nodded as she watched him eat, nodded as she washed the dishes. An overwhelming sadness had taken hold. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, she shut it for fear of crying.
Duke picked up the telephone on the first ring. His voice was gravelly, probably from too many after-dinner cigarettes. “Hello?”
“Daddy, it’s me.”
“You home?”
“No, Daddy.”
He waited, then asked, “Car break down?”
“No, sir.”
She heard his recliner squeak. “What is it? I know something’s bothering you. You were sulking all night.”
Amanda caught her reflection in the chrome of the pay phone. She was twenty-five years old. She had touched a dead person last weekend. She had stared down a pimp yesterday morning. Helped examine a dead girl last night. She had stood up to Butch Bonnie in the street. She should be able to have a frank conversation with her father.
She asked, “Why did you have me transferred to crossing guard duty?”
“What?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “I didn’t transfer you. Who the hell transferred you?” She could hear papers rustling, a pen clicking. “Give me the jackass’s name. I’ll talk to him about a transfer.”
“You didn’t do it?”
“Why would I transfer you out when I’m gonna be back at my old squad in less than a month?”
He was right. What’s more, if Duke was displeased with someone, he generally told them to their face. “I’m on crossing duty, starting tomorrow.” She’d already called dispatch to verify it was true. “Along with Evelyn Mitchell.”
“Mitchell?” His tone changed. “What’re you doing with that pushy broad? I told you to stay away from her.”
“I know you did, but we’re working a case together.”
He grunted. “What kind of case?”
“Two girls have been murdered.” She added, “White girls. They lived at Techwood Homes.”
“Whores, I guess?”
“Yes, they were.”
He was silent, obviously thinking. “This have something to do with that nigger got charged for killing a white girl?”
“Yes, sir.”
She heard the flick of his lighter, a huff of air as he exhaled. “That why you were at the jail yesterday morning?”
Amanda couldn’t swallow past the lump in her throat. She saw her life starting to disappear before her eyes. Her apartment. Her job. Her freedom.
Duke said, “Heard you stared that coon down. Locked yourself in a room with him.”
Amanda didn’t answer. Hearing Duke say the words made her realize how crazy she had been. How stupid. She was lucky she’d escaped with her life.
Duke asked, “Were you scared?”
She knew he would see through a lie. “I was terrified.”
“But you didn’t let him see it.”
“No, sir.”
She heard him take another long drag on his cigarette. “I guess you think you’re going to be out late tonight?”
“I—” Amanda didn’t know what to say. She glanced down the street. The moon was almost full in the sky. The black wooden cross cast a shadow across the sidewalk in front of the soup kitchen. “We’re staking out a possible suspect.”
“We?”
She let the question go unanswered.
“What evidence do you got?”
“Nothing,” she admitted. “Just—” She searched for a better explanation, but could only come up with, “Women’s intuition.”
“Don’t call it that,” he ordered. “Call it a hunch. You feel it in your gut, not between your legs.”
Amanda didn’t know what to say other than, “All right.”
He coughed a few times. “That’s Rick Landry’s case you’re poking around, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I wouldn’t trust that idiot to find his asshole in a snowstorm.” His chuckle turned into a sharp cough. “If you’re out late, you’ll need your sleep. I’ll get myself breakfast tomorrow morning.”
The phone clicked in her ear. Amanda stared at the receiver as if the plastic mouthpiece could explain to her what had just happened. She didn’t look up until a pair of headlights flashed for her attention.
Evelyn’s Falcon station wagon smelled of candy and cheap wine. She smiled as Amanda settled into the passenger’s seat. “You okay?”
“Just puzzled.” She told Evelyn about the phone call with her father.
“Well.” Evelyn sounded circumspect. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
“Yes.” Duke was a lot of things, but he was not a liar.
“Then he must be telling the truth.”
Amanda knew that Evelyn would never trust Duke. She could understand why. As far as the other woman was concerned, he was cut from the same cloth as Rick Landry and Butch Bonnie. And maybe he was, but he was still Amanda’s father.
Evelyn stared down the street at the soup kitchen. “Is Ulster even in there?”
“He’s cleaning up.” Amanda had walked by earlier and seen James Ulster lifting a large soup pot off the table. His back was to her, but she’d still quickened her step. “There’s a green van parked behind the building. I called in the license plate—it’s registered to the church. There were some religious tracts in the front seat, a Bible on the dash. It has wooden crates in the back, a bunch of ropes. I guess he uses them to keep the food from spilling.”
“Delivering food to the needy. That sounds like a serial killer to me.”
“Surely you can think of one?”
Evelyn wasn’t up for teasing. “Driving over here, part of me felt like I was going to my own funeral.” She crossed her arms low on her waist. “Our last day on the job, or at least our real job. The job we want to do. I don’t think I can fit into my crossing guard uniform anymore. I thought that thing was retired.”
Amanda didn’t want to talk about it. “Did you call Georgia Baptist?”
“Callahan’s fiancee is named Eileen Sapperson so at least we were told the truth about that. She didn’t show up for work this morning. No home phone number. No address. Another Doug Henning magical disappearance.”
“Another dead end,” Amanda noted. Miss Lula hadn’t been able to find anyone at Techwood who remembered seeing a man fitting Hank Bennett’s description, and while plenty of people knew the hulking Mr. Ulster, none of them had ever seen him cause trouble. It was hard to make enemies of people to whom you were bringing a hot meal.
Evelyn said, “James Ulster is at Techwood every Monday and Friday, the same days the victims were found.”
“He’s in and out so much that no one would notice him,” Amanda added. “He knew Kitty, at least. He knew enough about Mary Halston to say that Trey had a thing for her. He probably knew Lucy Bennett, too.”
“He’s the only one who puts the girls as alive recently. Jane Delray, Hank Bennett, Trey Callahan, Juice—they all say the three girls have been gone at least a year.”
“Maybe Ulster is Butch’s CI. He could’ve said Lucy Bennett was dead so her brother would stop looking for her.”
“Was he really looking for her?” Evelyn asked. “As far as we know, he stopped when he found Kitty. And none
