"But they had substituted fake bones. There was no need to date anything."
"There must have been a purpose," Dean answered. "We just don't know what it was."
They continued to watch as the children began tossing small stones at their floating treasure, trying to halt its progress, when the sound of a horn startled them. It was Lydia Larkin, in uniform, in her official vehicle. She motioned for them to get in. Dean looked to his wife.
"You go," she said. "I'll see you back at Bird Song." He bent down and kissed her.
"I hear you got the kid back," Lydia said as he opened the passenger side door and slid in beside her. He could still see the bruises through the makeup covering her face. She was more nervous than he'd ever seen her. She accelerated in a screech, without so much as a glance at Cynthia, who stood at the curb.
"At least temporarily," Dean answered as he groped for his seat belt. "Every time the phone rings, we jump."
"You'd take her-the kid-full time? For good?"
"Her name is Martha, and yes, in a minute. But that's not why you picked me up, is it?"
"I guess you're pissed at me for running against you."
"You have every right to be a candidate-" Dean answered.
"That's not what I asked you." She continued up Seventh Street and turned south on Main and drove toward the mountains. Her radio crackled in the background.
"Am I mad? No," he answered. "Surprised, at least at first. But when I think about it, I guess I shouldn't be exactly dumbfounded. After all, you're ambitious. You set up Fitzgerald, so you're obviously cunning and opportunistic. Isn't that a classic definition of good politician?"
She laughed. "But my timing sucked, didn't it? Now nobody knows where Fitzgerald is. How the hell does that look?"
"You tell me. You don't sound very broken up about it."
The anger showed clearly. "Why the hell should I be after what he did to me? Whatever happens to him, he deserves it!"
She turned to the right, up the unpaved Camp Bird Mine Road. "By the way, you don't have anything to worry about with the election either. I don't have a prayer of beating you. I'm not even trying." She reached over and turned off the radio.
"Then why bother to run?"
"Self-defense. I figured when you won, you'd fire me. I don't want to be out of a job."
"I wouldn't necessarily can you-unless you screwed up really badly."
"You'd make my life miserable. Besides, I can't seem to compromise you. You won't sleep with me-at least so far. That alone makes me nervous."