“Not yet. I’ll get some coffee.”

“Tell you what. Follow me over to the Lafayette. That’s where the Henderson campaign is.” Knowing Frank’s long legs don’t fit very comfortably into the Karmann Ghia, I exchanged keys with him.

The Lafayette is one of the grand old hotels that were built when Las Piernas was a thriving resort. Although the hotel itself is very posh, the neighborhood around it is struggling. The last time I was at the Lafayette, I parked on the street and my car was vandalized. I’m still too cheap to go the valet route, but this time I decided to spring for a space in the hotel parking lot.

We arrived there just before midnight. As I suspected, no one was conceding anything. The tally was too close. We walked up to Stacee, who made goo-goo eyes at Frank, but he walked over to the coffeepot after sparing her only a polite hello. Of course, as I watched him over her shoulder, I saw him make a little halo over his head with his hands. I put two fingers up behind my own head, making Stacee look between us like we were nuts.

“What do we do if it isn’t decided by late deadline and no one concedes?” she asked, covering up a yawn.

“I phone in a noncommittal story with a couple of quotes from the candidates. It’s looking like that’s the way it’s going to be anyway. Why don’t you go on home?”

“Thanks, I think I will.” She gathered her things together, went over some notes with me, and left.

She was back five minutes later. Frank and I were sharing a cup of coffee when she walked up to us, soaked to the bone.

“My car won’t start.”

Frank looked at me.

“I’m sure Detective Harriman would be happy to help you.”

As he started to get up, I leaned over and whispered, “Don’t forget your halo.”

Jacob spotted me a few minutes later and walked over. “Hi, Miss Kelly. Long night, huh?”

“Yes. Julie says ‘hello,’ by the way. She was headed home for the night.”

“How is she?”

“I don’t know. I think things will be rough for her for a while yet. But you’ll be there for her, right?”

“Yeah. I just wish there was something I could do for her. She’s done so much for me.”

We were interrupted by the return of Frank. A sopping wet Frank. He looked like he had fallen into a river. I introduced him to Jacob, who didn’t seem sure what to make of him. He asked Jacob to excuse us for a moment, and led me out to a balcony. The rain was falling in loud torrents, but the balcony was covered, so I stayed dry.

“Her battery has been stolen. That’s why her car won’t start.”

“Take her home then.”

“I don’t want to leave you here.”

“I’m okay. In another hour I’ll be so close to the last chance to make tomorrow’s paper, I’ll have to turn something in and come home anyway.”

“But Stacee-”

“I trust you. I was kidding before. Sort of.”

He laughed and took me into his drenched arms and gave me a long kiss. “Come straight home.”

“Home, huh? Okay. Now get going before I leave Stacee here to drown.”

“Straight home,” he said again, “as soon as possible.”

“As soon as possible,” I said.

LATER, when I had a long time to consider this conversation, I thought about how, for once in my life, I should have done what someone told me to do. I also thought about how “as soon as possible” could be a very long time.

I CALLED THE OFFICE and got an update – the storm had caused some power outages, and the registrar’s computers had been down for a while. They were counting some precincts by hand. I read off a “no declared winner” paragraph and told them I’d hang around for another hour just in case something changed.

Not long after that, Jacob came over to talk to me again. He asked me about newspapers and reporting and told me more about his school paper. I enjoyed his enthusiasm.

At about 12:30 or so, a pimply faced young man in a hotel uniform came up to me and asked if I was Irene Kelly. I didn’t think a process server would go that far, so I said yes.

He said he had an urgent phone message for me and handed me a folded note. I tipped him and opened the paper. Jacob read over my shoulder – a sign that he would make a good reporter.

Miss Kelly,

Please meet me at the corner of Falcon and Briarcrest. I need your help.

Will wait until 1:00.

Sammy

“I’m going with you.”

“Jacob, your father would never forgive me.”

“Detective Harriman wouldn’t like it if I let you go there alone.”

“Ask your dad.”

I waited while he walked over to Brian Henderson, who listened to him then waved and nodded “yes” to me. I grabbed my coat and Jacob left with me. Later, when I thought about it, I suspected Jacob had said something like, “Can Miss Kelly take me home, since it’s a school night?” to his dad, but I was in too much of a hurry and lacking too much sleep to question it at the time. In all honesty, when I was a teenager, I had pulled the same kind of stunt myself. More than once.

I looked up the intersection of Falcon and Briarcrest in my map book. It was in a residential area of Las Piernas, a few miles from the hotel. At one time, its stately wood frame homes made it the most elite neighborhood in town. But it had fairly gone to seed in the last twenty years, being too far from the water to attract the kind of money that could afford the upkeep – especially the kind of dollars needed to restore such large houses.

The wind picked up, drumming the rain loudly against the cloth top of the Karmann Ghia. The defroster wasn’t working right, and I could barely see out the windshield.

“Open the glove compartment,” I said to Jacob. “Try to read the map by the lamp.”

As he opened it, a couple of white business cards with detective shields embossed on them spilled out. Jacob picked them up. “Detective Frank Harriman,” he read aloud, “Robbery Homicide Division… why do you have these in your car?”

“Uh, Frank must have left them there. He borrowed my car today.”

When it comes to looking skeptical, teenagers have it all over adults.

“Okay,” I admitted, resisting an urge to tug at my collar. “If I’m pulled over for speeding in Las Piernas, I make sure I have one of those next to my registration or my driver’s license. Do not – repeat – do not tell your father about this.”

The look I got for even suggesting that he would break a confidence was far more scathing than skepticism. But after a moment he asked, “Does it work?”

“Not with the Highway Patrol,” I said glumly, but noticed he discreetly pocketed one of the cards.

He called out directions, checking the map by the dim glow of the glove compartment light.

Suddenly the streetlamps went out, and houses all around us were darkened.

“Great, a power outage.”

“We’ve got to hurry,” he urged. “She shouldn’t be out in rain like this – especially with no streetlights.”

I drove as fast as I dared under the conditions. I got out at one intersection and went to look at the street signs up close – they were impossible to read from the car under that dark sky. My umbrella was nowhere to be found, so I had to dash over with my coat over my head. We were on Falcon.

I followed it until we finally found the corner at Briarcrest. We parked on Falcon. It was a vacant lot, covered with shoulder-high weeds. No sign of Sammy. I looked at my watch. It was 12:50 a.m.

“Where is she? I don’t see her!” The kid was frantic.

“Stay here,” I said. “I’m getting out to look around.”

“I’m going with you.”

I didn’t want to waste time arguing. If he wanted to get soaked, fine. I stepped out of the car into a rain that was coming down so hard it stung. It bounced off the pavement so high, it fell twice. We walked up and down the corner in each direction, and never saw her. I looked into the field and was about to start calling out for her, when I saw a place where some of the weeds had been matted down. There were water-filled footprints leading into the field.