“Of course not. But I didn’t want to complicate things by nabbing him myself—didn’t want that lawyer raising any questions of entrapment or harassment—so as I followed him into the dock area, I patched through to a couple of guys I know on Vice. They waited till he parked, snuck up on him, and caught him in the act.”

“Wow will someone take him off the streets?” she said, brushing the crumbs off her lap.

“He is off the street. At least for the time being. He’s locked up, charged with having sex with a minor.”

“And that’s your good news? Another poor kid was molested by this creep?”

“Don’t you see?” Will said, looking a little hurt. “He’s not going to walk away from this one. Now he’s got two sexual molestation charges in one week. He can’t threaten or buy his way out when the witnesses are cops. He’s going to be too busy defending himself to go after you. You’re off the hook.”

… Off the hook…

Alicia slumped back against the padded back of the booth as the truth of Will’s words seeped past her anger at Floyd Stevens.

“Oh, my God,” she said softly. “You’re right. He can’t say he never touched Kanessa. Can’t say I imagined it all and overreacted.”

“And best yet,” Will said. “He’s going down for last night. He’s going to do time.”

Alicia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt as if a small planet had been lifted from her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she said, looking at Will. She felt a sudden burst of warmth for this man, this good, good man. “What you did is above and beyond duty. I… I don’t know what to say.” Impulsively, she reached across the table and clutched his hand. “Thank you.”

He shook his head. “Nailed a perv and helped a very special lady out of a jam. Trust me. The pleasure was all mine.”

Alicia realized that Will had cupped her hand in both of his. She couldn’t pull away now… and wasn’t sure she wanted to.

The waiter’s arrival with the wine broke the spell.

Will made a big display of aerating the tasting portion of the Chianti, checking its legs, sniffing it, swirling it in his mouth, doing everything but gargling with it, then he swallowed and puckered his face into an awful grimace.

“This is swill!” he told the waiter. “Take it out back and pour it down a storm drain!”

The waiter snorted. “Yeah,” he said with a crooked smile. “Like you’d know.”

He poured Alicia a glass, then casually added more to Will’s.

“I’m like Rodney Dangerfield here,” Will said, shaking his head. “No respect.”

“With beer, you maybe got credentials,” the waiter said. “But wine? Fuhgheddaboudit.”

He left the bottle on the table and strolled away.