Yesterday McGregor had told Angel that her promotion hadn’t been moved up to satisfy any public relations effort to placate the black community. As much as Angel wanted to believe that—as much as she needed to
believe it—she knew the official city reaction to any incident. Throw a bone to the angry dogs in the street.
The teeth marks were starting to hurt.
Should she just end it right here? Refuse to partner with this woman who so obviously didn’t want it any more than she did?
No. They had a job to do, and, by God, she’d do it. She’d worked too hard to make detective to throw it all away.
“You drive,” Angel said, walking around to the passenger side of the plain, vanilla Buick. “That way people won’t think I’m the chauffeur.”
Sarah slipped into the driver’s seat, snapped her seatbelt in place and pulled out of the motor pool. After driving several blocks in thundering silence, she sighed. “It’ll be easier to work together if we at least speak now and then.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Angel glanced out the side window. “I figure this partnership’s short-term anyway.”
“How’s that?” Sarah eased the car into a break in the traffic on the expressway.
“I’ll make my own visit to the Lieutenant. He’s bound to listen to one of us.” Angel turned to face Sarah, and her expression left nothing to doubt.
“It wasn’t personal,” Sarah said.
“Right.”
“What does that mean?”
“Whatever you want it to.”
Sarah transferred the surge of anger to the gas pedal, and the car lurched around a slow Cadillac with a screech of rubber. Her eyes went quickly to Angel who appeared to be once again enthralled with the scenery.
Swinging over to grab the next exit, Sarah dodged through the heavy traffic, feeling like she was in the middle of an amusement park ride. Finally, she pulled up behind the patrol cars at the east entrance of Northwood Mall.
It stood like a relic compared to newer, glitzier malls, but it still clung to a certain level of classiness, sort of like a dowager queen who merits respect by means of association. It didn’t hurt to associate with Neiman Marcus.
Sarah got out and slammed the door, looking over the roof of the car to Angel. “Can we do this?”
The other woman held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded.
“Good.” Sarah pushed off, and covered the distance to the entrance in quick strides, the soles of her shoes slapping the concrete.
