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

“Yes, Sergeant,” Dewitt said.

Salas looked at the box.

“Monday.”

“Monday,” I said.

Captain Ortiz had the blue folder open on the desk again when I came back at five.

Vivian was still in the chair.

Her white silk scarf was crumpled in her lap.

“You understand this waives civil damages,” Ortiz said.