Chapter 28

Sunday, July 4, 1:20 p.m.

"I've decided to cook lunch at home," Madeleine said, as they finished their second round of coffee.

"It'll take a little while, but with eight hours' drive, coming and going, I don't think you need to drive around Greensboro taking me to lunch."

"You're so persuasive," Sam replied, "you ought to consider law school."

"I hear you considered law school yourself," Madeleine answered. They had been happily engaged in getting better acquainted since Sam's arrival and Madeleine's ice-breaking reassurances that he was welcome.

"Two years," Sam sighed. "Two years of really interesting study, followed by a summer of doubt that I wanted to actually apply my legal training by going out and being a lawyer. I've never regretted the time. It's been helpful in my police work, and I think it's made me a better cop. It's certainly made me more tolerant of lawyers."

"'Funny how unpopular lawyers have become," Madeleine mused. "I can understand it. I see the television ads run by personal-injury lawyers and I want to reach into the screen and throttle the little creeps."

"There's an ad down our way that really does me in," Sam laughed. "These two Yuppies are sitting at a big library table stacked with law books, ties all ripped open, and one of them is on the phone to his wife, saying, 'Yes, dear, I know it's late, but I'll be home as soon as we finish working on this case.' You're supposed to admire these dedicated lawyers, fighting for Truth and Justice. Ychtttch!"

"Still," Madeleine said, "I know a lot of pretty decent lawyers. My sister's married to one, and he's a first-class guy. It's kind of a shame how they all get painted with the same giant brush."

"When I was in law school," Sam said, "I felt like I was getting excellent training to graduate and move right onto the U.S. Supreme Court. Even with just the two years, I believe -- even now -- that I could sit up there, vote, write opinions, the whole nine yards, without particularly embarrassing myself or appearing incompetent.

"What I didn't get in law school was the feeling that I could go down to city court and competently defend some poor schmuck for a moving violation. Law school was strange -- kind of exalted. Other-worldly. They crammed us full of philosophical principles, but with very little instruction about which end of the courtroom the judge is supposed to sit. You get almost nothing on the practical side. That's why every young lawyer I've ever known haunts the Office of the Clerk of the Court -- trying to find out how to file a motion or something."

"Being a cop is 'way better," Madeleine agreed. "There's plenty of criminal procedure for us to get down, but mostly, investigative work is practical, common-sense stuff. And it can be a challenge."

"That's what's troubling in this case," Sam said, allowing himself to talk shop for the first time that day. "We've done all the practical, common-sense things we're supposed to do, and nothing's working. I guess what's happening is, rural cop gets a criminal case that's a little out-of-the-ordinary, and he can't hack it. It's a murder not committed by a spouse, or a boyfriend, and there's more involved than just rounding up the usual suspects. We still have no decent line on this guy, and it's getting to me."

"What about your stake-out idea?" Madeleine asked. "How would you do it? Just walk a girl around the

Wal-Mart until something happens?"

"I think I'd run a little circuit," Sam replied. "I'd put the woman up in the best hotel in town. She'd circulate there, sit around the pool, hit the bar, and so on." Then she'd head out to the Mall, stroll around there, buy a couple' things. Then she'd hit the supermarket. Meanwhile, we'd be following her around, discreetly, trying to see if anybody's taking the bait."

"The big problem," Madeleine said, "is the likelihood that he's already left the area."

"Yes. The car's still missing, and nobody's identified the man from the sketches. He's probably left town... But what if he hasn't?"

"The hotel business. You still think he's not a local?"

"My guess would be he's not local. But even if he is, there's a chance that the town's biggest hotel would be a good home base. Lots of civic clubs meet there. I'd have the woman there around lunchtime, parading around, in case it's one of the city fathers who's on the prowl."

"How does Lester feel about all this?"

"I haven't even tried it on him yet, but I know he's going to squawk. I don't blame him. It's an incredible long-shot, and it's staff-intensive. We'd need the woman, and at least two deputies on it, full-time. Lester would have a hemorrhage. He'd tell me the payoff's too unlikely to merit the cost."