When Never Comes

by Barbara Davis

And if we break those rules, we get in trouble. I’ve put in a whole lot of years here and put up with a whole lot of crap. At this point, all I want is to get out and spend a few years on a little sailboat down in the Keys. I’m not about to stick my neck out, not even for the wife of a friend. I know that sounds harsh, but I have to look out for myself here. Stephen’s death wasn’t a homicide, which means I’m not even the guy you should be talking to. If anything, it’s a missing-persons case, and it’s not even that since no one’s filed an actual complaint on her. Either way, it’s not my purview. Now I need to go do my job. I’ll make sure they send that patrol car around, but I’m sorry, that’s all I can do.” And just like that Daniel Connelly was gone. Christine was still leaning against the counter, wondering why she’d just been given the brush-off, when the phone rang. She pounced on it, hoping Connelly had changed his mind. Instead, it was Dorsey and Sons. In the mayhem, she had forgotten that Stephen’s friends and colleagues were at that very moment gathering to pay him tribute—and wondering what had happened to the widow. As it turned out, she needn’t have worried. Apparently, the barrage of breaking news had whittled the number of mourners to an awkward handful. But then that really wasn’t surprising. Who in their right mind would want to look her in the eye now, let alone gush about what a great guy she’d married? Using the vaguest language possible, she explained tha...