by SL Hulen
Victoria laid the article on the desk.
As she often did to celebrate the end of a case, she took a pair of scissors and carefully cut out the photo of the pyramids at Giza on the magazine’s cover. Then she stapled the photo onto one of the four bulletin boards in the hallway.
Khara was with her as she abandoned the stacks of files on her desk for some fresh air. Outside, the streets were busy as Victoria pulled her sweater a little tighter. It was almost noon. She knew by the way the sun hung high and only a sliver of her shadow was visible—things she would never have noticed a year ago. She found a bench in a quiet park beneath a budding mulberry tree. “You made it,” she whispered, “but you always knew you would. I’m the one,” she continued, smiling, “who always needed more convincing.” She rubbed the bracelet underneath her sleeve and closed her eyes.
She felt a presence next to her. The blue suit and bluer eyes of Robert Chilton had joined her on the bench. “I hoped to see you at your aunt’s house,” he began, and stretched his arm across the back of the bench, watching her intently.
“I was working on a case—traveling for a while. But I’m back now.”
“I read some very interesting things about you in the paper.”
“Oh, that.” She looked into the distance. “Is that why you’ve come?”
“I’ve never seen you in a dress; you look beautiful. And your hair is so much nicer when you let it down.”
She observed him cautiously. “Elias and Marta told you everything, didn’t they?”
“Robert’s arm, so casually draped behind her, wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her close. “We were all very worried when you disappeared. Will you tell me the whole story someday?”
“Maybe.”
He looked at his watch. No, she thought, please don’t go yet. Something inside her wanted to sit with him underneath the mulberry tree for a lifetime. She pictured him older and trying to look distinguished—which he would, except for the chubby little fingers tugging at his chin and nose.
“Victoria?”
“Yes.”
“My office is right there,” he told her, pointing across the street to a third-floor window. “Do you know why I worked so hard to get that office?”
“No idea.”
“To watch you on your way to court, silly girl. Honestly, Victoria, don’t you have any intuition, any feminine guile at all?”
She smiled reservedly and looked into her lap. For a moment she considered leaving; it was what she’d always done, what she knew. It kept things simple and clean. She took a moment before answering, to appreciate the cerulean blue of the sky.
Victoria gave Robert the kiss she’d been keeping from him since college.
About the Author
Ms. Hulen was born to an American aerospace engineer and a Mexican beauty who met in the flower shop of the famed Hotel Sylvia’s in Ciudad Juarez. The rich history and mysterious locations of the southwest serve as the setting for her first novel, Misplaced. She presently lives with her husband in Phoenix where the flavors, traditions, and soul of the southwest continue to inspire her.
