Thank you for your kind reviews so far. I did want to let you know that it is not my intention to be mean by witholding chapters when you know they're all written; never having written a story before I hoped that serializing the chapters would result in the story having more readers and more feedback overall. Even more important for a new writer: serializing gives me the opportunity to make revisions to later chapters if your feedback indicates I should. Perhaps you'll think I've totally mischaracterized Jimmy!
Maybe I shouldn't have told you the story was complete, but it is so disappointing to start reading a story only to find that it is never finished, and I thought you'd appreciate knowing that wouldn't be the case.
That all said, since your feedback is "I want more, sooner", here is the next installment.
Chapter 3: Friday Night
Annie opened the door and stepped aside to let him in. At home, still in jeans and a blouse, but without vest, holsters, guns and badge she seemed smaller and more vulnerable. He looked at her closely; she looked tired and stressed, but at least she didn't look like she was still angry with him.
They spread the fax and the file out on the kitchen counter, read through the tip report and compared the composite to the old mug shots of William Frost. It was hard for Jimmy to tell if they were the same man, and even Annie seemed to be unsure. She looked at the pictures silently for a long time, and then gasped: "Wait jus' a sec." She went quickly to the bedroom and came back with a shoebox. Rifling through the box, she pulled out an old photo and laid it on the counter beside the composite. It was of Annie and her father, Annie maybe eleven or twelve years old, squinting into the sun, backpacks at their feet, a rock formation in the background. William Frost was bearded, his hair almost to his shoulders, instantly recognizable as the man in the composite. If Amarillo found him, it would be the right man.
Annie pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut, visibly upset; she began nervously to file the papers away into their folders. Jimmy stilled her busy hands - "Boots, leave it for a few minutes" - and led her into the sitting room.
She dropped onto the sofa, rubbed her hands over her face and through her hair, "Don't even know how I feel, Jimmy. He's been outta my life so long, an' I thought I'd never see or hear from him again. If he's really turned up, what am I to do with that?"
He sat down beside her and took back her hand, softly rubbing his thumb across her knuckles.
"You already know what I think, Annie. I've told you before. He's a bad guy, like other bad guys, you know that better'n anybody. And if he's a bad guy like other bad guys, he should be arrested and put in prison. He's not a father in any way I understand, and he doesn't deserve to have you waste a thought on him."
Looking down at their clasped hands, avoiding eye contact; "I don't even know how fathers are supposed to be, Jimmy. To you he wasn't the father he should have been, but to me he's the only one I ever had."
"If they can find him, Annie, they need to bring him in. Nothing else is right, with what he's done. But once they have him you could decide to see him, if you wanted to. Much as I'd like to see you put him right out of your mind, maybe it would be best."
"I feel like I should go up there and help in Amarillo. Like I might know things that would help them find him, bring him in. Be able to get in his head better'n they can."
"You do, Annie, and it could all go wrong. What would he do if he saw you? How would you react if you saw him? Bad for bringing him in, and bad for you."
Still she didn't look away from their hands.
"You hear me, Annie?"
After a long moment she looked up into his face. "I hear you."
They sat quietly after that, close on the sofa, feeling after the tension of the day some of the old ease they'd lost over the past few weeks, unwilling to give it up. They chatted about work, both of them avoiding the cases that had stressed their partnership, until finally Jimmy, looking at his watch, rose reluctantly to go.
Standing by the door to see him out, Annie said, "Natalie will have been wondering where you've been."
"No. I've been in the bunks again. Brought my grandfather's gun with me this time."
"I wondered, but I hadn't seen Gordon. Didn't want to ask. She'll change her mind and take you back again, Jimmy."
"Even the guys don't know." He gave her a long look. "It wasn't her this time, Annie. I left. And I won't change my mind."
Her eyebrows and the quirk of her mouth showed he had surprised her, but she said, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. You've got enough on your plate without worryin' about me when there's nothin' to worry about. Goodnight, Annie."
She surprised him then, stepped closer, reached up, hand on his shoulder, and kissed him swiftly. Stepped back, before he had time to think or react. "Thank you for comin', Jimmy; thank you for talkin' me through this."