Least Wanted (Sam McRae Mystery 2)

“But I din’t do nuthin’.”

“But they think you did and that may be enough for now.”

Tina paused, her eyes filling with tears. “I swear, I din’t do it. I wouldn’t kill anyone. Why they think I’d kill my own moms?”

“I don’t have the file yet. I’ll get it first thing tomorrow, when they hold your hearing. I’ll meet with you before we go into the courtroom.”

Our meeting would be a rush-rush affair. I’d probably get an incomplete file and ten minutes tops to confer with her before the hearing. I could picture how it would go down—me, trying to discuss Tina’s case and calm her nerves, while my stomach churned.

I’d take a standard approach—emphasize the good stuff about Tina, in hopes that the master would allow her house arrest with some kind of electronic monitoring. Not that I trusted Tina’s father to keep her home, but the only alternative was detention in an overcrowded, understaffed facility.

“Let’s talk about last Wednesday,” I said. Shanae’s body had been discovered Thursday morning by a neighbor, and from what William Jackson had told me, it appeared she’d been killed Wednesday night. “Did you see your mother at all that day?”

“Only in the mornin’. I was staying clear of her, ’cuz she was all up in my business. So most o’ the day, I was wit’ Rochelle.”

“Rochelle? The one you defended in that fight at school.”

“Right.”

And leader of the Pussy Posse, I mentally noted.

“When you say your mom was ‘in your business,’ what do you mean exactly?”

“She always bitchin’ at me. Like I can never do nothing right.” She paused, then said, “She used to, I mean. Sometimes, when she like that, I jus’ wouldn’t go home. Or I’d wait for her to go to work first.”

“I take it she worked most nights?”

“Yeah, mos’ nights.”

“How about last Wednesday? Was she supposed to work?”

“I dunno.”

“Where were you that day?”

“At school, then I went to Rochelle’s.”

“Let’s try that again,” I said, recalling Alice Fortune’s story that Tina hadn’t been at schoo

l all that week. “And make it the truth this time. You skipped school that day, didn’t you?”

Tina’s mouth dropped open. “How you know that?”

“Never mind how I know. You skipped school all week, am I right?”

She looked up at me with wary eyes. “Yeah.”

“What were you doing?”

“Jus’ hangin’ wit’ Rochelle.”

“So she was skipping, too? Every day?”

She nodded.

“What did you guys do?”

“Hung out at her place, watched TV, went to the mall. Whatever.”