She didn’t have to go far, so she walked. Somebody was bound to recognize her if she had the car...
Now Helen stood in the alley behind the house she was about to break into.
This was a lovely old neighborhood, the original wealthy section of the town back at the turn of the century. Lots of shade trees and refurbished Victorians and even a carriage house or two adjacent to the rear property lines.
If Helen had a time machine, that’s the era she would set it for... turn of the century, straw boaters for the men and big picture hats for the women... and spending idyllic hours floating downriver while your suitor strummed his banjo and sang “Moonlight Bay.”
Life seemed to have lost all its serenity and grace. If only she could have lived back then...
But right now there were other considerations.
Tightening her grip on her burglary tools, she hurried across the yard to the back door of the rambling old white Colonial.
She didn’t have long.
In and out.
That’s all there would be time for.
In and out.
She sure hoped she got lucky.
2
When Amy saw him, the first thing she did was look to the street. Maybe she could jaywalk and avoid talking to him.
But the traffic was too heavy. Even if she stood on the curb, he could come up and speak to her.
He’d called her three or four times in the past month, but she hadn’t returned any of the calls.
Now she would have to talk to him.
“I hear there’s a verdict,” Sam Bowers said.
“Yes,” she said. “That’s why I’m in a hurry.”
She had the perfect excuse to keep on walking, but he touched her arm and stopped her.
“You still carrying your gun?” he said.
She patted her purse. “I sure am.” Lately, all law enforcement people had been getting death threats from political extremists. Sam had convinced Amy, and others in her office, to learn how to fire a pistol — and to carry the pistol at all times. Amy went to the police firing range twice a week.
“I don’t suppose you want to hear this,” he said, “but I’ve missed you. A lot.”
“I’ve been very busy,” she said.
He took a long moment to study her.
Sam was the assistant chief of police, a sun-browned man whose rangy body and angular, wise face evoked the old-fashioned western hero. A western hero who appreciated Benny Goodman and collected film noir videos. These days, Sam wore dark suits, white shirts, and conservative neckties. He believed that law enforcement was a profession, not just a job, and he wanted his clothes and demeanor to convey that attitude. He was the first officer in the history of Crystal Falls to hold a bachelor’s degree in police science. Amy had always found the law enforcement thing a little bit amusing. Back when they’d gone to Crystal Falls High together, Sam Bowers had been a major troublemaker. Nothing serious, but he’d pulled an awful lot of pranks. He’d stayed that way, something of a smart-ass, until his first wife died at the ridiculously young age of twenty-six of melanoma. As Sam had said to Amy once, it had been a terrible cost to pay for growing up.
“I wish you’d have dinner with me, Amy. I think there are some things we should talk out.”
Remembering the incident that broke off their six months of dating, Amy felt anger heat her cheeks. “Unless you’re willing to admit that Steve Arnette overreacted, there’s nothing to say.”
“He didn’t overreact, Amy. He was just doing his job. Remember, I don’t like him either, but we’ve got to be fair about this.”
She smiled bitterly. “You really think we should have dinner, Sam? Look how angry I am already.”
“You need to step back, be a little objective about it is all, Amy.”
He looked at her a long moment. “I really have missed you. And I think you know that.”
She sighed, her anger waning. “I’ve missed you, too, Sam. A lot.”
His smile was immediate, and boyish. “Then for God’s sake, Amy, let’s drive to Iowa City some night next week and have dinner.”
“Sam,” she said. “Please listen to me. I said I missed you. But I didn’t say that I wanted to see you again. You’re not going to change your mind about that night, and neither am I. No matter what we do, that night’s always going to come between us. You’ll always believe Steve, and I’ll always believe Richie. So it’s better—”
She could see the pain in his chestnut-colored eyes. It was the same pain she felt now in her chest. She felt victimized by so many feelings — love, loss, anger, even the vestiges of lust. Sam was a good lover, kind and tender.
But to start it all over again...
“I need to go, Sam.”
“Think about it, Amy, and I’ll call you Saturday to see if you’ve changed your mind.”
She felt an almost intolerable sadness as she spoke her final words. “Please don’t call me anymore, Sam. It just makes it worse for both of us.”
Then she hurried off toward the courthouse.
She was down the block, waiting at a red stoplight, when she felt someone come up quickly next to her.
Sam said, “There’s a barn dance tonight. I’m going to be there. I hope to see you there, Amy. It won’t be a date so there won’t be any pressure.” He smiled. “But I finally learned line dancing the way you wanted me to. Maybe I can do a little showing off for you.”
She started to speak but he held up his hand.
“Don’t say no. Just think about it, all right? You can come there when you want, and leave when you want. I promise not to put any pressure on you.” He grinned. “But I have learned the tush-push.”
She had to smile at that one. “I’ll say one thing for you, Sam,” she said, feeling sentimental. “You’ve sure got a cute tush.”
“See, right there’s something we could spend the whole night talking about,” he said with a smile. “My tush.” His gaze grew serious again. “We really had something, Amy.”
That was one thing she’d always liked about Sam. No macho bullshit about hiding his feelings. He wasn’t ashamed to say what he felt.
“Please don’t call me anymore, Sam.”
He leaned away from her, as if her words had physically rocked him.
She walked quickly away from him, striding toward the courthouse.
She was just about to walk up the wide steps when she heard somebody call her name.
She looked to her right and saw Senator Cummings walking toward her. Even all buttoned up in a suit and tie, he managed to convey a Reaganesque and very casual manliness. He was a man who was comfortable with himself, and consequently comfortable with others.
“I take it you’re hurrying to court.”
She explained that there had just been a verdict.
“Well, I certainly won’t keep you, Amy. I just wanted to say hello.”
Though she was in a hurry, she wanted to thank him. “I got your roses for my birthday, Senator. They were beautiful.”
“Probably not as beautiful as you,” he said. “You’re looking lovelier than ever, Amy.”
She smiled. “You always say the right thing.”
“That’s because you haven’t heard me without my speech-writers.” Then, “By the way, how’s that brother of yours doing?”
Amy was a firm believer in public relations where Richie was concerned. Always put your best foot forward. For one thing, even if she’d felt like saying something negative, she would never betray Richie that way. He needed all the support he could get in this town. Every bit of it.
“He’s doing fine. He loves his job at the country club.”
“Good,” Senator Cummings said. “I knew he’d find himself someday. And by the way — you be sure and call the office one of these days and tell that sister of mine to schedule us all a dinner out at the house. As I remember, we had a darned good time the last time.”