Chapter 3

Sam Wyatt woke up. The bedroom was gray and chilly, but under the covers he was warm. Rolling onto his side, he looked at Cynthia. Her eyes were open. She turned her head toward him, and smiled sadly.

‘Didn’t you sleep? ’ he asked.

‘A little, I guess. ’

‘Worried about Eric? ’

She nodded. ‘I feel so damned rotten. ’ Her voice trembled on the last word, and she pressed her lips tightly together as if fighting not to cry.

Sam put a hand on the hot skin of her belly. Cynthia stroked the back of it.

‘You’re anything but rotten, ’ he said. ‘You did all you could to keep him …’

‘In the dark? ’

‘Protected. ’

‘I feel like such a slut. ’

Sam started to take his hand away, but she held it.

‘No, I don’t mean that, ’ she said. ‘With you … I’ve never felt so happy and alive. And clean. But Eric … he doesn’t know. You’re a stranger to him, and he must think his mom’s sleeping with a stranger. ’

‘You can tell him different. ’

‘I will. I just wish it hadn’t happened this way. I mean, what a way for him to meet you. ’ She shook her head. ‘It was supposed to be for his own good, you know? I didn’t want him knowing the men I dated – getting attached to them. That happened a couple of times, where he started looking on them as – like father figures. He was just devastated when these men suddenly disappeared from his life. I mean, it’s bad enough for an adult when a relationship ends. But for a kid who’s never had a father … I just couldn’t put him through that, anymore. It wasn’t fair to him. Maybe that was a mistake, I don’t know. But I think it saved him from a lot of heartache. ’

‘Maybe so. ’

‘Do you think I was wrong? ’

‘You didn’t have to protect him from me. I’m not going to disappear. ’

Her eyes went cold. ‘No? ’

‘No. ’

‘I’ve heard that before. ’

He looked into her accusing eyes. ‘Don’t blame me for what the others did. ’

‘I’m not. ’

‘Because I’m not them, I’m me. It’s bothered me for a long time that you didn’t want me to meet Eric. I just let it go, but it didn’t make me feel good to be kept hidden from him as if you’re afraid I’ll contaminate him. ’

‘He would like you, Sam. He’d …’ Cynthia’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘He’d fall in love with you, just like I did. ’

‘Would that be so awful? ’ he asked. He tried to smile, but his mouth trembled.

‘Yes, ’ she said. ‘If you ever left him. He’s been left so many times before. ’ She rolled onto her side, crying softly, and Sam took her in his arms.

‘I think I’d better stay home with Eric, tonight, ’ Cynthia said as they walked down the driveway.

A chilly wind was blowing. Sam liked the way it tossed her brown hair.

‘I’ll tell him about you, ’ she said.

‘Why don’t I take you both out to dinner, one of these nights? ’

‘We’ll see. ’

Frowning, he stepped to the rear of his car and looked down at a big X scratched into the paint of his trunk. ‘For Christsake, ’ he muttered. He ran a finger down one of the deep grooves.

‘That’s terrible. Did it just happen? ’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen it before. Somebody must’ve done it last night. ’

‘Kids, probably. ’

He stepped over to Cynthia’s VW, and looked it over. ‘At least yours is okay. ’

‘What kind of creep would do a thing like that? ’

Sam shrugged. ‘Somebody who recognized my car, probably, I’m not too popular with some of the people in town. I always keep it garaged, at home. My tires got slashed a couple of times when I was leaving it out. ’

She stared at the scratches. ‘I’m awfully sorry. ’

‘Well, these things happen. We’ve got a saying, “If you want to be loved, be a fireman. ”’

‘You think it’s because you’re a policeman? ’

‘More than likely. Well, I’d better be on my way. ’

‘Yeah. It’s time for me to wake up Eric. ’ She stepped into his arms.

He felt her shivering through the frail robe.

‘Call me tonight? ’ she asked.

‘Sure. ’ He kissed her. ‘You’d better get inside before you catch pneumonia. ’

He stopped at his duplex for a quick shower and shave, then drove to the station. The office was deserted except for Betty on the switchboard. She swiveled around to face him. ‘All quiet on the western front, ’ she announced, smiling.

‘Das ist gut, ’ Sam said. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and wished he’d grabbed something from the refrigerator before leaving home: a hunk of cheese, a hot dog. The coffee tasted wonderful. ‘Where’s Dex? ’ he asked.

‘I would hazard a guess that he’s on the way. ’

Sam glanced at the clock. ‘He’s never late. ’

‘Rarely. ’ She took a sip from her own coffee mug, and rubbed the lipstick print with her thumb. ‘In the twelve years I’ve spent laboring under his yoke, he’s been late only four times. Five, including today. ’

‘Absent? ’

‘Six days, four of them the week Thelma left. ’

‘Hangovers from celebrating? ’

‘That should’ve been the case, but it wasn’t. To look at him, you’d think the world had ended. Men can be so foolish when it comes to pretty women. ’

‘You should know. ’

‘Indeed I do. ’ At fifty-two, Betty was still a slim, good-looking woman. ‘And I’ll admit, I’ve occasionally taken advantage of starry-eyed men. My husband is a perfect example. ’ She laughed softly. ‘But there’s absolutely no excuse for a woman to behave like Thelma. Beauty doesn’t give one license to abandon common decency. It’s a crime the way she treated that man. ’

‘Speaking of crime …’ Sam finished his coffee, and rinsed out the mug. ‘I’d better hit the road. ’

‘Let me just ring up Dexter. ’

While she dialed, Sam unlocked the gun cabinet and took out a sawed-off Browning.

‘He doesn’t answer, ’ she said.

‘I’ll head over to his place. ’

‘Why don’t you? I know he’s only ten minutes late, but it’s so unlike him. ’

‘I’ll check, and let you know. ’

‘Thanks, Sam. ’

As he got into his patrol car, he half expected Dexter’s Firebird to swing into the parking lot. It didn’t, though, and he found his muscles tightening with worry as he drove out. He couldn’t imagine the chief over-sleeping. The big man had been raised on a farm, and often spoke of the built-in alarm clock that woke him at dawn, no matter what.

Car trouble, maybe.

Heart attack, whispered a corner of Sam’s mind.

He kept an eye on all the cars he passed, on those parked along the curbs. At a stop sign, he glanced at Ed’s Chevron. No Firebird.

For a moment, he wondered if the vandal who scratched the back of his own car had gone to Dexter’s house – maybe slashed Dex’s tires, or sugared the gas … That didn’t seem likely, but it was possible. A minor-league vendetta against the Ashburg PD?

Finally, easing around a corner, he came into sight of Dexter’s house and saw the chief’s re

d Firebird parked in the driveway.

He picked up the radio mike. ‘Car Five. ’

‘Go ahead, Car Five. ’

‘Chief’s car’s parked in his driveway. I’ll see if he’s home, Betty. ’

Sam walked up the driveway, giving the Firebird a quick inspection as he passed it. No flat tires, at least. Nothing unusual about its appearance.

He hurried to the front door and rang the bell. Dexter didn’t answer. Sam took a deep breath, and realized he was trembling. He jabbed the doorbell button again and again, then swung open the screen door and banged the wood with his knuckles.

What’s the use? He’s not home.

Or if he is, he’s on the floor dead of cardiac arrest. Or he ate his gun. No, Dex wouldn’t do that. Or would he? Or did someone break into the house last night, someone with a major-league vendetta?

None of the above, probably.

Sam tried the door knob. It turned.

Thank God. Dex’d blow his stack if I had to break in.

He stepped inside, automatically wiping his feet on the entry rug as he looked around.

‘Dexter? ’ he called. ‘Dexter, you here? ’

Beside the easy chair, a lamp was on.

Sam rushed through the living room and up a short hallway to the bedroom. The shades were drawn, the lamp on. It seemed so wrong, in daylight – like the shunned room of an invalid.

The bed was made.

Okay. Whatever happened, it was probably last night before Dex went to bed. Whatever …

‘Dexter? ’ Sam called again.

The house was silent.

He stepped around the end of the bed. He dropped to his knees, and glanced under it. Nothing there except the electric blanket control. He got up, and looked inside the closet. A few pairs of shoes were scattered on the floor, but the old Dingos weren’t among them.

He’s in uniform, then.

Sam shut the closet door. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants, took a deep breath, and felt a tightness in his bladder.

Damn, why hadn’t he locked the bathroom door, last night? Must’ve scared the hell out of that poor kid …

He left the bedroom.

He walked down the hall, past the open bathroom door.

Might as well take care of it now.
Stepping into the bathroom, he glimpsed himself in the medicine cabinet mirror. Looked damn edgy. He rubbed his face. He bent down, and lifted the toilet seat, and saw an eyeless face look up at him through the pink water, gray hair floating as if tugged by a strange wind, tongue lolling.

The lid banged down.

Sam backed against a wall, gasping. Hot fluid gushed up his throat. He covered his month. The sink was too far. He jerked open the shower curtain and bent over the tub and his teary eyes looked down on the blur of a split torso, detached arms and legs.

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