High-Caliber Concealer
Weaponry
panel.”
    “Where was I?” asked Jenny.
    “I think you were in the bar,” said
Nikki.
    “Oh, right! That dentist conference was in
the same hotel. That was hilarious.”
    “What’s your point?” said Darla.
    “My point is: do you think I couldn’t do
this job? And more to the point, do you think it wasn’t offered to
me?” Darla looked uncertain and Nikki continued. “I was running the
division while Mrs. M was in Turkey, so why wouldn’t I continue to
run it while she helps her husband recover from heart surgery?”
    Darla looked uncertain and wary, but didn’t
speak as Nikki continued.
    “Because if I’ve learned anything from Mrs.
M, it’s that we have to think of more than just the immediate
problem. If we want Carrie Mae to move into the future we have to
put women with new ideas in positions of power. I heard you speak
at the conference and I knew that you’d been buried. You were never
going to get any higher than being a city branch leader in
Utah.”
    Darla’s lips twitched angrily.
    “But I thought your ideas were big. I
thought they had promise. I thought if you could prove yourself
here in LA, you might have a shot at moving up the food chain.
Instead, you moved into the big desk and started acting like you’re
strictly Utah.”
    For a moment, it looked like Darla might
explode and then her shoulders sagged.
    “What’s the point?” she muttered, her eyes
drifting to the window. “Everyone hates me here. They all think I
stole your job. How am I supposed to get anything done, when for
every order I give they just look to you to approve it?”
    “I didn’t realize it would be this much of a
problem,” said Nikki.
    “And none of that changes the fact that your
team killed a cop,” said Darla snapping back to angry.
    “From a certain point of view,” said Nikki
with a shrug. “Another way of looking at it is that they stopped a
serial killer who was preying on First Nations women because he
knew their deaths were less likely to be fully investigated.”
    “The evidence on that is… it’s not
definitive. They killed a Canadian police officer!”
    “The skeletons in his basement are pretty
definitive. What you really mean is that I embarrassed you in front
of your Canadian friend,” said Ellen, through clenched teeth.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded
Darla.
    “It was pretty clear you were real cozy with
the Alberta Branch leader,” said Jenny. “Of course you’d cover up
for her.”
    “You’re the ones with something to cover
up,” bellowed Darla. “Maybe if you’d actually filed a report or
followed the chain of command, I could have done something, but no…
you’re Nikki’s team, you don’t have to follow the rules!” She threw
up her hands in outrage, and sat breathing heavily into the silence
that followed.
    “I did file a report,” said Ellen icily.
“You buried it.”
    “I did no such thing!” Darla’s eyes widened
in outrage. “I do not bury reports.” She stabbed a finger into the
desk with each word.
    “Somebody did,” said Ellen, glaring.
    “Well, it wasn’t me,” Darla shot back.
    “Actually,” said Jane, clearing her throat
nervously. “There might be a way to check that.”
    “Talk to me, Jane,” said Nikki.
    “Well, every time a report is generated it’s
given a unique file number. Even if the file is deleted that file
number is never repeated. Sometimes files get deleted for perfectly
legit reasons, but the person who deletes it has to put in their ID
number. That number and the ID number of the report originator get
stored in a computer somewhere. They’re still retrievable.”
    “I filed it when I was in Canada,” said
Ellen, looking worried. “The first time I saw Officer Pearson, when
I was in the middle of that other mission, I came back and I filed
a report, but no one did anything. Can you access Canadian
files?”
    “I don’t have clearance,” said Jane. The
unspoken thought clear on her face

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