Page 47 of Sean's Sunshine

She nodded, suddenly looking very sober. “Does that mean they’ll be back?” she asked. “I… you know. This neighborhood is pretty safe. I don’t want to be scared every time my husband has to leave.”

Sean grew sober. “What did the police say when they came?”

She shook her head. “They just filed a report so we could get the insurance, but that was it. I, uh, get the impression that small stuff really isn’t worth their time.”

“Property crimes are hard,” he said, and Billy knew that was the truth. “Like you said, your actual things are probably already sold. But a pattern of break-ins should be investigated.” He paused. “So I’ve got to ask. I notice you don’t have a dog, do you?”

She shook her head. “No. Why?”

“Are you allergic,” Sean asked, “or busy?”

“So busy,” she told him, growing thoughtful. “Again, why?”

Sean shrugged. “Just testing a theory. And your friend Linda only has the terrifying cat?”

“Yeah. Shehada big bruising pit bull, but Sweaty ran away last summer.”

Sean blinked. “Sweaty?”

“Like in those books!” Billy said excitedly. “TheWimpy Kidones.” He’d read them to his little brothers and sisters almost nightly. The dog’s name was really Sweetie, but the idiot older brother couldn’t spell. Suddenly Billy’s heart hurt for the unseen Sweaty, who was named after books and apparently loved.

Marla chuckled. “Yeah. Linda’s boys love those books.” Then she grew sad. “They were heartbroken when she got out. I mean, I said she was a bruiser, but she was really the sweetest dog in the world. Even theirfriendswere heartbroken.”

“Aw,” Sean said. “That’s a real shame.”

Marla shook her head. “Yeah, but you know, now that you ask, maybe it’s time for us both to look into adopting a puppy.” She smiled brightly. “Put the kid in the stroller, take the dog for a walk—way to keep the weight off, right?”

“And they make really good friends,” Billy said, nodding earnestly.

“They do,” she agreed. “And my husband’s going to be traveling for a few more years. It’s definitely something to think about.”

They wrapped it up shortly after that, and Sean and Billy headed across the street to interview the much-talked-about Linda. Linda wasn’t home, and Sean said something stupid about walking to the next cul-de-sac, which was the dumbest shit Billy had ever heard, given his complexion and the way his breathing sounded.

“No,” he said, grabbing Sean’s hand and dragging him to the thruway. There were retaining walls on either side of the thruway, with plants and stuff around waist level as the path dipped into the park. But the retaining walls were built to rise and fall with the path, so at the beginning there were a couple of spots that were perfect for a tired detective to sit on.

“What am I doing?” Sean asked, confused.

“You’re sitting here and waiting.” Billy scowled and looked over his shoulder, figuring there was about half a mile between where they were now and the Charger in the parking lot, and then a good two miles around the park if he drove the Charger around the side streets. “Okay, I’m going to run get the car. Do you think you can sit here and not get all winded and sad and stuff?”

“I can walk back!” Sean tried to laugh and ended up wheezing instead.

“Sure you can,” Billy said grimly. “Humor me.”

“But—”

Billy kissed him as he sat, knowing there was nobody on the path in either direction and reasonably sure nobody could see them as they were, hidden by trees. Ooh… his surrender was so sweet. Billy wondered if this man had been waiting his whole life for someone to tell him what to do with his life so he could figure out what to do with his mouth.

Sean let out a little sound of protest and leaned back. “You’re totally bullying me,” he muttered.

“I am,” Billy agreed. “And you’re going to sit there and think of a good reason this won’t work. I’ll be back in ten minutes. Remember to have your reason ready then.”

And with that he took off, hoping Sean had the good sense not to move.

His sprint across the park felt good—really good, in fact. He dodged dogs, people, even leapt over a little kid’s head as the poor muffin wandered right into his flight path. He ignored the dog path and crossed the soccer fields, running hard at their steepest hill and then hitting the dog path on the other side. By the time he got to the Charger, he was only a little winded—and a lot pissed off when he saw the teenagers hanging around Sean’s car.

“Go away,” he snapped. “This isn’t yours.”

“Guillermo?” one of the kids said softly. “Is that you?”