“No charge,” Neesa said, pulling on a pair of disposable gloves. “Let’s get this party started.” She removed the towel from Drue’s head and began combing and clipping it into quadrants. She pulled out a long strand of hair and began painting at the hairline.

“Ow!” Drue screeched, feeling the burn of the bleach on her scalp.

“Oh yeah,” Neesa mumbled. “I think I was supposed to put some Vaseline on your hairline to keep the chemicals offa you before we started. You got any Vaseline?”

“No!” Drue screeched. “I don’t have any damned Vaseline.”

The oven timer dinged.

Rae Hernandez walked into the kitchen. “Time’s up, Neesa,” she said pleasantly. “And you’re under arrest.”

52

Neesa’s jaw dropped open and she struggled to jump up from the chair, but Detective Hernandez easily pushed her back down.

“Stay seated,” Hernandez said, her face stern.

“Who’s she?” Neesa asked, pointing at the newcomer.

“This is my friend, Detective Rae Hernandez, with the Treasure Island Police Department,” Drue said. “She’s been listening in the other room.”

“Shhhhhiiiiit.” Neesa buried her head in both hands. After a moment, she looked up, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Y’all got to know, I didn’t have nuthin’ to do with what happened to Jaz. That was Byars. He said he’d fuck me up bad if I didn’t do what he said.”

“Okay,” Hernandez said. “Let’s talk about what he said and did, and what you said and did.”

“What? Aw, hell no. I been running and hiding out from that dude for two years. I can’t talk to you. He’ll kill me. He told me that night, he would kill my ass if I ever said anything to anybody.”

“You already did.” Hernandez walked over and picked up the cell phone. She held it up and showed it to the other woman. “And we’ve got you live and in color.”

“That ain’t cool,” Neesa said angrily. “You can’t bug somebody without asking their permission. I know my rights. I ain’t saying nuthin’ else. I want a lawyer.”

“You forget, I was in the next room, listening, and I heard every word you said,” Hernandez said.

“Look, Neesa,” Drue chimed in. “Aren’t you tired of running? Look at it this way. It’s him or it’s you. I think you should talk to this detective.”

“I don’t give a shit what you think.” Neesa folded her arms defiantly across her chest.

“Okay,” Hernandez said. She whipped a set of handcuffs from her belt and snapped them over the girl’s wrists. “Neesa Vincent, you’re under arrest for murder and accessory to murder. Anything you say can be held against you in a court of law…”

“I never killed nobody,” Neesa protested.