“So tell us what you remember,” Michael urged.
“I was new to vice then, but some of the older guys had gotten word somewhere that there was a teenage-hooker ring operating through a woman in Parkside.”
“Parkside?” Amanda echoed in shock. “But that’s always been a middle-class neighborhood.”
“Yeah, I know,” Hadley said. “But the story was that this woman was catering to a middle-class clientele, with the girls and with coke. Remember, in the midseventies, coke was big with the upwardly mobile. Or maybe you don’t remember, since you were just a kid then.”
“You’re sure there were no arrests, either for prostitution or for drugs?” Michael asked.
“Pretty sure. I can remember one of the guys saying that it wasn’t likely because of the type of clientele she had. The department wasn’t exactly squeaky-clean back then, you know.”
He shrugged. “There’s a couple of retired guys I can check with, and I’ll have our clerk go back through the records. But I’m not sure we’ll come up with anything.”
“Is THERE ANYTHING new on the skeleton from the island?” Lise Verhoeven asked after she set aside her menu.
“Not really,” Amanda answered. Lise already knew about the two phone calls she’d received. “We thought we might turn up something from old vice-squad records, but it didn’t pan out. And the retired detectives Lieutenant Hadley contacted didn’t remember any more than he did about that teenage-prostitution and drug ring.”
They ordered dinner, then continued to sip wine. Lise had come up from the city for the weekend because there was a party scheduled for her grandmother’s eightieth birthday.
“Father is really upset about it,” Lise said, shaking her head. “I never knew him to be so...territorial about the island.”
“Well, it did happen practically in his front yard,” Amanda argued, thinking that she would probably be more upset than she already was if they’d unearthed a skeleton in her own yard.
The truth was that the case was beginning to fade a bit for her. The anonymous caller had never phoned back. Michael didn’t appear to be getting anywhere in his investigation. And when she’d gone out to the island for the day last weekend, construction had resumed on the new cottage.
In addition to that, she had several important cases on her hands, one of her assistants had just handed in his resignation and she had a campaign to plan.
In short, twenty-year-old skeletons just weren’t high on her list of priorities right now, and she was sure the same could be said for Michael, though she knew him too well to believe that he’d given up.
Lise started to say something, then stopped and stared at something behind Amanda. A moment later, she was shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
“I guess I should be very grateful that I’m not living here any longer,” she said with a smile.
“What do you mean?” Amanda asked, casting a quick glance behind her, but not turning all the way around.
“Two words-Michael Quinn. He just came in with some woman. I can’t believe how well I remembered him—and how little he’s changed, except that he dresses a lot better.”
Michael with a woman? Now she had to turn around, even if she was being a masochist. Fortunately, Michael had his head turned toward their server and didn’t see her staring.
She only got a quick look at the woman with him, but Amanda was nevertheless surprised. Not only did the woman appear to be older than Michael, but she was also very plain—bordering on ugly, in fact. Definitely not the sort she’d seen him with in the past.
“I never told you that I had a thing for him, did I?” Lise asked, still smiling. “Of course, nothing ever happened.”
“I did, too,” Amanda admitted. “Probably every girl in school had a crush on him.”
“What’s he like?”
Amanda sighed. “That’s a lot harder to answer than you might think. In some ways, he’s just what you probably expect him to be—brash, aggressive, too...male. But he’s also very bright and...well, sometimes, there’s a gentler side to him.”
Lise had cocked her head to one side, frowning. “Uh-ob. You haven’t gotten over that crush, have you?”
“Maybe not,” Amanda admitted. “But I’m not going to do anything about it, either.”
Lise was too old and too close a friend not to recognize that end-of-discussion tone, so they talked of other things over dinner: Lise’s recent promotion, which would entail considerable travel, Amanda’s reluctant campaign for district attorney and, of course, Jesse. Lise had always been caught between them, since she was exactly midway between them in age. Jesse resented Lise’s closeness to Amanda, but Amanda welcomed Lise’s friendship with Jesse, which she privately called “sharing the burden.”
“So you still don’t know what’s going on with her, either?” Lise asked, after describing her last phone call from Jesse.
“No. She’s been calling me nearly every day, but all she wants to talk about is her business and the body from the island.” Amanda sighed.
“That’s always been her pattern with me. She calls constantly when she’s in trouble, but she finds something else to talk about. And no matter how carefully I try to bring up the real problem, she just gets defensive and hangs up.”
“Mmm. She does seem to be obsessing about the body. She’s brought it up with me, too.” Lise paused, frowning thoughtfully. “Is it possible that she could know something about it?”
Amanda gave her a startled look. “How? What do you mean? She was away at school when it happened—if the forensics people are right, that is.”
“No, she wasn’t—remember? If it happened around the time of the accident, she was home. She had mono and missed that semester.”
“Oh.” Amanda realized immediately that Lise was right. “But even if she was home, how could she know anything?”
“Look, we both know she was sneaking out at night to party, even though she was supposed to be resting. That’s why it took her so long to recover. And she didn’t always hang around with the best people, either. That’s when she started to use drugs.
Lise shrugged. “I’ll admit that it’s pure speculation on my part. I never heard anything about her and her friends partying on the island, but she was definitely hanging around with a bad crowd that spring.”
“I don’t think they were going to the island, though. Mr. Thompson said he’d never found evidence of kids partying out there. He told Michael that, too.”
“So maybe Jesse was just being very careful.”
Amanda doubted that, but she couldn’t quite dismiss the possibility that Jesse might know something. She certainly wasn’t going to tell Michael about it, but perhaps she’d better find a way to talk to Jesse.
As luck would have it, Michael and his date were leaving the restaurant at the same time as Amanda and Lise. Amanda could not avoid acknowledging his presence, which then prompted introductions. It turned out that Michael’s date was the person he’d recently hired to run his software company: an old classmate and a former neighbor.
When he explained who she was, Amanda saw the wicked gleam in Michael’s dark eyes, and knew that she hadn’t managed to be as casual about his presence there as she’d thought. And just for good measure, he managed to throw in a comment about the woman’s husband and children.
It was one of those times when Amanda could all too easily imagine herself becoming violent where Michael was concerned. She knew he was taunting her, letting her know that he knew she’d been jealous.
She wanted only to escape, but Lise seemed all too willing to stand there and chat with Michael and his date, so it was a long five minutes before the group broke up.
“Would you care to revise your earlier statement that there’s nothing going on between you two?” Lise said as soon as they were in Amanda’s car.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Amanda said, though of course she did. Maybe their colleagues didn’t notice the tension between them, but
Amanda wasn’t surprised that Lise had picked up on it.
Lise laughed. “Okay, I won’t pry. I’ll just sit here and envy you.”
AMANDA DROPPED LISE OFF at her grandmother’s house, then drove home feeling guilty. They’d always been so close, and yet she couldn’t seem to bring herself to talk to Lise about Michael. Maybe, she thought with a sigh, it was because she just didn’t know what to say. When Michael had said that she “messed with his head” and she had replied in kind, she, at least, had spoken the truth.
And perhaps Michael had, as well. She didn’t know. Certainly he seemed to be able to handle it better than she was. And despite that threat he’d made, he hadn’t shown up on her doorstep yet.
He had parked in a visitors’ space, and she was so lost in her thoughts that she failed to notice the Porsche until she got out of her car and he called her name. She turned, her breath catching in her throat.
He walked over to her, then stood there, his hands jammed into his pockets, watching her but saying nothing. The silence went on too long, and she felt compelled to end it.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked, then immediately began to worry that he’d read more into the invitation than she’d intended. Or at least more than she’d consciously intended. Desire was already whispering through her, drowning out everything else in the process.
He followed her inside, and she offered him a drink. He asked for coffee instead, saying that he still had to make his rounds in the Bottom.
She glanced at him, wondering if that remark had been made to reassure her. But he was wearing his bland cop face, so she couldn’t be sure, which was generally the case where he was concerned.
They talked of inconsequential things while the coffee brewed, strings of words punctuated with heavy silences that were driving her crazy but seemed not to bother him.
When the coffee was ready, she suggested they sit in the living room, which seemed to her to be far less intimate than the kitchen. He seated himself on one end of the sofa, but instead of taking the other end, she sat down in a chair, putting more space between them. A smile tugged at his wide mouth, but he said nothing.
“Michael, the silent treatment probably works well on your suspects, but it annoys me. Why are you here?”
He let the silence go on for another long moment, during which she forced herself to meet his gaze. She knew that he wouldn’t suddenly jump up from the sofa and sweep her into his arms and carry her upstairs, but it still felt like he might do that.
“I finally got around to going over to talk to Butch today,” he said after a time.
It took Amanda a moment to realize he was referring to the man who ran the marina at Mann’s Landing on the far side of the lake. Michael had said that Butch knew everything there was to know about the lake and its visitors.
“He said he’s been doing a lot of thinking and he seems to recall that John Verhoeven—Lise’s father—was spending some time out there then, during the winter and spring, when no one else was there. But he wasn’t really sure about the years, just that it was around that time.”
Amanda frowned in thought, having some difficulty switching gears. She was also aware of a certain disappointment, even though she’d just been swearing to herself that nothing was going to happen.
After thinking about it for a few minutes, she realized that Use’s parents had split up the winter following her accident. So if the forensics people were right, their marriage might well have been in trouble at that time.
Then she recalled, with a sudden chill, Use’s mentioning that her father seemed almost obsessed with the body.
She told Michael the first part of it, suggesting that he might well have gone out there to escape for a time from a marriage going bad. She did not mention his interest in the investigation.
“What do you know of their problems?” Michael asked. “Is it possible that he could have gotten involved with someone and was taking her out there?”
Amanda shook her head quickly. “I suppose he might have found someone else, though I never heard anything like that But he’d never have gotten involved with...” she hesitated, about to say a prostitute, but fearful of sounding elitist.
“A hooker?” Michael shook his head and chuckled. “Sometimes you amaze me. Who do you think are the customers? The poor can’t afford to pay for sex, Amanda. Maybe you should ride along with me down to Maple Street and see all the Beemers and Mercs and Lexuses. They don’t all belong to drug dealers.”
“You don’t know John Verhoeven,” Amanda said, ignoring his taunt “He’s about as likely to do something like that as my father is. As far as his marriage goes, all I can remember is what I overheard my parents saying. Sara, Lise’s mother, was always...fragile. Emotionally, I mean. Even as a child, I knew there was something not quite right about her.
“Lise never blamed her father for the breakup. She said that he’d tried for years to get her mother some help, but she always refused. After they split up, Lise’s grandmother stepped in and her mother was sent away to a private psychiatric facility for a year. It was obviously what she needed. When she came back, she was much better.”
“That sounds to me like a damn good reason why he might have been looking for some emotional support elsewhere,” Michael said.
“I suppose that’s possible, but I’m sure it wouldn’t have been a teenage prostitute.”
“I’m going to have to talk to him—in person this time. I know he lives in the city, but is he up here for the party Lise mentioned?”
“Yes. He’s staying at the family home—Lise’s grandmother’s place.”
Michael finished his coffee and stood up. “Look, I’m trying to take it easy on these people. But this is a murder investigation, and like it or not, they’re going to have to answer questions.”
She stood, as well. “I know that—and I want you to find out who killed that girl. But I know you’re wrong to be looking at the families on the island.”
She followed him to the door, where he stopped. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be looking at them a hell of a lot harder, you know.”
She heard his words, but what really struck her was his tone: the softness and gentleness that was so at odds with his normal voice.
She could think of nothing to say to that, and her gaze slid away from his. They were standing close together: too close. She felt—or imagined that she felt—the heat of him reaching out to her.
Then it was his hand reaching out to cup her chin and draw her face up to his. She made a small sound, and her lips parted to blend with his in a kiss that was all she remembered: soft, persuasive, filled with a subtle promise.
He was the one who withdrew, leaving her lost in a world of sensations that drained away very slowly as he reached for the doorknob. Her hands went back to grasp the edge of a table in the foyer. For a moment, neither of them moved, and Amanda had the crazy thought that each of them was clinging to something to avoid being swept into a maelstrom created by their own passions.
“It’s still there,” he said in a husky tone. “Someday, we’re both going to have to face up to that.”
And then he was gone, once again leaving the echo of his words to torment her.
“TALK ABOUT looking for needles in haystacks.” Jeff Green shook his graying head. His longish ponytail shifted about.
Amanda pushed back from the computer keyboard and took off her glasses. “I know. And the worst part of all is that I could easily see the name and it won’t mean anything. Already, I’m finding that I don’t remember a lot of them, unless they’ve been repeats or particularly serious crimes.”
“Well, I’m calling it a day—or night, actually. Just turn off the lights and lock up when you leave.”
“I will—and thanks, Jeff, for letting me work on this.”
He chuckled. “You owe me one—and you know I’ll be there someday to collect.”
She heard the outer door close, and then she was alone in the public defender’s warren
of offices, thinking about her foolishness in being here in the first place.
It hadn’t taken her long to realize how many of her former clients she’d forgotten, despite the fact that she’d been a conscientious defender of their rights.
She was at the keyboard for hours, until her eyes began to glaze over and she realized that she wasn’t likely to recognize her own name, let alone the name of a defendant with a lisping relative.
The cases were all there, but the system wouldn’t permit her to select only her own cases—or even just cases that had come in during her time in the office. Instead, they were alphabetized by last name, with nothing more than a summary of charges and the disposition of the case. In three hours, she’d gotten through the As and partway through the Bs. It was hopeless.
It also made her aware of the inequities in a supposedly fair judicial system. In the D.A.’s office, their retrieval system was far more sophisticated, allowing for retrieval by date or by type of crime—or by prosecutor. The pay was much better and the caseloads were lighter, too. She decided that if she won the election, she was going to join with Jeff to demand more funding for the public defender, which would probably cause heart attacks among her law-and-order political colleagues.
She left the office and drove home, her mind still on the evening’s work. Given her job and the necessity to plan her campaign, it could be a month or more before she’d be able to get through all of her old P.D. cases.
It was a waste of time, and she knew she was foolish to be pursuing it. But after beginning to recede from her mind, that twenty-year-old murder was back to haunt her.
First of all, there was that enigmatic phone call—or rather, Michael’s reaction to it when she’d given him her notes. She knew that something about that last line was troubling him. She’d seen it in his expression just before her secretary announced Sam Hadley’s arrival. But when he’d said nothing more, she hadn’t raised the issue again.
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