Tunnel Vision by Brenda Adcock Page A

took Maggie in her arms and glided off into a slow two-step. Maggie followed her every step and spin as they moved effortlessly around the floor.
    The way Brodie’s body moved against hers made the room seem warmer than it was. Maggie hadn’t been with anyone for quite a while and hadn’t expected anything more than a dance. The song finally ended and Brodie released her, but Maggie’s arms remained around her waist as she looked up at her. Unable to redirect her eyes anyplace except Maggie’s lips, Brodie began to lean closer, then pulled away.
    Maggie stopped her, wrapping her arms around Brodie’s neck, engulfing her senses as she pulled her into a slow, exploratory kiss. As their lips parted, Maggie looked into her eyes. “I like you, Royce,” she said, the low timbre of her voice an invitation to more.
    “I like you, too, Maggie, but...”
    “But what?” she challenged.
    “Well, for one thing, no one calls me Royce except my mother,” Brodie said.
    “It fits you,” she said as she teased a finger across the taller woman’s mouth. “I like it.”
    Clearing her throat, Brodie continued, “Your father is my watch commander.”
    “What we do off duty is no one else’s business, including his.”
    “There’s a pretty big age difference between us.”
    “Is that a problem for you?” Maggie laughed.
    “Not usually. One of my many faults is that I enjoy the company of attractive women,” Brodie admitted. “Of all ages.”
    “Do you work tomorrow?”
    Brodie shook her head slightly. Bringing her mouth closer to Brodie’s ear, Maggie said with a smile, “I’m on second shift, but I’ll make sure you’re up before I leave for work.”
    For the next two years they were never separated until the night that marked the beginning of the end. NICHOLLS SLAPPED THE side of the computer
    monitor, snapping Maggie back to the present. “Come on, you hunka shit, give with the information already!”
    Half a minute later the computer finally began doing something constructive. He read the
    information coming up on the screen and jotted down a few notes.
    “Is that about one of the recent cases?” Maggie asked.
    “No. We’ve had a rash of afternoon vandalisms and a witness said she saw some kids hanging around one of the places that got hit. So I tapped into the school computer to check attendance records. Never know, I might get lucky and nail the little shits.”
    Maggie closed her notebook and got up. “Well, I guess I better get going.” She picked up a small stack of papers from her desk and shoved them into a manila envelope before grabbing her purse and heading for the front door. It had been an eventful two days, despite some latent hostility on Brodie’s part.
    As Maggie walked past the front desk, the desk officer was engrossed in a heated conversation with a tall, patrician-looking older woman. She was dressed like an English housewife in a green wool plaid skirt, white blouse, and tan cardigan sweater. Her gray hair was pulled up into a semi-bun, but it didn’t make her face look stark or severe.
    Maggie pushed the front door to the police station open, but the desk officer stopped her. “Detective, perhaps you can help this lady.”
    Maggie glanced at her watch quickly and walked back toward the front desk. “What seems to be the problem?”
    “My husband has been missing for five days and the police department doesn’t seem to give a damn. That’s the problem, young woman.”
    “Have you filed a missing person’s report, Mrs.–”
    “Brauner. And I have filed a report and called every day. So far I haven’t even had the courtesy of a follow-up phone call. How far up the food chain do I have to go before you people take this seriously?”
    The officer behind the desk looked frustrated.
    “Ma’am, maybe he just wanted to get away for a while.”
    “Officer, my husband simply would not just get away. He may be sixty-five years old, but despite what you young people seem to believe,