LaMesha’s eyebrows lowered the moment she heard Jioni’s name. She felt sick; she felt angry. If only she had reported her during the collapsed building incident the first time. Maybe Jioni wouldn’t have done something like this. LaMesha’s head spun. As she thought about it more, her sympathy began to fade—Jioni was never Agent material—only an embarrassment. She pulled out Jioni’s ID card.
Just as she was about to speak, DaMarko cut her off. He must’ve sensed the fury within her.
His face then sagged. “Well. I, I mean, none of us, expect her to be a delinquent. We’ll find her, and bring her back safely. After all, she’s kind of like a sister to us.”
“Speak for yourself she’s not my sister,” LaMesha blurted out. “15 hours. It took her all but 15 hours to break our promise. Chance after chance, and some people will take it for granted.”
LaMesha scanned the room: Tracey folded her arms and nodded; Jolene was angry, her fists clutched; DaMarko, on the other hand, seemed confused, surprised even.
