I Shall Not Want

knuckles, sending an electric jolt to the base of her spine. 'I think if we go to him together and explain our relationship, he'll be okay. He's worried about somebody hassling you, not about two people-you know…' He blushed again.

She withdrew her hand. 'Flynn. Kevin. Look. We don't have a relationship.' She took a deep breath. 'Yesterday, the whole thing at the Christie farm was like a horrible nightmare for me. I needed some human warmth and comfort, some… proof that I was alive and whole and that there was still something good in the world.' She touched his arm. 'And you gave that to me. Thank you. It was wonderful. But it's not a relationship, and it's not going to happen again.'

He stared at her.

The ice-cream truck tinkled down the street, spilling calliope ragtime in its wake.

'I don't-' He stopped. Inhaled. 'Okay. Wait. How do you feel about me? Now?'

'I-uh, like you. You're a nice guy. I thought you were a nice guy before.'

He looked at her, baffled and desperate. 'I'm a nice guy? But we made love! It was transcendent! It was passionate! It was-it was everything!'

She closed her mind to the images his words conjured up. She did not want a relationship with this young man. 'It was sex, Flynn.' She forced a smile. 'You can't fall in love every time you have sex.'

His face changed. Flattened, maybe. His eyes took on a trapped expression.

'Flynn?' A dreadful possibility wormed into her brain. 'You weren't-you have had sex before. Right?'

He sat there, silent.

'Oh, shit.' She slapped her hand over her forehead. 'Don't tell me you were a virgin. Oh, my God.'

'You don't have to say it like that.'

'A twenty-four-year-old virgin. I didn't think it was possible.' She looked at him. 'Wait. If you were a virgin, how come you had condoms?'

His face was bright red. 'I'm inexperienced, not hopeless.'

'Oh, my God.' She stood up. 'Okay, that explains everything. You're not in love, Flynn, you're just pussy-struck. Get up.' She tugged at his T-shirt and he stood. 'Go home and take a cold shower. This weekend, go out to a club, pick up a girl your own age, take her home and everything you did to me? Do it to her. I promise you, she'll follow you anywhere and want to have your babies.' Her voice sounded brittle and shrill in her own ears. She shut up.

His handsome, open face was stiff. 'I'll go home,' he said. 'But I'm not picking up a girl my own age because I don't want a girl my own age. I want you. And I may not know much about sex, but I know how I feel, and I don't try to lie about it or cover it up or ignore it because it doesn't happen to coincide with some sort of preprogrammed image I've got in my head.' He turned away. Thudded down the steps to the walkway. Turned around. Came back up four steps. 'If you're still thinking about quitting the force, don't. You're a good cop, and we need you.' He turned. Went down the steps again. Stopped. Turned around and came back up three steps. 'I love you.' He stomped down to the walkway and was pulling out of the drive before she could begin to think of what to say to that.

She climbed back onto the swing, crisscrossing her feet beneath her. She stared at her half-empty glass of lemonade. The notebook. The package. She picked it up and ripped the paisley paper off.

FRACTION FLASH FOR FOURTH GRADE, the box said. Help your child master fractions in a flash!

She tipped her head back. Struck the porch rail with her heel and set herself rocking. Oh, Flynn. She held the flash cards tight against her chest. What am I going to do about you?

XX

Just before leaving to pick up the kids, she looked at her lists again. Read over the notes. Thought about what Flynn had said, not today, but way back. About putting on the suit. Becoming The Man. She went into the kitchen and called the station again. She waited while Harlene bellowed for Lyle to pick up the extension. She wondered if he was sitting in the chief's office, at the chief's desk.

'There's no change,' he said.

'It's not about the chief,' she said. 'It's about the Punta Diablo guys. The ones at the Christies.'

'What about 'em?'

'They didn't have a vehicle there. Did we pull any prints from the CFS caseworker's car?'

'No-o-o.'

'So they must have been dropped off. By their friends in the Hummer.'

'Don't worry. There's a warrant out for that car, and a BOLO on all the guys we think are linked to Punta Diablo. The First District AGTF is looking for 'em down in the city.'

'Did the Christie brothers give up the list?'

'They lawyered up. Wouldn't say anything except they didn't know nothin'.' He paused. 'Neil's still in county lockup, though. He'll be there until he gets his hearing on assaulting an officer. Maybe we can cultivate a snitch.' MacAuley's voice had taken on the considering tone she'd heard him use when he and the chief bounced ideas back and forth.

'It was just a thought, and maybe I'm off base, but as long as that list is somewhere up here, won't the Punta Diablos be around looking for it?'

MacAuley's voice was grim. 'That's what I'm afraid of.'

XXI

The congregation was standing to hear Elizabeth de Groot read the Gospel when the teenager walked into St. Alban's.

'And he called to him the twelve, and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits.'

The great double doors were open to a dazzling patch of sunshine, and just inside the sanctuary, a man-high industrial-strength fan oscillated north to south and back again. Clare, trying to focus on the reading, almost missed her in the movement and glare.

'He charged them to take nothing for their journey except a staff: no bread, no bag, no money in their belts.'

The girl halted, glanced around, clearly unsure of what to do. Frank Williamson, one of today's two greeters, went over to her.

'But to wear sandals and not put on two tunics.'

She said something to him. He nodded. Gestured toward one of the rear pews. The girl gazed about, wide-eyed, taking in the altar, the flowers, Clare, standing before the bishop's chair. She said something else to Frank, then turned and walked back into the square of light dividing St. Alban's from the outside world.

'And he said to them, 'Where you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place.' '

Frank Williamson walked up the north aisle in shining leather shoes that never made a sound. Clare watched him, dread squatting like a toad in the pit of her belly. It had been four and a half days since Russ came out of surgery, and he was still in a profoundly unconscious state no one wanted to call a coma.