Criminal

couldn’t find her. Amanda found herself hoping that Evelyn had come to her senses and gone back home to take care of her family. It was hard enough for Amanda to force herself out of bed every morning. She couldn’t imagine the dread she’d feel leaving her family, knowing the sort of world into which she was thrusting herself.
    But then, Evelyn wasn’t the only officer who’d disappeared. The new sergeant, Luther Hodge, had been summarily transferred. His replacement was a white man named Hoyt Woody. He was from North Georgia, and his thick hill accent was made all the more unintelligible by the toothpick he kept in his mouth at all times. The tensions around the squad were still there, but they were the usual kind. Everyone was more comfortable with a known entity.
    At least Hodge’s disappearance wasn’t into thin air. Vanessa had made more phone calls, which revealed the sergeant had been transferred to one of the Model City precincts. Not only was it a downward move, it took him out of Amanda’s circle. Unfortunately, she hadn’t the nerve to go to Hodge’s new station and ask him why they’d been sent to Techwood Homes on such a fool’s errand.
    Not that Amanda wasn’t capable of other useless errands. The last few days had been a test of her two warring sides. She longed to put the whole Techwood ordeal behind her, but her curiosity would not let it go. Her sleepless nights were not just filled with fear. They were filled with questions.
    Amanda wanted to think that her cop’s curiosity had been piqued, but the honest truth was that she was coasting on nothing more than woman’s intuition. The whore who was living in Kitty Treadwell’s apartment had put the bug in Amanda’s ear. Something wasn’t right there. She could feel it in her bones.
    Which is why Amanda had done some poking around that had exacerbated her already frayed nerves. Stupid poking around that would probably get back to her father and land her in hot water not just with Duke, but with the higher-ups in the police force.
    Amanda closed her textbook. And she especially hadn’t the stomach to read Phyllis Schlafly’s rebuttal to the Equal Rights Amendment. Amanda was sick and tired of being told how to live her life by women who never had to write their own rent checks.
    “What’s the skinny?”
    Amanda jumped so hard she nearly slammed her book into her face. She shushed Evelyn Mitchell, then turned around to check on Peterson.
    “Sorry,” Evelyn whispered. She put her hand on the door handle, but Amanda slammed down the lock. Evelyn stood outside the car, unmoved. “You know the window is down, right?”
    Behind her, Vanessa Livingston giggled.
    Reluctantly, Amanda unlocked the door and got out of the car. She whispered, “What do you want?”
    Evelyn whispered back, “We’re trading. You for Nessa.”
    “No way.” The brass wouldn’t care, but Amanda had no intention of ever partnering with Evelyn Mitchell again. She started to get back into the car. Evelyn caught her arm, and Vanessa squeezed past, slipping into the seat and carefully latching the door.
    Amanda stood in the empty parking lot, wanting to slap them both.
    Evelyn told Vanessa, “We’ll be back in a few hours.”
    “Take your time.” Vanessa checked Peterson. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere.”
    Evelyn used her finger to swipe the side of her nose, à la Robert Redford in The Sting . Vanessa did the same.
    “This is ridiculous,” Amanda muttered, reaching into the car to retrieve her purse and textbook.
    “Oh, cheer up,” Evelyn said. “Maybe we’ll find some mud for you to stick in.”
    Evelyn drove her Ford Falcon up North Avenue. The station wagon was now devoid of moving boxes and filled with various baby items. Except for the radio on the seat between them, there was nothing that would indicate a police officer drove this car. The vinyl seat felt sticky under Amanda’s legs. As an only child with no cousins, she was seldom around children. Amanda could not help but think that Zeke Mitchell had secreted a vile substance onto the vinyl.
    “Pretty day,” Evelyn said.
    She had to be joking. The noontime sun was so intense that Amanda’s eyes were watering. She shielded her eyes from the glare.
    Evelyn reached into her purse and slipped on a pair of Foster Grants. “I think I have another pair.” She dug around in her bag.
    “No, thank you.” Amanda had seen the same glasses at Richway. They cost at least five