Take Another Look by Rosalind Noonan Page A

didn’t get the message? That I didn’t want to be tracked down?” She had disappeared for a reason, and if this man could find her, so could Frank.
    â€œI was doing my job, ma’am.”
    The whoop of sirens bounced through the surrounding trees and houses. The Mirror Lake Police would be pulling up any second. She turned to Luke. “Do you want to put the gun away before the police get here?”
    Luke glanced from the gun to Alvarez. “Shit.” He lowered the shiny black pistol. “Stay right where you are until the police get here,” he told the intruder.
    Jane called Phee in closer and together they kept a watchful eye on the detective. Alvarez remained sitting with his hands on his head while Luke tucked the gun away in his car.
    â€œMr. Alvarez, I have some questions for you,” she said. “After the police run your ID, we’ll talk.” At a diner, perhaps. Somewhere neutral. She certainly wasn’t going to invite him into the house. The neighbors were already getting an eyeful. An armed standoff, and now two police cars that had burst into sight with lights and sirens exploding the darkness. It was enough of a disturbance to the neighborhood for one night.
    She was conscious of the lights that had gone on in neighboring homes. Dave and Nancy Tully stood in their driveway, and Gary Larsen watched from his front porch, there for her, ready to help. She acknowledged Gary with a grateful wave and reassured the Tullys that everything was okay. Hard to believe, especially with the adrenaline that still sizzled in her veins, but it was true. Frank wasn’t trying to kill her. Everything was fine.
    She kept telling herself that, but she knew it would take hours, maybe even days, to come down from this frantic buzz.

Chapter 5
    A s they drove to the all-night restaurant to meet with Alvarez, the haunting refrain of “Building a Mystery” came on the radio, snapping Jane back to that fateful summer. She turned it off, craving silence.
    â€œI feel like there’s so much I have to tell you about the man I escaped from,” she murmured, drained from the encounter at the house. “But then, the complete story is probably trite. Such a middle-class horror story.”
    â€œI can deal with trite,” Luke said gently. “But give yourself a breather. We’re almost there. After we’re done with this guy, we can talk. No limits.”
    She nodded, sinking into the seat. Outside the air was cool, crisp. The temperature had dropped, but Luke had turned on her seat heater. That was Luke: thoughtful, protective. Although her trust in him was complete, absolute, definitive, Jane hadn’t told him everything about her relationship with Frank Dixon. It wasn’t easy talking about the biggest mistake of her life. Even years later, it burned.
    When Jane looked back at the summer of 1997, she sometimes felt a pang of sympathy for the naïve young woman she had been after college graduation. Convinced that her life had been bland and ordinary, Jane was determined to set herself apart with some extraordinary adventures. Like most college students, Jane and her friends had been partying for years, but this was the first time they could imbibe in the local bar scene, a happening place in Burnson. In the apartment she shared with Marnie, she was free to skip meals and paint her toenails on the coffee table. Although their mornings were spent teaching summer school, they had the afternoons free to run along the river or take a ride to one of the beaches—“A perfect summer schedule,” Marnie proclaimed. By the afternoon the marine layer that fogged the California coast lifted, leaving a magnificent shoreline of sparkling indigo water, sand beaches, and sheltered coves. Jane sported a bikini for the first time in years and, with her new, fit body, she actually enjoyed wading into the cold water and hanging with the surfers.
    After an evening