“I think he’s sending her letters.” The policeman took a deep breath. Around them, people were walking to their cars, heading for home. “I’m not sure whether I should try to stay out of his way, to stay as far away from you as possible, or whether I should come down hard on his ass and make him pay.”

“You don’t need me to tell you. You know the right thing to do.”

“What right thing? You want to know the truth? I don’t care about doing the right thing. I care about keeping Janine. That’s what I care about. That’s all I care about.”

“I don’t believe that,” Doug said softly. “And neither do you. That’s why you’re talking to me right now.”

“I don’t know.”

“You know, Mike.”

“But there’s nothing we can do. Not really. Nothing we can pin on him. Nothing we can prove. I’d like to be able to trip him up on something, to throw him in jail, but I can’t.”

“He’s tampering with the mails. Get him for that.”

“No proof.”

“There will be when the post office calls you back.”

“What if there isn’t?”

“People are dying here, Mike. We have to do something.”

“Yeah? What do you expect me to do? Hang up my badge? Go out and gun him down?”

“No. Of course not.” But a small frightening voice within him was saying, Yes yes.

“I’m keeping my eyes open, like I promised. But I can’t guarantee that I’ll do any more than that. I’m a police officer, not a vigilante.”

The young cop was looking for reassurance, Doug knew, but he had none to give. When it came to something like this, older did not necessarily mean wiser. He was just as afraid as the policeman and just as much in the dark about what to do. Still, he nodded. “That’s all I ask.”

“I have to get back to work. It’s a rough crowd tonight.”

“Yeah. I have to go too.” Doug started to turn, but he looked back again. “Be careful, Mike. If he’s sending letters to your fiancée, he knows about you.”

The policeman said nothing, but moved away, between the cars, toward the grandstand. Silently, Doug walked back to the Bronco, where Trish and Billy were waiting.