Free Cop Town by Karin Slaughter Page B

was big enough to pass for an Indian sari. You could always spot the new recruits by their clothes. They didn’t get their uniforms until they graduated from the academy, because most of them washed out before graduation. The guys in the supply room gave the women uniforms that were too large, while the black men got uniforms that were obscenely small.
    “Listen up, blondie.” Charlaine buttoned her pants. “You never open the door all the way. Ever.”
    “Uh …” The blonde touched her trembling fingers to her neck. She was clearly on the verge of tears. Maggie was shocked she’d made it through the gauntlet. She looked like a light breeze could blow her right back out the door.
    Instead of asking the woman, Charlaine asked Maggie, “Who’s this?”
    Maggie shrugged. “I guess one of the new recruits.”
    “Shit, I forgot they were coming in today.” Charlaine sat down so she could load up her utility belt. “She obviously can’t sew.”
    Wanda suggested, “Maybe she thinks she’ll get arrested for altering her uniform.”
    They laughed. The new girl stared at them like a caged animal.
    Maggie turned to her locker and busied herself with her purse, checking the things that she already knew were in there. She’d endured the same kind of taunts when she’d first put on the uniform. It was part of the initiation. If you couldn’t make it in the women’s locker room, yousure as hell couldn’t make it out on the street. At least the jabs you got in here were only verbal. In her first month, Maggie had been spat on more times than she could count and punched in the face by the wife of the man she was arresting for domestic battery.
    “Where you from?” Wanda asked.
    The new girl obviously wasn’t sure if the question was meant for her.
    “Yeah, you,” Wanda said. “Where you from?”
    “Atlanta.” Her voice was like money, so it wasn’t surprising when she said, “Buckhead.”
    Wanda gave a low whistle. You didn’t find a lot of cops from the wealthiest section of town. “Hoity-toity.”
    Charlaine slapped Maggie’s leg for attention. She held out her hand, and Maggie helped leverage her up from the bench. Charlaine told them, “Y’all’ve got five minutes before the colored girls get the room.”
    The palaver of male voices filled the space as she cracked open the heavy door.
    Wanda kept her arms crossed, demanding of the new girl, “So, Hoity-Toity, what’re you doing slumming it here?”
    “Just …” The woman kept wringing her hands. “Working.”
    “Working.” Wanda had an ice pick for a tongue. She kept staring at the woman, obviously checking all the boxes that listed why she hated her. Tall, with strawberry blonde hair and a model-perfect face. Big blue eyes. High cheekbones. Even without lipstick, her lips were cherry red. She had a couple years on them all, but there was something fresher, younger, more feminine about her.
    Wanda asked, “You here to meet guys? ’Cause I can tell you right now, ain’t none of ’em worth knowing.”
    The woman said nothing, but her eyes told a story. She was going through her options, chief among them being to open the door and run away screaming.
    “Go on.” Wanda nodded toward the door. “You wouldn’t be the first gal to call it quits before roll call.”
    “I’m not quitting.” The blonde seemed to be speaking more to herself.“I’m not here to meet men. I’m here to do a job. And I’m not quitting.”
    Wanda grunted. “We’ll see about that, Hoity-Toity.”
    Her voice got stronger. “Yes, you will.”
    Maggie felt bad for the girl. She asked, “What’s your name?”
    “Kay—” She seemed to change her mind. “Kate Murphy.”
    “Kate Murphy?” Wanda echoed. “We got our own Irish Spring here—‘manly, but I like it, too!’ ”
    Maggie smiled at the joke. Wanda sounded just like the woman in the commercial.
    “I’m not—” Kate shifted, nearly losing her balance. Her shoes were too big. Her pants were