disappointment was so great, he compensated by trashing the loft. It

took him nearly an hour to vent his frustration, ripping clothes,

breaking gla.s.sware, hacking cushion after cushion in the sectional with

a knife he'd taken from the kitchen.

He thought of the paintings, stacked up in the studio. Knife in hand,

he started up when the phone rang. He stopped, jumping at the sound. He

was breathing hard, sweat rolling into his eyes. There was a trickle of

blood from his lip where he'd gnawed through while slashing the sofa.

On the fourth ring, the machine picked up. "Marianne."

Drew bolted down the steps at the sound of Emma's voice. He'd nearly

yanked up the receiver before he caught himself "You're probably still

in bed, or up to your elbows in paint, so call me later. Try to make it

this morning. I'm going to the beach later to practice my surfing. I

can stay up for more than ten seconds. Don't be jealous, but it's going

to hit ninety in L.A. today. Call soon."

L.A., Drew thought. Turning, he stared at the mural of Emma on the

plaster wall.

WHEN MARUNNE PHONED an hour later, Emma was on her way out the door. She

closed it, locked it again before she answered.

"Hi there." Marianne's voice was drowsy and content.

"Hi, yourself You just getting up? It must be nearly noon in New York."

"I'm not up yet." She snuggled back against the pillows. "I'm in bed.

The dentist's bed."

"Having a tooth capped?"

"Let's just say that he's got talents that extend beyond dental hygiene.

I called my machine for messages and got yours. So, how are you?"

"I'm doing okay. Really."

"Glad to hear it. Is Michael going to the beach with you?"

"No, he's working."

Marianne wrinkled her nose. If she couldn't be around to look after

Emma, she counted on the cop to do so. She could hear the shower in the

next room and wished lazily that her new lover would come back to bed

instead of heading off to fight plaque. "Tooth decay or bad guys, I

guess a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Look, I'm thinking of

coming out in a couple of weeks."

"To check up on me?"

"Right. And to finally meet this Michael y(ju've been keeping to

yourself all these years. Have a good time hanging ten, Emma. I'll

call you tomorrow."

MICHML LIKED BEING our in the field. He didn't have any real gripe with

paperwork, or the hours it sometimes took talking on the phone, going on

door-to-doors. But he liked the action on the streets.

He'd had to ignore a good deal of ribbing in the early years. The

captain's son. Some of it had been good-natured, some of it hadn't, but

he'd weathered it. He'd worked hard for his gold shield.

In the station now he stole a doughnut from a nearby desk, eating it

standing up, while paging through the paper an a.s.sociate had left next

to the coffee maker.

He went straight for the comics. After a night like he'd put in, he

needed all the laughs he could get. From there, he went looking for