That narrow place was why Kanesha ended up in tears in the school locker room. “He…”

“What did he say? Come on. You’re strong enough not to be knocked down by words.”

“…said I’d never amount to anything because my mother was a junkie and she probably poisoned me with drugs.”

“And you believed him?”

“It’s…it’s the way he said it.”

I hadn’t even asked who he was. Part of me wanted to track Morrow down.

“…and he called me a dyke.”

I flinched. “I wish we’d recorded that. Remember what Mike said about him accusing other cops of bigotry.”

Of course, that was across the fed/local divide, and neither side could stand the other. Still, Morrow was now on my radar in a different way. He didn’t get to hurt my girlfriend and get away with it.

When had I started naturally thinking of her in that way? I wasn’t sure, but it was part of me now. I really did think of her as girlfriend. Which probably was stupid and probably wasn’t going to get me approval in certain quarters, but I didn’t really care.

“We need to find a way to…get rid of him,” I said finally, offering her the kleenex from my pocket.

“I hope he gets distracted by a case he can’t solve and it drives him around the bend for months.”
Which was nicer than some of the things she could have wished on him. I was inclined to agree. “Actually, let me add something. That said case be on the other side of the country.”

She laughed weakly. “Rural North Dakota.”

“Why wish him on the North Dakotans? How about LA?” I grinned at her, although I knew it was somewhat weak. “As for you being a dyke, I can hardly talk.”

“You aren’t a dyke, not the way I saw you looking at that guy at the club.”

I laughed a bit. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.” The locker room was a good place to hide, but Kanesha skipping class would be noticed right away. Me skipping class, not so much.
Quite the scholar. I remembered that. Morrow had…accused other cops of bigotry. Maybe he’d accused them of something within his own heart. I hoped I’d get an opportunity to have some kind of nasty word with him.

Well, I did know I’d have to be careful.

Maybe I’d just set my dad on him. No. If I couldn’t handle an FBI agent, then what could I handle? Vampires, I supposed.

But Morrow was definitely turning into a problem. And one I couldn’t solve with a bullet.