uninspired. Blah, blah, blah.
Lilly had shot down his excuses like ducks in a shooting gallery. He had acknowledged his weaknesses and pledged never to stray again.
But the first affair was followed by a second. And then another, and soon heâd run out of even lame excuses. Now he realized that it wasnât his last affair that had spelled the beginning of the end of his marriage. It had been the first. He should have known that a woman like Lilly wouldnât tolerate unfaithfulness.
Wes was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. âThere for a time, you know, after Amy, when I was in a bad way, I looked for relief anywhere I could find it, with any woman who would say yes, and there were plenty of them. None of them could replace Lilly, though.â
âBullshit. You just havenât shopped long enough. Are you getting laid now on a regular basis?â
âWesââ
âOkay, okay, donât ask, donât tell. But what woman would look twice at you these days? If you donât mind my saying so, you look like crap.â
âThatâs what I feel like.â
âRight, and it shows. In your face, the way youwalk. Your buttâs dragging, my friend. You look about as much fun as a case of recurring herpes. That approach isnât going to attract the kind of woman you need right now.â
âWhat kind is that?â
âThe anti-Lilly. Stay away from brunettes with brown eyes.â
âHazel. Her eyes are really green with brown flecks.â
With a look, Wes scorned the detailed correction. âGet yourself a bleached blonde. Short, not tall. Big titties and a butt you can hold on to. A gal thatâs none too bright, without an opinion of her own except regarding your cock, which she thinks is a fucking magic wand.â Wes was pleased with his description of the perfect female; his entire face was involved in his grin.
âTell you what,â he said, âcome over to the house later. Weâll kill a bottle of Jack while considering your options. Iâve got a dirty video or two we can watch. Thatâll change your outlook, or you arenât human. Whaâdâya say?â
âIâm not supposed to be drinking, remember?â
âRules donât apply during an ice and snow storm.â
âWho said?â
âI did.â
It was nearly impossible to resist Wes at his most affable, but Dutch gave it an earnest try. He pushed the Broncoâs gearshift into reverse. âIâll have both hands full tonight, and then some.â
âCome over,â Wes said, wagging a stern finger at Dutch as he backed away. âIâll be looking for you.â
Dutch pulled back into traffic and pointed his Bronco toward the single-story brick building one block off Main Street that housed the police department.
Before finally being booted out of the Atlanta PD, Dutch had been required to see the departmentâs psychiatrist twice a week. Heâd told Dutch during one of their sessions that he was borderline paranoid. But what was that old joke? Just because youâre paranoid doesnât mean everybody still isnât out to get you.
He was beginning to think that everybody in the whole damn world had it in for him today.
When he entered headquarters and saw Mr. and Mrs. Ernie Gunn sitting in the waiting area, that cinched it. He must have a bullâs-eye painted on his back. Lilly, Millicent Gunnâs folks, the people of Cleary, even the weather had conspired to make this the worst day of his life.
Okay. One of the worst.
Mrs. Gunn, a rawboned sparrow of a woman on her best day, looked like she hadnât slept or had a meal since her daughterâs disappearance a week ago. Her small head poked from the collar of her quilted coat like that of a turtle from its shell. As Dutch walked in, she looked at him with naked despair.
He wasnât a stranger to that feeling. He empathized, all right.
Emma Daniels, Ethan Somerville