“Call her right now.”
“In the conference room,” says Jane. She shakes her phone like it holds the key to her fate.
—
“Brenda, it’s Jane Burke. I have Andy Tate with me on speaker.”
“You must have run the prints from the crime scene,”Sergeant Tarkington squawks through the speakerphone.“We just got word from AFIS.”
“You got a hit from your crime scene?”
“We did, indeed, Sergeant Burke.”
Jane pounds the table. “Tell me, Brenda, and please make me happy.”
100
Vicky
“That issonot true,” says Mariah.
“Yes, it is, I remember,” Macy spits back.
“Yeah. You remember. You were, like, six.” Mariah makes a face like her younger sister is the dumbest human being on the planet.
“Girls—”
“I was seven and you were crying and all nervous!”
“Girls, for heaven’s sake,” I say. “Both of you were nervous before you got your ears pierced. Both of you were brave.”
Friday night in Elm Grove. It’s less than an hour’s drive from my crappy little studio apartment in Delavan. With all the double shifts I’ve pulled, I was owed an early day on Friday. I thought about staying home, but Macy wanted to get her ears pierced and wanted me there.
I pull Adam’s car onto Sunflower Drive and head toward the house.
A car, a sedan, is parked in the driveway. I slow the car enough to get a look at the license plate. A state logo, half of the words circling the top, the other half circling the bottom:
Wisconsin Department of Justice
Office of the Attorney General
I keep driving.
“Um, Vicky, this is our house?”
“Hey, y’know what, I forgot, your daddy had a meeting,” I say, drivingaway from the house. “Let’s just go get dinner on our own and bring something home for him.”
“You want me to text him?” Mariah asks.
“No, no. I just forgot. He has a meeting. Don’t bother him.”
I grip the steering wheel and count to five.
I could run. I could. Right now, I could run. Rambo could get me a new identity. But I have the girls with me.
This isn’t happening.
101