Dana’s dad talks a lot about when he lived in New York City. He said he always walked like he “owned the place.” Said it’s the reason he never got mugged. Dad exaggerates. But the advice resonates now.

She passes the cruiser. She even nods to the cop she does not recognize. There’s a little thank-you in her nod. Thank you for all you’re doing for our city. You’ll catch the killer. We believe in you. We need you.

Thank God for you.

And he nods with a little you’re-welcome in return.

Dana does as Dad said to do: she walks like she owns the place, takes a right on Red Maple, vanishes behind the Metzgers’ brown picket fence.

Now, no longer any reason (no time, either) to play it cool, she runs. Sure, anybody who sees her might know her, and so the cops might be notified after all. But Dana is thinking of Kit and Kit alone.

She’s not going to Kit’s house. No reason. The phone call told her she wasn’t there. And she isn’t going to the police station, though she suspects she might learn a lot just by stepping inside that place.

No. She’s heading to Garland Park. The only place in the world the ballers have ever totally been themselves. The park where they all became best friends. Where Dana and Kit combined to destroy dozens of other duos on the court. Where they perfected their pick and rolls, their pick and pops, their no-look passes and those with looks too. They once won fifteen games in a row on that court, half those games against the boys, as Kit and Dana took turns being “the heavy,” the primary scorer, as the other played the true point, distributing, even if only to one. There was five-on-five on that court too. Almost the entire girls’ team meeting up for summer games, games Coach Wanda didn’t require of them, games they arranged themselves for the straight-up love of the sport. The sidelines (the cracked concrete) would be covered in Gatorade bottles, water bottles, towels, gym bags, wallets, phones, and keys. If something got stolen? Who cared? This was basketball and threading the needle to a cutting Kit was worth more than anything Dana ever had on her.

She runs.

Dana hit game winners in Garland Park. Kit got into a yelling match with a girl named May from Chaps on that court. They almost fought with fists. Dana and Kit still bring that up today. Even Natasha hit a crazy hook shot out there, one that brought the house down. Garland Park was more than just something to do after school. It was school. It was where Dana learned angles and numbers, social constructs, and how things are really run. It’s where she and Kit learned any and all street skills they had today. And now?

Now Dana approaches Garland with a gun tucked into the waistband of her jeans.

No, not the shitty relic she bought from Phil at Dawn Pawn.