Karen Rose - Have You Seen Her?

"Why so glum?" Jenna asked, knowing Charlie needed no real reason. She was a pre-teen girl and that said it all.

"I hate sloppy joes," Charlie grumbled. "Why did Uncle Adam pick that for his favorite?"

Jenna looked down with a fond smile. "You don't know?"

Charlie puckered her lips. "If I knew I wouldn't be asking, would I?"

Jenna ruffled her short hair. "Sarcastic little brat," she said affectionately. "Your uncle picked sloppy joes because your mom's such a terrible cook he figured it was the only thing she couldn't totally ruin." Jenna leaned close and whispered, "He liked spicy Chinese food the best." A memory hit, so clearly it took her breath. The tiny apartment they'd shared after grad school, Adam, hale and hearty, sitting in their bed with a carryout carton in one hand and chopsticks in the other, wearing only his glasses and a broad smile at something she'd said. She remembered thinking she'd be happy with nothing else as long as she had him.

Charlie brought her back to reality with an amused chuckle and the memory slipped away like a wave going back to the sea. Wait , Jenna wanted to scream, but knew it was a fruitless waste of energy. Adam was gone. She no longer had him. And she'd learned to be happy anyway. She had.

"He really said that about my mom's cooking?"

Jenna swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. "Really."

"And I thought I was the only one."

She swallowed again, willing away the emotion that threatened to overwhelm. "You're not." She pulled herself to her feet. "But this means a lot to your mom, so let's go."

Saturday, October I, 7:00 P.M.

"You wanted to see me, Dad?"

Victor Lutz looked up from the ledgers he'd been reviewing. Rudy stood in the doorway of his home office, the breadth of his shoulders completely filling the opening. His son was a handsome boy. Dark hair, bronze skin, strong jaw. Got his looks from his side of the family, thank God. "Yes, Rudy, come in and sit down. Did I also hear your friends out in the hall?"

Rudy sat down in one of the rich wine leather chairs and slid into a slouch. "Yeah, we're going down to the Y to lift weights." He winked. "Gotta keep my throwing arm in shape for next week."

"Yes. That's a good idea. Rudy, we need to talk about this problem at the school."

Rudy's smile faded. "I thought you fixed it."

"Blackman promised you'd play next week. But I'm not certain he'll keep his word."

Rudy was frowning by this time. "What are we going to dor?" Victor shrugged. "Depends how highly your teacher values her principles."

Rudy's expression went blank and Victor sighed. Got his looks from his side but unfortunately Rudy's brains came straight from Nora. God help the boy if he ever lost football, because he sure as hell wasn't going anywhere on the force of his intellect.

"Whaddya mean, Dad?"

"Let's be direct, Rudy. I heard her tires got slashed yesterday."

Rudy sat up straighter in the chair. "Now I had nothin' to do with that," he said quickly. "The boys, they did it all on their own. Kinda like a show of support."

"Of course. That's the 'kinda' thing that may make her change her mind-and your grade."

Rudy's eyes went narrow. "You mean, it's cool?"

"It's cool, Rudy. She's a teacher, for God's sake. How much can she realistically afford to replace? Tell your friends to keep it up, and you stay as far away from them as possible. Tell them to just keep it discreet." He leaned back in his chair with a frown. "You do understand discreet?"

Rudy gracefully rose to his feet, white teeth flashing against his tanned face in a bold grin. "It means don't get caught."

"Exactly." Victor watched his son amble toward the door, the picture of a cocky boy with the world by the tail. "Rudy?"

Rudy paused at the door, his hand on the knob. "What now?" he asked, his expression a familiar mix of teenaged sarcasm and boredom.

"Don't mention this to your mother or Josh." Nora was so unpredictable, it was hard to tell how she'd react to such a plan. Josh, well, he was predictable all right. Predictably slow-witted. Left on his own, Josh would probably lead police right to Rudy and his friends with the tire-slicing knife still in their hands. No one could believe Rudy and Josh were brothers. That they were fraternal twins was a detail Rudy would never even have to bother to deny should it ever come up. It never would, if Victor had anything to do about it. Josh had the misfortune to take his brains and his looks and his athletic capability from Nora's side of the family. Josh had once shown promise as having some measure of intelligence, but even that seemed to evaporate at the onset of puberty. Now he had trouble remembering his own name most days. It was better to keep him away from anything of any importance whatsoever.

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Rudy rolled his eyes in disgust. "Like I'd let that retard anywhere near me. I don't think so." But when he pulled open the door, Josh stumbled in, red-faced and stuttering an apology.

Victor tightened his fists on top of his desk. Well, fuck. He might as well have had Nora in the room, too, because Josh would go straight to her when this conversation was over. Unless Josh somehow became locked in the root cellar… for the rest of his life. The idea unfortunately was only a fantasy-a recurring fantasy with immeasurable appeal. "Well, Josh? What do you want?"

Josh straightened and tried for dignity. And of course failed. "It's wrong," he said, haltingly. "She's a nice lady, Dr. Marshall."

Rudy snorted. "So nice she's ruining my chances to be recruited by that college scout."

To Victor's surprise, Josh met his eyes with a full stare. "Rudy failed. He should have to follow the rules like everybody else." Then grunted in pain when Rudy shoved him up against the door frame, one strong hand around Josh's throat, lifting Josh an inch off the ground.

"I don't follow the same rules, turd," Rudy ground out. "Remember that, if you can."

Josh gasped for air and Victor said mildly, "Let him go, Rudy."

Rudy abruptly stepped back, threw Josh a baleful glare, then stalked from the room. Josh sagged back against the door frame, huffing and puffing.

"Don't be stupid, Josh," Victor said softly and went back to his ledgers.

Saturday, October I, 9:30 P.M.

Steven closed the door to Interview Two behind him and came to a stop next to ADA Liz Johnson who looked like she'd been thoroughly enjoying herself. "Sorry I had to drag you all the way down here for nothing, Liz," he said and she grinned.

"Don't be sorry. Watching you finesse the sorry piece of shit Gerald Porter was worth my gas money. I think the real fireworks will happen when the Porters get young Gerald home tonight."

Steven leaned against the glass, on the other side of which Mr. Porter was ominously promising the sorry piece of shit Gerald that he'd pay for his sins.

"Too bad the only thing we can really get him for is carrying an illegal ID," he said glumly. "The bar where I found him conveniently hadn't noticed their sixteen-year-old patron was carrying the ID of a forty-five-year-old Hispanic man."

Liz patted his shoulder as she had on countless occasions before. "Well, Mrs. Porter seems to have been a mite put off by the fact Gerald dumped Samantha because she wouldn't sleep with him. I think he'll be sufficiently punished."

"But I wanted a murder suspect," Steven grumbled. "Not a candidate for asshole of the year."

"You'll get one, honey. Come on, I'll buy you a beer."

Steven smiled and pecked her cheek. "You're a good woman, Liz. Why hasn't some man snatched you up?"

Liz shrugged into her jacket. "Well for starters, I don't have a fairy god-aunt like Helen to handpick me a man. And for finishers, I work too damn much."