The Edge of Sleep by David Wiltse

the parking garage, she continued to sing until she had finished the refrain, staring straight ahead as if she were still driving. She held the last note for a long time, not wanting to let it go because the melody and its comfort would be gone.
    When she was finished, she turned to Ash and smiled sweetly. Her cheeks were wet, but she looked gently happy.
    She patted his face.
    “Because you’re not a woman,” she said. “That’s why you don’t understand. Nobody loves like a mother.”
    Still carrying the laundry bag because he had forgotten to put it down. Ash followed her into the mall.

Chapter 7
    A S SOON AS BECKER PULLED off the Merritt Parkway and onto the road network leading into his home town of Clamden, he was aware of the police car behind him. Driving up the long, steep hill that led into the Clamden city limits, Becker accelerated slowly but steadily to see if the cruiser would keep pace. Convinced that he was being followed, Becker turned left at the crest of the mile-long hill, picking up speed as he crossed the intersection. Just before his view of the police car was blocked by the intervening buildings, Becker saw the flashing lights come on atop the cruiser.
    Becker turned right at the first intersection, then left at the next. The police car loomed ever larger in his rearview mirror, closing the gap between them. The lights continued to flash, but there was as yet no siren. Becker turned right and then immediately into a driveway. When the police car raced past, Becker pulled out of the driveway and went back the way he had come, turning the corner and just glimpsing the taillights of the cruiser come on as the driver slammed on his brakes.
    Around the corner and temporarily out of sight of the police car, Becker parked and got out. He was leaning on the hood of his car as the cruiser came rapidly around the corner and sped past him. Forty yards away the police car came to a stop and began to back up, very slowly, toward Becker.
    When the police car came abreast of Becker, the cop leaned out his window.
    “Cute,” he said.
    “Thank you,” said Becker.
    “Make me run back and forth, spinning my wheels like something in a cartoon. I’m a role model, you know.”
    “I hadn’t heard,” said Becker.
    “Lots of kids look up to me for clues on how to live their lives.”
    “I wasn’t aware.”
    “It doesn’t do for them to see me looking like a jerk. I’m the Chief of Police.”
    The policeman got out of the car. He was a large man, tall and strongly built, but with muscles now sagging and fat beginning to fill out his face and abdomen.
    “How many kids look to you as a role model?” Becker asked. “Just offhand. If you know.”
    “Hundreds, maybe dozens. How about you?”
    The policeman shifted his gun belt in a movement with which Becker was long familiar. The chief rode in the car with his bolstered automatic nestled between his legs for comfort. Once standing, he twitched it into place again, a motion that looked at times as if he were preparing for a fast draw.
    “Kids run screaming when they see me,” said Becker.
    “Funny reaction,” said the policeman. “Personally, I find you rather attractive.”
    “I’ll try to work on that,” said Becker. “Nice driving, by the way.”
    “I took a course in that,” the policeman said. “Taught by some sissy yob in the FBI.” He leaned against the hood next to Becker. “I can go around a corner on two wheels and do a three-sixty just like the guys in the movies. I have all the skills.”
    “Which is why they made you chief, I imagine.”
    “That and my detective talents.”
    “Is that right? Good at sleuthing, too, are you?”
    “Fucking A.” The cop placed his hand on the center of Becker’s hood. “This car has been driven recently, just for instance.”
    “How can you tell?”
    “He’s still sweating. I know something else.”
    “Tell me everything you know. Tee. I’ve got five minutes.”
    Thomas Terence Terhune,