deep-set. Fine lines networked over the surfaces of the half-moon pockets of flesh beneath his eyes, and crowsâ feet sprouted from their corners. Smile lines extended downward from the sides of his nose to his jaw, cutting off the corners of his mouth. His nose was straight and unremarkable, he had a strong, square jaw, with a small roll of excess flesh beneath it, and dimples in his cheeks when he smiled.
He looked up from his book for a long moment at his wife, at her exquisite profile. She had the same strawberry-blonde hair heâd found so appealing twenty-eight years ago, although age had lightened it. The same angular face with those big blue eyes and that smile that sometimes turned into a provocative smirk that could improve his mood in a heartbeat. Still slender and shapely, with small breasts and long legs. There were a few telling lines in her face, of courseâshe had not escaped age entirely, but sheâd apparently made a deal with it, a deal in her favor, because she still looked damned good.
She looked over at him without turning her head, cocked an eyebrow, and smiled. He returned the smile, then continued reading.
Their fat black-and-white cat, Izzie, was curled up and sleeping on top of the television. Hurley thought it was one of Izzâs favorite spots because it made him feel as if he were the center of attention. He was an affectionate catâwhen he wasnât on top of the television, he was in Hurleyâs lap, or Ellaâs, purring contentedly.
To Hurley, having Izzie in his lap was very satisfying. He liked dogs, too, but dogs were always affectionate toward everyoneâto dogs, affection came naturally and unconditionally. But you had to earn a catâs respect. He knew that, when a cat came over and sat in his lap, it was because the cat really wanted to be there, and no other reason. Cats loved you unconditionally, too, but they only showed it when they wanted to, when they really meant it. And unlike dogs, they did not love everybody.
The phone chirped and Izzie lifted his head, looked at Hurley with sleepy eyes, and flicked his tail once, then lowered his head again.
Ella reached over and picked up the cordless receiver from its base on the lamp table between their chairs. âHello?â she said. After a moment, Ella said, âJust a second,â and held the phone out to Hurley. He took it, removed his reading glasses, put it to his ear.
âYes?â Hurley said.
âHey, Sheriff, itâs Garrett.â Billy Garrett was one of his deputies. âIâm at Sisters of Mercy.â
âWhatâs up?â
âAn ambulance just brought Emily in. She was attacked and raped tonight.â
â Our Emily?â
âYep.â
âOh, god.â
âI thought youâd want to know. Thought you might want to come down and get in on this yourself.â
Emily Crane was the receptionist at the Sheriffâs Office. She had been working there for almost eight years, and she almost felt like a member of Hurleyâs family. Theyâd invited Emily and Hugh and the kids to barbecues, had taken them on a picnic once. Emily had become more than an employee, she had become a friend.
âIâll get up there right away,â Hurley said. âSee ya.â He turned and put the receiver back on its base, then put the book and his glasses on the table beside the phone.
âSomething wrong?â Ella said.
âItâs Emily. Sheâs in the hospital. She was raped.â
Ella gasped and her crocheting hands dropped into her lap. âOh, Lord, no.â
ââFraid so.â He stood. âIâve got to go.â He went upstairs and put his uniform back on.
As he drove up to the hospital, Hurley thought about his two daughters. MBilly was twenty-six, Jennifer was twenty-four. He imagined how he would feel if what had happened to Emily happened to either of them. The very thought of it created an ache
Lindsay Paige, Mary Smith
Wilkie Collins, M. R. James, Charles Dickens and Others