A White Mercedes Pulled Up to Gate Six on a Tuesday Afternoon Without a Permit

Not a locker, not a desk, and not in anybody else’s hands.”

“Not even Salas?”

“Salas already knows more than he wanted to.”

Dewitt capped the pen.

“What happens to us now?”

“Nothing happens to you.

You wrote an entry when you were told to write one.”

“That’s not what I asked.”