before Evelyn finally said, “Here he comes.”
    The green van turned onto Juniper. They stayed hunched down as it passed. Evelyn cranked the key. The engine sputtered, then caught. She pushed the knob to make sure the headlights were off, then swung the nose out into the street and smoothly entered the opposite lane.
    “You’re getting better at this,” Amanda said.
    “Last hurrah,” she muttered.
    There were no streetlights on Juniper. The moon was enough to drive by, and where she couldn’t see, Evelyn coasted her way through.
    Ulster took a left onto Piedmont Avenue. He drove deep into Bedford Pine. The stench of Buttermilk Bottom filled the car, but they kept the windows down.
    “Where is he going?” Evelyn asked.
    Amanda shook her head. She had no idea.
    The van braked at the last minute, taking a sharp turn onto Ralph McGill. Amanda directed, “Cut over to Courtland.”
    Evelyn had to reverse to make the turn. “Do you think he spotted us?”
    “I don’t know.” Their headlights were still off. The car’s interior was dark. “Maybe he’s just being careful.”
    “Why would he be careful?” Evelyn sucked in her breath. The green van was up ahead. “There he is.”
    They followed the van up Courtland. The road was a straight shot. Evelyn hung back at least a hundred yards. When the van turned onto Pine, the lights from Crawford Long Hospital illuminated the interior. They saw Ulster’s unmistakable frame. Evelyn slowed, peering down the street before making the turn to follow him. The lights from the expressway made the going more difficult. He turned onto Spring Street.
    “Evelyn,” Amanda said.
    “I know.” She followed him up North Avenue. Past the Varsity. Over the expressway. He was going to Techwood. “Get my radio.”
    Amanda found Evelyn’s purse on the back seat. The revolver was cold in her hands. She passed this to Evelyn, who kept one hand on the wheel as she slid the gun underneath her leg.
    Amanda clicked the radio. “Dispatch?”
    There was no answer.
    “Dispatch, this is unit sixteen. Over?”
    The radio clicked. “Unit twenty-three to unit sixteen,” a man’s voice said. “You gals need some help?”
    Amanda gripped the radio in her hand. She had called for dispatch, not some hillbilly out on patrol.
    “Copy sixteen?” the man asked. “What’s your locale?”
    Amanda spoke through gritted teeth. “Techwood Homes.”
    “Repeat, please.”
    Amanda enunciated the words. “Tech. Wood. Homes.”
    “Copy that. Perry Homes.”
    “Jesus,” Evelyn hissed. “He thinks this is a joke.”
    Amanda clutched the radio as hard as she could, wanting to break it over the man’s head. She put her finger to the button, but couldn’t bring