"Up against the truck, stubby, or this is gonna get so real it'll hurt." Annie stepped in behind him, slapped a cuff around his right wrist, and pulled his arm up behind his back. "Up against the goddamn truck!"

She stepped into him, trying to turn him with pressure on his arm. Poncelet staggered, throwing her off balance, then swung around to take a punch at her. Their feet tangled in a clumsy dance and they went down in a heap on the side of the road, wrestling, grunting.

Poncelet swore in her face, his breath hot and acetous with beer gases bubbling up from his belly. He groped for a handhold to right himself, grabbing Annie's left breast. Annie kicked him in the shin and caught him in the mouth with her elbow. Poncelet got one knee under him and tried to surge to his feet, one hand swinging hard into Annie's nose.

"Son of a bitch!" she yelled as blood coursed down over her lips. She came to her feet and ran Poncelet headlong into the side of the truck.

"You picked the wrong day to fuck with me, shorty!" she snarled, closing the other cuff tight around his free wrist. "You're under arrest for every stinkin' crime I can think of!"

"I want a real cop!" he bellowed. "This is America. I got rights! I got the right to remain silent-"

"Then why don't you?" Annie barked, shoving him toward the cruiser.

"I ain't no crim'nal! I got rights!"

"You've got shit for brains, that's what you've got. Man, you have dug yourself a hole so deep, you're gonna need a ladder to see rock bottom."

She pushed him into the backseat and slammed the door. Traffic passed by on the blacktop road to Mouton's. A kid with a goatee leaned out the window of a jacked-up GTO and gave her the finger. Annie flipped it back at him and climbed in behind the wheel of her car.

"You're a feminazi, that's what you are!" Poncelet shouted, kicking the back of the seat. "You're a goddamn feminazi!"

Annie wiped the blood off her mouth with her shirtsleeve. "Watch your mouth, Poncelet. You start quoting Rush Limbaugh to me, I'll take you out in the swamp and shoot you."

She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror and swore as she pulled the radio mike. With the black eye from Wednesday and the bloody nose, she looked as if she'd gone five rounds with Mike Tyson.

"One Able Charlie. I'm bringing in a drunk. Thanks for nothing."

Poncelet was still screaming when Annie escorted him to Booking. She had stopped listening, her own anger muting his words to an annoying roar in the background. What if Poncelet had hurt her? What if he had gotten hold of her gun? Would anyone have known the difference?

The Deputies' Association had voted to pay Fourcade's legal bills. She wondered if they'd also taken a vote on getting her killed. She hadn't been invited to the meeting.

The shift was changing-guys going in and out of the locker room, hanging around the briefing room. Time for bullshit and bad jokes over strong coffee. The relaxed smiles froze and vanished when Annie came down the hall.

"What?" she challenged no one in particular. "Disappointed to see me in one piece?"

"Disappointed to see you at all," Mullen muttered.

"Yeah? Well, now you know how the whole female population feels when they see you coming, Mullen. What did you think?" she demanded. "That keying me out on the radio would make me disappear?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Broussard. You're hysterical."

"No, I'm pissed off. You got a problem with me, then be a man and bring it to me instead of pulling this adolescent bullshit-"

"You're the problem," he charged. "If you can't handle the job, then leave."

"I can handle the job. I was doing my job-"

"What the hell's going on out here?" Hooker bellowed, stepping into the hall.

Too angry for circumspection, Annie turned toward the sergeant. "Someone's covering my transmissions."

"That's bullshit," Mullen said.

"Musta been something wrong with your radio," Hooker said. Annie wanted to kick him.

"Funny how I suddenly can't get a radio that works."

"You got bad vibes, Broussard," Mullen said. "Maybe the wire in your bra is screwing up your reception."

Hooker glared at him. "Shut the fuck up, Mullen."

"It's not the radio," Annie said. "It's the attitude. Y'all are acting like a bunch of spoiled little boys, like I ruined everybody's fun. Someone was breaking the law and I stopped him. That's my job. If y'all have a problem with that, then you don't belong in a uniform."

"We know who doesn't belong here," Mullen muttered.

The silence was absolute. Annie looked from one deputy to another, a lineup of stony faces and averted eyes. They may not all have felt as strongly as Mullen, but no one was standing up for her, either.

Finally, Hooker spoke. "You got proof somebody did you wrong, Broussard, then file a grievance. Otherwise, quit your goddamn whining and go do your paperwork on that drunk."

No one moved until Hooker had disappeared back into his office. Then Prejean and Savoy walked away, breaking the standoff. Mullen started down the hall, leaning toward Annie as he passed.

"Yeah, Broussard," he murmured. "Quit your whining or somebody'll give you something to whine about."

"Don't threaten me, Mullen."

He raised his brows in mock fear. "What you gonna do? Arrest me?" The expression turned stony. "You can't arrest us all."

Late July: Pant makes it known around the office that she means to divorce Donnie. They have been separated since February. Renard begins to show an interest in her. Drops into the realty office to chat, to show his concern for her, etc.

August: Renard clearly has a crush. He sends Pam flowers and small gifts, asks her to lunch, asks her out for drinks. She goes with him only in a group, tells her partner she wants to be sure Renard doesn't get the wrong idea about their friendship, though she admits she thinks it's rather sweet the way he's trying to court her. She tries to stress to Renard they are just friends.

Late August: Pam begins to receive breather and hang-up calls at home.

September: Small items go missing from Pam's office and from her home. A paperweight, a small bottle of perfume, a small framed photo of herself and daughter Josie, a hairbrush. She can't pinpoint when the items were taken. Renard is hanging around, shows more concern than seems appropriate. Pam begins to feel uncomfortable around him. Breather and hang-up calls continue.

9/25: On leaving for work, Pam discovers her tires slashed (car parked in unlocked garage). Calls the sheriff's department. Responding deputy: Mullen. Pam expresses her concerns about Renard, but there is no evidence he committed the crime. Detective assigned to investigate alleged harassment: Stokes.

10/02 1:00 A.M.: Pam reports a prowler outside her home. No suspect apprehended. Renard interviewed regarding incident. Denies involvement. Expresses concern for Pam.

10/03: Renard comes to Pam's office, expresses concern for her in person.

10/09 1:45 A.M.: Pam again reports a prowler. No suspect apprehended.

10/10: On leaving house for school bus, Josie Bichon discovers the mutilated remains of a raccoon on the front step.

10/11: Renard comes to Pam's office again to express concern for her safety and for Josie's safety. Unnerved, Pam tells him to leave. Clients waiting to meet with her confirm her level of upset.