A White Mercedes Pulled Up to Gate Six on a Tuesday Afternoon Without a Permit
She looked at the clipboard in my hand.
The brass clip caught the sun.
“Move the barrier.”
“No, ma’am.”
The engine went quiet.
She got out and shut the door with both hands, slowly, as if she wanted me to hear every part of it.
Dewitt and Salas came up behind me.
I heard Salas swallow.