'Guess I'd better let you get dressed,' Abby said, 'or you'll be late for work.'
'Work can wait.'
'Can it?'
'Definitely.'
He removed her clothes slowly, taking his time with each button and strap. Her body had always amazed him. Even before she had begun her training and conditioning, she'd had the supple, sinewy figure of an athlete, but without an athlete's unnatural hardness. 1% He did not take off his robe or even untie the belt.
He simply swept back the flaps and entered her, his hands at her waist, lifting her as her back arched and he pushed deeper, and at the moment of release his eyes met hers in a fraction of a seconds contact.
When it was done, he kissed her smooth neck and one earlobe that poked out coyly from her tangled hair, and in her ear he whispered, 'This time I think we both knew I would fit.'
'Never doubted it,' she breathed.
They lay there together in the morning sunlight, silent, exhausted. A long time later, but still too soon, he said, 'I really do have to get to the office.'
'I should go too,' Abby whispered sleepily.
'No, you rest, catch a little shut-eye. I think you could use it.'
'Ten minutes, maybe. A catnap.'
'Sure.'
'Wake me when you leave.'
'I will.'
But he didn't. By the time he was dressed, she lay fast asleep, and it seemed pointless to disturb her. He placed a spare key on the bureau so she could lock up when she left. Then he stooped and kissed her forehead.
'Sleep tight, Abby' Her lips formed a smile, and he felt sure she was dreaming of him.
In early afternoon, a few hours before the start of his shift, Wyatt drove to the Hollywood Reservoir, where Detective Sam Cahill was waiting for him.
'What'd you want to talk about. Vie?' Cahill asked after the usual manly clapping of shoulders and pumping of hands. Cahill had worked Hollywood Division before being bumped upstairs to Robbery Homicide in Parker Center. He and Wyatt had gone fishing at Lake Arrowhead a couple of times, but since the transfer they hadn't seen much of each other.
'Remember the Emanuel Earth case?' Wyatt asked.
It was in connection with Earth that he had first met Abby Sinclair, She had come to him, asking questions about Earth's past.
'Yeah, I remember.' Cahill nodded slowly. He was a big man with bushy eyebrows that met in the middle, forming a single, furry line.
'It's old news by now.
Why bring it up?'
'I wanted to know how Earth got nailed the second time-you know, the arrest you handled. I was on vacation when it happened. Never heard the details.'
'What's it been, a year? That was one of the last cases I worked before I moved downtown. What do you care, after all this time?'
'Humor me.'
Cahill shrugged.
'Sure, what the hell. I got nothing better to do except fight crime.'
He looked out at the reservoir, its clear water reflecting the perfect blue sky.
'Say, you think the city could stock this lake with bass? Wouldn't be a bad place to drop a fishing line.'
'Why don't you raise the issue with the City Council?'
'Might just do that. Okay, Mr. Emanuel Barth. Well, he got nailed on account of outstanding detective work by yours truly, as usual.'
'Save it for Ed O'Hern at Channel Eight. What's the real deal?'
'Dumb luck. We didn't have shit on Barth, weren't even looking at him, and then a nine-one tip comes out of the blue, telling us he's got a stash of stolen goods in his house.'
'What kind of goods?'
'VCRS, PCS, jewelry, portable computers. You know how he had a prior for breaking into rich people's homes and vandalizing their stuff?
Well, after he did his time, he went back to doing break-ins, only he got smart. He started wearing gloves to leave no prints, and taking the valuables instead of trashing them.'
'What was the merchandise doing in his house?
You'd think he would've fenced it.'
'His MO was to accumulate a big haul, then fence it all at once. Maybe he got a better deal that way or he thought it minimized the risk, I don't know.'
'So who gave you the nine-one tip?'
'Anonymous female.'
'Any idea who?'
'Probably Barth's housekeeper. That's always been my theory, anyway.
She came into his house twice a week to pick up after him. I figure she stumbled across the stuff while she was cleaning and realized it was hot.'
'Why was it just a theory? Wouldn't she talk to you?'
'I never found her. She must've amscrayed out of town after making the phone call. I'm guessing she was worried the charges against Barth wouldn't stick, and he'd come after her. They stuck, though. He's tucked away safe and sound.'
'Had she worked for him long?'
'The housekeeper? Just a month, I think.'
'What was her name?'
'Hell, I don't know anymore. Wait a minute, it's coming back to me.
You know, if my wife was here, she'd say an elephant never forgets.
That would be in reference to a few pounds I've put on over the years.'
'The name?' Wyatt prompted.
'Connie Hammond. Fairly common name, hard to track down. We didn't bust our asses trying to find her.'
Wyatt nodded slowly.
'Connie Hammond.'
Cahill gave Wyatt a hard look.
'You wouldn't happen to know Miss. Hammond's whereabouts, would you.
Vie?'
'Me? No.'
'Cause I'd still like to chat with her, just for the record.'
'Never met the lady.'
'Right. Sure you haven't. You don't know shit. And this whole conversation, dragging me out here on a Friday afternoon to this friggin' mud hole-it's all just an exercise in intellectual curiosity on your part.'
Wyatt met his gaze.
'Exactly, Sam. That's what it is.'
They talked a little more, about fishing and Cahill's wife and a homicide in the Valley that was taking up most of the detective's time.
Then Cahill was on his way, and Wyatt was left alone, looking at the water.
The reservoir was a peaceful spot, a haven for joggers and power walkers and people who wanted someplace tranquil to visit on their lunch break.
He came here fairly often to escape the grit and gridlock of the city, and to think. He had a lot to think about right now.
