"Does it have to be a goddamned game for the siren?" Astor said, and Deborah turned bright red and yanked the wheel hard to bring us off U.S. 1, just barely missing a battered Honda riding on four doughnut tires.

"Astor," I said, "don't say that word."
"She says it all the time," Astor said.
"When you are her age, you can say it, too, if you want to," I said. "But not when you're ten years old." "That's stupid," she said. "If it's a bad word it doesn't matter how old you are."
"That's very true," I said. "But I can't tell Sergeant Deborah what to say."

"That's stupid," Astor repeated, and then switched directions by adding, "Is she really a sergeant? Is that better than a policeman?"

"It means she's the boss policeman," I said.
"She can tell the ones in the blue suits what to do?"
"Yes," I said.
"And she gets to have a gun, too?"
"Yes."

Astor leaned forward as far as the seat belt would let her, and stared at Deborah with something approaching respect, which was not an expression I saw on her face very often. "I didn't know girls could have a gun and be the boss policeman," she said.

"Girls can do any god-anything boys can do," Deborah snapped. "Usually better."
Astor looked at Cody, and then at me. "Anything?" she said.
"Almost anything," I said. "Professional football is probably out."
"Do you shoot people?" Astor asked Deborah.
"For Christ's sake, Dexter," Deborah said.
"She shoots people sometimes," I told Astor, "but she doesn't like to talk about it."
"Why not?"
"Shooting somebody is a very private thing," I said, "and I think she feels that it isn't anybody else's business." "Stop talking about me like I'm a lamp, for Christ's sake," Deborah snapped. "I'm sitting right here." "I know that," Astor said. "Will you tell us about who you shot?"

For an answer, Deborah squealed the car through a sharp turn, into the parking lot, and rocked to a stop in front of the center. "We're here," she said, and jumped out as if she was escaping a nest of fire ants. She hurried into the building and as soon as I got Cody and Astor unbuckled, we followed at a more leisurely pace.

Deborah was still speaking with the sergeant on duty at the desk, and I steered Cody and Astor to a pair of battered chairs. "Wait here," I said. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Just wait?" Astor said, with outrage quivering in her voice. "Yes," I said. "I have to go talk to a bad guy." "Why can't we go?" she demanded. "It's against the law," I said. "Now wait here like I said. Please."

They didn't look terribly enthusiastic, but at least they didn't leap off the chairs and charge down the hallway screaming. I took advantage of their cooperation and joined Deborah.