Her Baby's Father

“You called in an attempted robbery?” asked the officer, whose name tag said Robards.

“Yes,” the restaurant owner answered.

“We were the ones he assaulted,” Jack said, gesturing toward Sara and himself. “We’d just finished dinner and stepped outside.”

Robards looked at Sara. “You’re the woman who stages the houses, right?”

“How do you know?”

“My wife has taken me to a couple of showings. I saw you at one of them.”

Sara nodded. “I was working on a job all day. Jack and I came down here for some dinner—and to unwind.”

Jack laughed. “It didn’t turn out quite the way we expected.”

“It did until a few minutes ago,” she answered, her gaze searching his.

“Yes.”

Again, he forgot that they weren’t alone, until the police officer said, “Let me get some basic information.”

He took their names, phone numbers, addresses and email addresses. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Jack gave an account of the incident.

When he finished, Robards looked at Sara. “You were taking a chance with that purse stunt. He could have shot you.”

“I guess that’s right.” She shifted in her seat. “I just reacted when I saw the gun pointed at Jack.” Even though she told the cop the same thing she’d told Jack earlier, there was something about her expression that gave him an odd feeling, as though she were holding information back.

“What did the man look like?” the cop asked.

Jack raised one shoulder. “There wasn’t anything remarkable about him. He was medium height. His hair was thinning. But mostly I saw the gun.”

“What kind of gun?”

“An automatic.” Jack looked at Sara. “You kicked it under the car. Maybe it’s still there.”

“Show me where,” Robards said.

They all got up and went outside. Sara pointed to the spot where the weapon had disappeared. It was lying against the curb, and the officer was able to retrieve it and put it into an evidence bag.

“Good,” he said. “Anything else you can add to his description?”

She nodded. “Like Jack said, he was medium height. Thinning hair. A high forehead. A wide mouth. One of his front teeth was a little crooked.”

“You noticed that?” Jack asked.

“I was thinking he ought to get it fixed.”

“Anything else?” Robards asked.

“Bad skin. Well, you know, teenage acne scars.”

“Yeah,” Jack chimed in. “I forgot to mention that.”

Sara spoke again. “He was wearing dark slacks. A dark, long-sleeved knit shirt. His shoes were dark. I guess he was hoping to make himself inconspicuous.”

“Did you see his eye color?” the cop asked.

“They were light,” Sara said. “I don’t know exactly what color.” She thought for a moment. “Except for the scars, his skin was very pale. I don’t think he goes out much. And, uh, he didn’t sound like he was from around here. More like a New York accent.”

“He didn’t say much,” Jack answered.

“I know. Just an impression I had.”

“Had either of you seen him before?” Robards asked.

“No,” Jack answered.

Sara said the same thing, but she was a beat behind him.

“Are you willing to come in and look at some mug shots?” Robards asked.

“Yes,” they both said at the same time.

“Can you come in tomorrow morning?”

They both agreed.

By the end of the interview, Sara was looking wiped out.

“I’ll drive,” Jack said when they returned to her car.

She flopped into the passenger seat, leaned back and closed her eyes, but he saw her hands were clasped in her lap.

He started the car, pulled out of the parking space and headed toward home.

“Your quick thinking made a difference,” he said.

“Don’t give me too much credit,” she murmured. “You beat him up, and he ran away.”

“I think he’d have shot me if you hadn’t reacted.”

She nodded.

“Then you came up with a lot of details I didn’t notice.”

Her eyes snapped open. “I’ve trained myself to think about details. That’s part of my job.”