an Assistant U.S. Attorney.
The perfect life didn't last long. Roger landed a job as in-house
counsel with Nike, so we wound up moving to Portland after only a
couple of years in New York. A few months later, I discovered that my
husband had taken literally his new employer's ad slogan encouraging
decisive, spontaneous, self-satisfying action. We both thought I would
be working late preparing for a trial set to start the following day,
but the case had settled with a last-minute guilty plea. My intention
was to surprise Roger by coming home early with dinner and a movie in
hand.
Instead, I found him doing it with a professional volleyball player on
top of our dining room table. I got the house and everything in it,
but I made sure he got the table.
Now Grace and I rarely referred to my former husband as anything other
than Shoe Boy or for any reason other than comic. We definitely never
insinuated that I was somehow responsible for his infidelities.
"That's totally unfair, Grace. You know that Chuck and I have been
nothing more than friends since I came back to town. Unlike some
people, I took my marriage vows seriously."
"Come on, Sam. I'm not saying Roger was justified to whore around. I'm
just saying he might have been bothered when you and Chuck started
spending time together again. Roger thought leaving New York was going
to change things, but you were still putting in the same kind of hours
and running thirty miles a week. Then you started making time for
Chuck. Say what you want about only being friends, but to Roger it was
more than that, even if you weren't technically cheating. He had to
have seen the chemistry; everyone does. You drop that hard-ass force
field of yours with me and with Chuck, but you never dropped it with
Roger. And if he was bothered by it, the next guy will be too. So,
unless you want to be alone for good, you need to decide where Chuck
Forbes fits into your life. You're not in high school anymore,
honey."
I didn't know what to say.
"You pissed?" she asked.
"No, just surprised."
"I know. I get sucked in by you two also, but I worry about you, is
all. This isn't college, when you could sleep with Chuck on breaks and
then run back to Cambridge. Make sure you know what you're doing." She
smiled. "Don't get me wrong. I have noticed how good he looks in that
uniform of his."
I returned the smile and said, "At least I'm not writing Mrs. Charles
Landon Forbes, Jr." in my notebook anymore."
We quickly changed the subject, but the conversation nagged at me
throughout the rest of the meal. Roger used to accuse me of being
ambivalent about our relationship; now Grace was suggesting the same
thing about my feelings for Chuck. The way I'd always seen it, my job
was hard enough; the personal stuff should take care of itself.
Three.
Work returned to a normal pace the next day.
I had left several messages on Andrea Martin's machine the day before
but hadn't heard back from her. This morning, she picked up.
"Ms. Martin, my name is Samantha Kincaid. I'm a deputy district
attorney for Multnomah County. How are you?"
"Could be better, under the circumstances and all."
"I left a few messages for you yesterday," I said.
"Yeah, I didn't get 'em till late. I wait tables at the Hot-cake House
at night. I was planning on trying to call you back later."
"My understanding is that the police have talked to you about what
happened over the weekend. Is that right?"
"Yeah. One of 'em, Mike somebody, called me in the middle of the night
Saturday. Told me Kendra was in the hospital. I'd just gotten off
work, but I would've come down anyway. I guess Kendra didn't want me
there, though."
"Where is Kendra now?"
"I think she's in her room. I'm just heading out for my day job at
Safeway."
"Did you know where Kendra was on Saturday night when this happened?"
"No. She runs away so much I've stopped calling the cops on her. She
just gets mad at me when they pick her up. I'm to the point I just
want her to come home every night. I figure I got a better chance if I
give her her freedom. The other way sure wasn't working."
"So she came home on Sunday afternoon then?"
"Yeah. She didn't want to. I don't know what's so bad around here
that she'd rather be out on the street. But the hospital wouldn't let
her go unless she came here or agreed to foster care. At least she
picked here."
"She's been through a lot. She might want your help right now."
She laughed. "Miss .. . what'd you say your name was again?"
"Samantha Kincaid. Call me Samantha."
"Well, you obviously don't know my daughter. She don't want help from
no one. Always been that way, too. It's like she decided when she
turned ten or something that she was grown."
"Did Detective Calabrese explain what Kendra's lifestyle has been while
she was on the street?"
"I wouldn't call it much of a lifestyle. But, yeah. That guy and his
partner a blond guy, real young came by the Safeway on Sunday to break
the news to me. They told me Saturday night she was assaulted. Guess
they wanted to say the other stuff in person."
They probably wanted to watch her response. Kids who run away are
often the victims of abuse by their parents. If anything would set a
parent off, it would be learning that their kid has been shooting up
and turning tricks. They wanted to make sure she didn't seem the type
to take her anger out on Kendra physically.
"How has Kendra been doing since she's been home?"
"Alright, I guess. Like I said, she don't really talk to me."
"Well, I was calling mainly to introduce myself and to let you know I'm
handling the case. The police have arrested one of the suspects. His
name is Frank Derringer. He's in jail for now, but we have to take the
case to a grand jury within a week, and Kendra's going to need to
testify for that. I've got it scheduled for Friday. Assuming the
grand jury indicts Derringer, the court will schedule the case for
trial. Most cases don't actually go to trial, but if this one does, it
will probably be in a couple of months and Kendra will need to testify.
Do you have any questions for me?"
"Do you know when the cops are going to give Kendra her stuff back? Her
keys were in her purse, and I don't know whether to get a new set
cut."
"I'm not really sure, Ms. Martin. It can take the crime lab a few
weeks sometimes to finish working on evidence. Depending on what they