Eve scrutinized her husband, watching as he put his head closer to the officer, as if they were chums. She strained to hear his words, his ugly words. “Listen, we don’t want any trouble with the townships.” He pointed at the fastened umbrella clenched in the dead woman’s hand. “Look at that. God knows that anyone could think she had a weapon. What the hell, she’s not supposed to be walking in our streets after dark anyway.”
Eve felt sick. She saw the officer put his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, he smiled and said something, but she was done listening. She ran to the bathroom to throw up.
When she returned to the porch, there were men lifting Conchita’s body into the back of a van. Where’s the ambulance? What are they doing? God, no. What are they up to? Eve knew they were covering up the crime. There would be no wrongdoing when the reporters relayed the story in the morning’s news. Her friend would be perceived as a thug who deserved what she got. They would spin the events of the night so there would be no upheaval from Latino Town. This was beyond wrong, this was beyond evil. Eve ran for her hand bag and keys. She couldn’t take any more if it. She had to get away from it. SHE HAD TO GET AWAY FROM IT.
The garage door opened and Eve stepped on the accelerator. She could hear Jonathan yelling at her as she drove into the street. In the rear view mirror, she saw him wave her off in disgust, and then turn his back to her. The men were laughing at something.
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