Divine Evil

waitresses.”
    He picked up her hand to play with her fingers. “Do you miss it?”
    “Hmmm?” She lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “I haven't thought about it much. It's tough not having a bakery across the street, but the market has pretty good doughnuts.”
    He was frowning now, studying her fingers instead of toying with them. They were long, slender and artistic, like her. “Where do you live up there?”
    “I've got a loft in SoHo.”
    A loft in SoHo. That, too, was like her. Exotic and funky.
    “Have you ever been to New York?”
    “Couple of times.” He looked from her hand to her face. She was utterly relaxed, eyes closed, lips just parted, skin faintly flushed in the afterglow of sex. She hadn't bothered to pull up the sheet as some women would have, but lay over it, comfortably naked. He slid a hand over herbreast, down her rib cage, more to reassure himself than to arouse.
    “Did you like it?”
    “Like what?”
    She smiled again. “New York.”
    “It was okay. Like a fast ride in a crowded and overpriced amusement park.”
    His description made her smile widen. “A long way from the Emmitsboro annual carnival.”
    “Yeah. A long way. It's funny the way things work out—that you and I would both come back here and end up together.” He reached over to stroke her cheek. “I don't want you to go back to New York, Clare.” She opened her eyes again, and they were wary. “Don't tell me I'm moving too fast, because I feel like my life's on the line here.”
    “I wasn't going to say that. I don't know what to say.”
    “I don't want to lose you, and if you went back to New York, I couldn't go with you. I can't go back on the force.”
    “You're doing police work here.”
    “Yeah.” He sat up, reached for a cigarette. She wouldn't settle for half-truths or ultimatums. Why should she? he thought. He was going to have to tell her everything. “Nice, quiet little town. Or at least it was, and that's what I wanted.” He struck a match. That, too, was quiet, even harmless, with just the right friction. He watched the flame flare before he shook it out. “What I had to have. I came back here because I couldn't function as a cop in the city. I couldn't trust myself to go through the door with anyone again.”
    “Through the door?”
    “With a partner,” he said. “I couldn't trust myself to back up a partner.”
    She put a hand over his. “Why?”
    “I had a partner. We worked together for over three years. He was a good cop. And a good friend.”
    “Was?” she said and brought his hand to her lips. “I'm sorry. What happened?”
    “I fucked up, and he died.”
    “Nothing's that simple.” Suddenly cold, she picked up his shirt and pushed her arms through it. She knew what it was like to hold tight to hidden hurts, grow proprietary over them, nurse them inside like a miser with a dark, secret treasure. “Can you tell me?”
    “It's more like I have to.” But he was silent for a moment while a whippoorwill joined its song to the music of Johnnie Ray. “We were out doing some legwork on a case, and a call came through for a unit to respond to a disturbance.” He could hear the squawk of the radio, Jake's good-natured oath.
    Looks like you and me, Tonto.
    “An armed man taking potshots at parked cars and apartment windows in South East. We were only a couple of blocks away, so we took it. When we got there, the guy had some woman around the neck with a forty-five to her head. She was screaming.”
    He paused to take a pull on his cigarette. The moonlight flashed into high summer sun. Hazy heat. The stink of garbage.
    He could see it clearly, much too clearly. The color of the woman's shirt, the wild look in the gunman's eyes, the glitter of glass on the sidewalk.
    “He was on PCP, really raving. He dragged her into this building. It was abandoned, slated for demolition. We called for backup, and we went in. Jake didn't come out.”
    “Oh, Cam.”
    “The guy was pulling her up the steps. She'd lost a shoe,” he said softly. “Funny what you remember. She'dlost a shoe, and her heels were thudding on the steps as he dragged her up. Her eyes …” She had looked right at him, dark, dark eyes filled with terror and hope and pleading. “She wasn't screaming anymore, just crying. Begging. But he was screaming.
    I AM THE WAY, THE TRUTH AND THE LIGHT! I AM SALVATION! IF THINE EYE OFFENDS THEE, THEN PLUCK THE FUCKER O UT!
    “We went up the first landing.” He could hear the