"You had the man in the kitchen?"

"Wait here, please." Vicki ran past Reheema in stocking feet, out of the dining room, and up the stairs. She didn't want Dan to know what she was up to today. She'd rather get busted by Reheema than him. She reached the bedroom, slid on the hardwood floor in her soft socks, and hurried around to the far side of the bed, where Dan was just waking up, muzzy and rubbing an eye with a balled fist.

"Vick?"

"Baby." Vicki leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, deliciously stubbled. "Stay asleep. The house is yours. The door locks when you leave. Take care of yourself today. I have to go."

"What? Where?" Dan lifted his head and opened his eyes, in pale blue confusion. His breath was just as bad as hers, which was the only lucky thing that had happened so far this morning.

"I'll call you later. Go back to sleep. I love you." Vicki kissed him again, then straightened up, hurried out of the room, and ran down the stairs, where a gloating Reheema waited at the front door, holding the coffee and red snow boots.

"In the kitchen?" Reheema whispered, grinning, and Vicki ignored her while she grabbed the boots and stuck her feet inside, then snagged her purse and backpack on the fly, and opened the front door.

From upstairs, Dan called out, "I love you, too!"

Vicki hustled them both outside and closed the door before Reheema could say, out loud:

"Oh no, it's not like that!"

THIRTY

Gray and white snow clouds covered the sky, and Vicki and Reheema circled the block on which they thought Jamal Browning lived, in Overbrook Hills, scoping it out before settling into a parking space. In the daylight, his home was a well-kept, if modest, semidetached row house, and its front yard, bounded by a costly wrought-iron fence, contained a snow-covered Little Tikes slide, a Razor scooter, and a black BMX bike with training wheels.

"I don't see a padlock on that BMX bike," Vicki said, snapping a picture through the telephoto.

"Ain't nobody takin' that child's toys." Reheema pulled the Sunbird into a parking space down the street from the house, next to a curbside pile of dirty snow and in front of a side yard, so that no house was directly in front. The street was more residential than Cater and Aspinall; the girls couldn't sit here forever, undetected. Reheema cut the Sunbird's ignition. "This one's the best we can do."

"Maybe we drive around in a little while, keep moving." Vicki looked around. Schoolkids with Spiderman lunch pails and backpacks were gathering on the far street corner with their watchful mothers, evidently waiting for a school bus.

Vicki couldn't help but smile at the scene. "Aren't those kids so cute?"

Reheema sipped McDonald's coffee, where they'd stopped for bathroom and breakfast.

"They're so small, aren't they? I can't believe we were ever that little, but we were."

Reheema looked over. "You gonna be like this all damn day?"

"Like what?"

"You know, all happy and white."

Vicki laughed. "What?"

"You gotta get over this."

"Why? I can't help it." Vicki flashed on an instant replay from last night, erotic enough to keep her dreamy for hours. She'd had one hour's sleep and three orgasms, a superb ratio. "I love the man."

"Too soon for that."

"Are you kidding? It's been a year. One year of foreplay." Vicki had told Reheema about Mariella and Dan, which, for some reason, hadn't completely allayed her concerns. But Vicki was too happy, or too tired, to hear any objection. "He's a great guy. He's just great."

"Hard to get excited about a U.S. Attorney."

Assistant. "Not that hard."

"So." Reheema paused, with a sly smile. "How hard?"

"Hard enough, and that's all I'll say about that." They both laughed and returned their attention to the house.

"I don't think he'll be comin' out anytime soon," Reheema said. "Drug dealers don't start the day early, but I didn't wanna miss him."

"Sure. Makes sense." But Vicki was thinking about love, especially as applied to Reheema. "I was surprised that you weren't seeing anybody."

"Nobody special."

"Why not? I mean, you're beautiful, you're smart, and your body is phenomenal."

"Calm down."

Vicki smiled. "You look like a model, even in that dumb hat."

"Means a lot, coming from a girl who wears fireman boots."

They laughed again. They were more relaxed together today, if only a fraction. "So? Vicki asked, after a minute.

"What?"

"Give."

"There used to be a man, now there isn't." Reheema looked over, her emotions opaque behind her sunglasses, though she was smiling. "And that's all I'll say about that."

Vicki turned as a school bus appeared and rolled to a stop at the corner, belching sooty smoke. The doors slapped open, and the kids piled on willy-nilly, collecting last-minute kisses and hugs. The bus pulled away from the waving mothers, and Vicki noticed the front door opening at the house. "Check it, Ree."

Reheema raised the binoculars to her sunglasses. "My mother used to call me Ree."

Oops. Vicki took a photo as a pretty young black woman left the house, tugging along an adorable little boy, who looked about four. That they were mother and son was undeniable; they had the same tall, thin build, same large, almost black eyes, and same short hair, cut natural. They even wore matching red Sixers jackets, the sight of which chased Vicki's love flashback away, replacing it with an awful memory of the night Morty had been killed. She took another picture, glad that the camera covered her face.

"Now we get to see which car is theirs." Reheema raised the binoculars. "I say the Lexus. What do you say?"

Morty. Vicki had lost her appetite for their guess-the-car game. She watched as the young mother stopped to light a cigarette, a purple mat tucked under her arm, then greeted the other mothers now scattering from the corner. Then she said good-bye and walked with the child to a gold Explorer, chirped the door unlocked, and they got inside.

"Losin' my touch." Reheema clucked. "Hell no, what's that under her arm? The purple roll? Tell me that's not a yoga mat!"

"It is." Vicki took a photo of the license plate as the gold Explorer pulled out of the space. "I don't think we should follow her. I think she's taking the kid to preschool and I don't wanna miss our man."

"She's got herself a yoga mat? A yoga mat? She gonna smoke that cigarette in the damn yoga class?"

Vicki lowered the camera, and Reheema peered at her over the top of her sunglasses.

"You okay, Tinker Bell?"

No. "Are we getting closer to whoever killed my partner?"

"We're doing what we can do."

"Tell me we can get them."

"I can't do that. I can only tell you that we'll try."

Vicki blinked. "Fair enough."

Two hours later, a white Neon finally pulled around the corner, coming toward them, and both women saw it at the same instant.

"Driver's here!" Reheema said, sitting suddenly upright, and Vicki grabbed the camera, aimed it at the Neon's windshield, and shot quickly. It reflected the cloudy sky, but maybe they could get something off it on the computer. The women watched, tense, and a minute or two later, the front door to the house opened and a tall man emerged, with a black Adidas bag.

"It's him!" Vicki almost shouted, recognizing Browning's face through the telephoto. It was the same man as in the photo! "Reheema, do you recognize him?"

"No, never saw the man before."

"Rats!" Vicki fired five great shots of Browning's face, in close-up, as he hustled to the Neon, his Adidas bag swinging, then opened the passenger-side door and jumped inside.

"Get down!" Reheema said quickly, and they both ducked so their heads didn't show as the Neon drove past.