I Shall Not Want

'Yes,' Clare said. 'I'm willing to drop all charges. Go ahead.'

'No!' Russ turned toward her. 'That bastard could have killed you!' He scowled at the ADA. 'Neil and Donald Christie broke into her church and tried to beat the crap out of her. Look at her! Either one of 'em is twice as big as she is.'

Nguyen picked up a piece of paper. 'According to the Christies, they went into an open unlocked church seeking an acquaintance. When they tried to find him, Reverend Fergusson'-she looked over the top of the paper at Clare-'assaulted them with a large wooden staff.'

'The processional cross,' Clare said, realizing the moment she said it that only the worst sort of pedant would correct someone accusing her of attacking them.

'They claim Ms. Fergusson struck Donald unconscious, broke Donald's nose, and battered both of them with the-ah, cross.' She picked up five or six papers clipped together. 'Their attorney helpfully included the records from their admission at Washington County Hospital, which backs up this account of their injuries.' She almost smiled at Clare. 'If I'm ever in a dark alley someplace, I hope you're with me, Reverend.' She turned to Russ. 'Donald Christie then goes on to attest that before he had a chance to comply with your demand that he assume a prone position pursuant to arrest, you punched him several times in the face.' She rattled the hospital records. 'Also borne out by the medical evidence.'

'Look,' Russ began.

Nguyen shook her head. 'I don't want to hear it. If their attorney files this, our office will have a responsibility to investigate. Don't tell me anything.' She dropped the papers and braced her arms on the table. 'I read your report. And the Reverend Fergusson's statement. Believe me, I get the picture of what really went down. But this is going to be a bear to prosecute, Russ. The trespassing will never stick, they have good traction with the self-defense, and if we go ahead with resisting arrest, their lawyer's going to make damn sure the jury knows about their pending lawsuit against you. Which, I will point out, is going to cost the town a hell of a lot of money, even if you successfully defend yourself against judgment. Maybe-maybe-I can get a win on threatening, for a whopping five-hundred-dollar fine.'

He stared at his knees, shaking his head like a bull that had been gored one too many times.

'I'll drop the charges,' Clare said again. 'I'm fine, and Amado's fine, and that's the only thing that matters.'

'That's not the only goddam thing that matters,' he said, his voice low.

Clare risked laying her hand on his arm. 'Maybe not,' she said. 'But I'm not willing to-'

Buy my happiness with your marriage. She could see it in his eyes, the echo of the words she had said to him so many months before. Before his wife died. Before they had both been broken.

She inhaled. 'To see you endanger your job and the reputation of the police department.' She looked at the ADA. 'I don't need state-sanctioned punishment. As long as they stay away from Amado and me, I'm willing to drop the whole matter.'

Nguyen nodded. 'We can absolutely make that part of the deal.'

Russ snorted. 'Like a restraining order is going to stop those guys? Please.'

Nguyen steepled her fingers. 'I leave the enforcement up to you.'

He still looked deeply unhappy.

'If it makes you feel any better,' she went on, 'it appears they truly weren't after Ms. Fergusson. They indicated in their statements that your handyman'-she gestured toward Clare-'had been seeing their sister, and they wanted to speak to him. They didn't even know your name.'

The mechanics of dropping the complaint were simpler than Clare had feared. The assistant DA had already prepared the order of restraint, and all Clare had to do was sign it in front of one of the frazzled court clerks, who then stamped her notary seal on the paper and sent them out to wait. After half an hour, they were ushered into Judge Ryswick's chambers-the ADA had pointedly suggested Russ go out for a sandwich, and he had just as pointedly ignored her-and Clare got to repeat her account of the events of Friday night. Ryswick made a few disapproving tchs, jotted a couple of lines on the papers Nguyen had given him, and, after a long look at Clare that made her feel as if she must be guilty of something, approved the order.

She was back outside in the parking lot an hour after she had arrived, clutching a sheet of paper that was supposed to stand between her and the Christies. 'That was fast,' she said to Russ, who was scowling at the sunshine as if it were a personal affront. 'Who said, The wheels of justice grind slowly?'

'That wasn't justice,' he said. 'That was convenience.'

'I told you, as long as they leave me and Amado alone, I'm happy.' She glanced up at him, shading her eyes. 'Do you think they told the truth? About Amado dating their sister?'

He rubbed the back of his neck. 'Maybe. That would certainly clear up how they knew him. I haven't been able to figure out any other explanation. It's not like the kid's been out partying at the Dew Drop Inn.'

'So how did he meet the sister?'

'I dunno. You've spent more time with him than anyone else. Is he a Latin lothario?'

'Hardly. He strikes me more like Kevin Flynn, if Kevin had been born in a poor village in northern Mexico. Sweet, helpful, and can't say boo to a woman.'

'Huh. Not anymore. Friday afternoon I caught Kevin propositioning our new officer. Had to read them both the riot act.'

'Kevin Flynn? Propositioned Hadley Knox? I don't believe it.'

'Well.' Russ hitched at his gun belt. 'It was more along the line of asking to carry her books home from school. Which for Kevin is the equivalent of inviting her to meet him up against the wall in the alley. I laid down a blanket no-fraternizing rule.' He glanced back as the courthouse doors swung open, discharging a group of men and women suited in every hue from black to charcoal. 'I suppose I'll have to get the town's attorney to draw something up for us and make it all legal.'

She was facing away from the sun, toward the parking lot, while he was talking, which is why she saw trouble coming first. 'Uh-oh,' she said.

He turned. 'What?'

She gestured with her chin to the man ambling across the asphalt toward them. Sleeves rolled up, no jacket, tie loosely knotted-as he drew closer, she could see it had a picture of Snoopy on it-in this bastion of lawyers and defendants and witnesses, no one would mistake him for anything other than a reporter.

'Oh, crap on toast,' Russ said. 'Ben Beagle.'

VI

'Be nice.' Clare sounded like his mother.

'Nice? He printed a story in the Post-Star implying we spent the night together before I killed my wife! Do you know the circulation of the Post-Star? Twenty-five thousand! I looked it up.'

'Ssh.' She got the same look on her face he had seen on the times he'd been to her church: bright, open, welcoming. It wasn't fake, but it was certainly whitewashed.

'Hey! Chief Van Alstyne. Just the man I was hoping to see. You've saved me a trip to the MKPD.' Beagle pulled a small notepad from his pocket and clicked his pen, smiling as if Russ was an old army buddy who owed him a drink. 'What can you tell me about the two bodies found this past Sunday in Cossayuharie?'

'How do you know about that?'

Clare cleared her throat. 'Uh, Russ-'