more bills they could pay and the more services they could offer.
Of course, the more speeders they caught, the busier the courts were. Running courts cost money, too.
As did issuing warrants and tracking down those offenders who didn't bother to show up to the justice party in their honor.
It hadn't been difficult for Sam to land the duty that week. It was one of a cop's most boring assignments, largely consisting of sitting in a pull-off on a country road and monitoring the equipment on her dash.
On occasion, she would wave at someone she knew as they passed.
She got to admire the stalks of corn that prevented her from seeing much beyond the road. And imagine the fall colors that October would soon be bringing.
She'd listen to the drone of the police radio, the most dangerous news the broadcast of a possible theft at the local budget department store.
And she drove herself crazy trying to find a lead in her hunt for the superlab. She was missing something.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she noticed for the third time that week the same car that had picked Maggie up when she'd gone to David's to see about a babysit ting job.
All three times, Maggie had been in the passenger seat.
On Monday, Sam hadn't thought much about it. The girls were friends. Maggie didn't have her license yet. Glenna most likely gave her a ride home after school. Routine.
But they'd headed away from Maggie's trailer park.
Probably had an afternoon babysitting job.
Or a rendezvous with an adult male?
Jumping to conclusions was a sign of bad police work. And could get people killed.
On Tuesday, Sam had seen Maggie in the car again. On a different road. She'd decided to follow the girls.
The friend had dropped Maggie at the newspaper office, then drove off.
A few minutes later, Maggie had come out with a bike and a load of papers. Sam followed her for a few minutes, but she was just delivering papers.
On Thursday, when they drove off in yet another direction, Sam followed the girls again. And when they crossed the county line, so did she, careful to stay far enough back that if they noticed her, they wouldn't feel threatened.
They ended up at the Tri-County Sports and Tennis Complex. Not so unusual for an after-school activity. Keeping kids off the streets had been one of the big selling points of the complex when it had come up for a tax vote.
But Kelly had specifically said that Maggie had quit cheerleading and was not involved in sports.
Maybe she'd meant high school sports. But there was no way Lori Winston could afford tennis lessons for Maggie.
Driving slowly, Sam stopped across from the complex when the girls pulled into a parking spot.
Maggie got out alone and went into a small wooden building. When she came back out, she was carrying two tennis rackets and a small duffel with an emblem of a tennis ball on the side.
Sam recognized the duffel. She and Chuck had played tennis at the complex a time or two. Rented balls were kept in those duffels.
Another dead end. And this time in a county vehicle. On county time. Across the county line. She had to stop her surveillance of Maggie Winston. At least, to this extent.
She'd found nothing on the girl's mother, either. Lori was something of a deadbeat--spent a little too much time at the local bar. No warrants. No record. Long time on the job. No obvious influx of cash.
Putting the cruiser in Reverse, Sam turned to back up and caught a glimpse of Maggie out of the corner of her eye. The girl was heading to the tennis courts while her friend drove away.
Another kid, male, approximately sixteen years of age, had just exited the equipment building with a similar duffel. He went out to the courts, as well.
Sam watched as a couple of other teenagers arrived, went in for balls and walked toward the courts.
None of them were wearing tennis clothes--just denim shorts and T-shirts and tennis shoes.
And as she watched, she noticed that none of them could play tennis worth a damn,
Of course, the more speeders they caught, the busier the courts were. Running courts cost money, too.
As did issuing warrants and tracking down those offenders who didn't bother to show up to the justice party in their honor.
It hadn't been difficult for Sam to land the duty that week. It was one of a cop's most boring assignments, largely consisting of sitting in a pull-off on a country road and monitoring the equipment on her dash.
On occasion, she would wave at someone she knew as they passed.
She got to admire the stalks of corn that prevented her from seeing much beyond the road. And imagine the fall colors that October would soon be bringing.
She'd listen to the drone of the police radio, the most dangerous news the broadcast of a possible theft at the local budget department store.
And she drove herself crazy trying to find a lead in her hunt for the superlab. She was missing something.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she noticed for the third time that week the same car that had picked Maggie up when she'd gone to David's to see about a babysit ting job.
All three times, Maggie had been in the passenger seat.
On Monday, Sam hadn't thought much about it. The girls were friends. Maggie didn't have her license yet. Glenna most likely gave her a ride home after school. Routine.
But they'd headed away from Maggie's trailer park.
Probably had an afternoon babysitting job.
Or a rendezvous with an adult male?
Jumping to conclusions was a sign of bad police work. And could get people killed.
On Tuesday, Sam had seen Maggie in the car again. On a different road. She'd decided to follow the girls.
The friend had dropped Maggie at the newspaper office, then drove off.
A few minutes later, Maggie had come out with a bike and a load of papers. Sam followed her for a few minutes, but she was just delivering papers.
On Thursday, when they drove off in yet another direction, Sam followed the girls again. And when they crossed the county line, so did she, careful to stay far enough back that if they noticed her, they wouldn't feel threatened.
They ended up at the Tri-County Sports and Tennis Complex. Not so unusual for an after-school activity. Keeping kids off the streets had been one of the big selling points of the complex when it had come up for a tax vote.
But Kelly had specifically said that Maggie had quit cheerleading and was not involved in sports.
Maybe she'd meant high school sports. But there was no way Lori Winston could afford tennis lessons for Maggie.
Driving slowly, Sam stopped across from the complex when the girls pulled into a parking spot.
Maggie got out alone and went into a small wooden building. When she came back out, she was carrying two tennis rackets and a small duffel with an emblem of a tennis ball on the side.
Sam recognized the duffel. She and Chuck had played tennis at the complex a time or two. Rented balls were kept in those duffels.
Another dead end. And this time in a county vehicle. On county time. Across the county line. She had to stop her surveillance of Maggie Winston. At least, to this extent.
She'd found nothing on the girl's mother, either. Lori was something of a deadbeat--spent a little too much time at the local bar. No warrants. No record. Long time on the job. No obvious influx of cash.
Putting the cruiser in Reverse, Sam turned to back up and caught a glimpse of Maggie out of the corner of her eye. The girl was heading to the tennis courts while her friend drove away.
Another kid, male, approximately sixteen years of age, had just exited the equipment building with a similar duffel. He went out to the courts, as well.
Sam watched as a couple of other teenagers arrived, went in for balls and walked toward the courts.
None of them were wearing tennis clothes--just denim shorts and T-shirts and tennis shoes.
And as she watched, she noticed that none of them could play tennis worth a damn,
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