40
I clicked off the dome light. With the odor of a near-death experience still clinging to me, it was easier to share the limited information I had about Addy’s friend in a car in the dark. At least for me, though I may have been alone in that feeling.
“So let me get this straight,” Mike said, gripping the wheel tightly. “Carly Whitmore is picked up for something relatively minor while still a juvenile. She’s transferred to Brummel. You can’t find any indication of a court hearing—”
“Not yet.”
“—But she’s released from Brummel. Before or after she turns eighteen?” Mike asked.
He’d interrupted me digging my filthy, creeping slacks out of my butt. (This afternoon had definitely exceeded their design specs.) I fumbled for my flashlight and flipped back and forth between the pages, skimm
