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

“My girlfriend picked it out.

It was supposed to be for grocery lists.”

I opened it.

His handwriting was small and square, and it went on for pages.

The fifth line down stopped me.

A white Mercedes, four in the afternoon, no tag on the bumper, no stamp on the sheet, and a corporal’s initials in Dewitt’s careful pencil.

“Does anyone else know you keep this?”

“No, Sergeant.”