Four Blind Mice

herself.
    Sampson took her hands in his. “I was wondering if I could have another cup of coffee,” he said.
    She laughed lightly and shook her head. “Are you always this gallant?”
    Sampson shrugged. “No,” he said. “I’ve never been this way in my whole life.”
    “Well, c’mon back inside.”

Chapter 56
    IT WAS ALMOST midnight, and Jamilla and I were up to our necks in the shimmering mountain pool that looked down on Phoenix in the distance and on the desert up closer. The sky over our heads seemed to go on forever. A big jet took off from Phoenix, and all I could think of was the tragedy at the World Trade Center. I wondered if any of us would ever be able to look at a jet in the sky without having that thought.
    “I don’t want to get out of this water. Ever,” she said. “I love it here. The desert sky goes on and on.”
    I held Jam close to me, felt her strong heart beating against my chest. The night desert air was cool, and it made being in the pool feel even better.
    “I don’t want to leave here either,” I whispered against her cheek.
    “So why do we do what we do? Live in the big city. Hunt killers? Work long hours for low pay? Obsess over murders?”
    I looked into her deep brown eyes. Those were good questions, ones I’d asked myself dozens of times, but especially during the past few months. “It always seems like a good idea at the time. But not right now.”
    “You think you could ever quit? Get past the adrenaline? The need to feel what you do matters? I’m not sure that I can, Alex.”
    I had told Jamilla that I was probably going to leave the police force in Washington. She nodded and said she understood, but I wondered if she really did. How many times had she faced down killers? Had any of her partners died?
    “So,” she said, “we’ve been beating all around it. What do you think about us, Alex? Is there hope for two cops off the beat?”
    I smiled. “I think we’re doing great. Of course, that’s just me.”
    “I think I agree,” Jamilla smiled, “too early to tell for sure, right? But we’re having fun, aren’t we? I haven’t thought about being a detective all day. That’s a first.”
    I kissed her lips. “Neither have I. And don’t knock fun. I could use a lot more of it in my life. This beats solving homicides.”
    “Really, Alex?” She grinned and pulled me close against her. “Is this good for you? Well, it’s good for me too. That’s enough for right now. I love being here. I love tonight. And I trust you, Alex.”
    I couldn’t have agreed more.
    At a little before midnight.
    In the mountainside pool overlooking Phoenix and the sprawl of the desert.
    “I trust you too,” I said as the big American Airlines jet passed right over our heads.

Chapter 57
    I GOT BACK to Washington on Sunday night at eleven. There was more of a bounce in my step and a smile plastered on my face. I’d forgotten about the rigors of the murder investigation for a couple of days, and Jamilla was the reason why.
    Nana was waiting up in the kitchen. What was this? She sat at the table without her usual cup of tea and without a book to read. When she saw me come in, she waved me over and gave me a hug. “Hello, Alex. You have a good trip? You say hello to Jamilla for me? You better.”
    I looked down into her brown eyes. They seemed a little sad. Couldn’t hide it from me. “Something’s wrong.” Fear had grabbed at me already. Was she sick? How sick?
    Nana shook her head. “No, not really, sweetheart. I just couldn’t sleep. So tell me about the trip. How was Jamilla?” she asked, and her eyes brightened. Nana definitely liked Jamilla. No hiding that either.
    “Oh, she’s good and she says hello too. She misses everybody. I hope I can get her to come east again, but you know, she’s a California girl at heart.”
    Nana nodded. “I hope she comes back,” she said. “Jamilla is a real strong woman. You’ve met your match with that one. I won’t hold it against her that she’s from out west. Anyway, I guess Oakland is more like D.C. than San Francisco. Don’t you think?”
    “Oh, absolutely.”
    I continued to look into Nana’s eyes. I didn’t get it. She wasn’t giving me a hard time the way she usually does. What was up? We were quiet for the next minute or so. Unusual for us. We usually jabber back and forth until one of us surrenders.
    “You know, I’m eighty-two years old. I never felt like I was seventy, or seventy-five, or even eighty.