“I don’t know,” Ramsey said. “I really don’t know why I was telling you that.” He saw Emma’s beautiful face in his mind’s eye, then, suddenly, saw her lying on her face in the forest, saw the marks on her small body, the blood on her legs. Vicious deep rage nearly overwhelmed him. It drummed all the way into his bones. He was clutching the receiver so tightly his knuckles showed white. “It’s not right, Savich. This shouldn’t have happened. Not to Emma, not to any little kid.”
“You know how common it is, Ramsey. God knows you saw enough of it in your time in the U.S. Attorney’s office, and probably some when you were a trial lawyer. And now as a judge.”
“Some people in the San Francisco area think I’ve been too tough on crimes like this, but I don’t agree. There isn’t a cure or rehabilitation for child molesters, as the Church finally discovered, so it behooves us to keep them well away from children for the rest of their lives.”
They spoke of Paris, of Sherlock’s continuing reaction to the word pregnant. Savich was laughing as he said, “I accidentally said the accursed word in a three-star restaurant on the Isle St. Louis. She nearly puked in her fancy French mushrooms stuffed with something I can’t begin to pronounce. I’ll bet it means something like ‘greasy tourist innards’ but I could be wrong. In any case, our waiter was wild-eyed, flapping his white waiter’s towel around, but he got her to the women’s room just in the nick of time.”
“The bathroom was very nice. It was too bad that I didn’t make it to the toilet.”
It was Sherlock and she was laughing. Ramsey said, “It shouldn’t last much longer, should it?”
“The doc says another month. I’m thinking of taping Dillon’s mouth shut to keep that word stuck in his throat, but then he couldn’t kiss me properly. It’s a tough call, downsides everywhere. How’s Molly?”
“She’s hanging in, taking lots of pictures, even of me. I look up and there she is, turning all these dials on her camera, assuming strange contorted positions, muttering about backlighting and the like. She’s spending a fortune on film. You want to speak to her?”
Molly slipped out and came around to Ramsey’s bed. Thank God Emma was sound asleep. She listened, then spoke to Sherlock. She laughed, a warm infectious sound that made Ramsey smile. She was humming to herself when she slipped back into her bed beside Emma.
28
RAMSEY BRUSHED HIS teeth, put the cap back on the toothpaste, and rinsed out his toothbrush, standing it bristles-up in a glass on the sink. He was leaning into the small shower stall to turn on the water. He heard something, straightened, and turned back toward the bathroom door.
Molly was standing there in her cotton nightgown, her hair tousled from sleeping, and her eyes were remarkably bright and focused. She was staring right at his cock.
“Molly?”
“Uh? Oh, Ramsey, I’m sorry. I wanted to go to the bathroom, I wasn’t listening, I didn’t realize you were in here and I-” Her voice fell like a rock off a cliff.
She continued to stare at him. Even when she’d spoken, she hadn’t looked at his face. She hadn’t even gotten as high as his chest.
She said now, still not looking at his face, “I guess I’d better leave now.”
“I’ll be out in just a few minutes.”
“I can hold it.” She was out the door in a flash. He looked down at himself. He was getting erect, fast. Well, damn, he was a man and a man didn’t have any say over that. It was the only completely independent organ of his entire body. Actually, given all the time they’d spent together, it was surprising this hadn’t happened before. Actually, he rather wished, as he lathered soap on his chest and belly, that he’d been the one to walk in on Molly. He wondered how she’d have reacted if he’d just stood there staring at her body, his eyes not getting above her neck. He also found himself wondering what she’d thought of his body. She’d seen him with a hard-on before, particularly in the mornings when they’d slept in the same room. But he hadn’t been naked.