“Let me see the first name on your list.”
Stepp inched the paper toward her.
Vicki touched the name at the top of the page with her forefinger. “Are these even real names? They sound like hooker names.”
Stepp’s eyes grew wide, and he wiped the budding perspiration from the nape of his neck. “Both. And they’re street names, not hooker names. Golly, Mouse. Sheesh!” He chuckled and cleared his throat.
“Well, let’s try it and see.”
Vicki typed the first name on the census list. “Looks like Adrielle Fugate is registered at 127 Western Avenue in Lynn.”
Stepp leaned over her shoulder, his chest pressing against her shoulder blade, as he scribbled 127 Western Ave., Lynn on the paper next to Adrielle’s name. Then he placed both palms on his desk so his arms became pillars, confining Vicki’s b
