Beginner's Luck

His compliment, plus the way he'd patted her arm, made Joyce uncomfortable. He was being a little too friendly for a police officer, she thought. But he had, after all, just saved her from possibly being hit by a car. Because of that, maybe he felt especially protective.

When they rounded the turn in the lane, she looked up and spotted her car. She half expected to find Stevens's partner standing near it, the suspect in custody. Instead there wasn't anybody there.

"Where's your partner?" she asked.

Frowning, Stevens shook his head. He didn't answer right away. As they walked toward her car, he finally answered, "Do you know what probably happened? Rick must've caught him. I can't imagine anyone getting away from Rick---he was a star sprinter in college. He must have caught the suspect and taken him in."

"To the police station?" Joyce asked.

"That's probably just what he did." Shaking his head as if amused by his partner, he said, "Rick's a real hot dog. He probably hauled the guy in, all by himself. Then he wouldn't have to share the collar with me."

"Doesn't that make you mad?" Joyce asked.

Stevens shrugged, then smiled in a carefree way. "I'm an easygoing guy. It takes a lot to make me mad."

They stopped beside Joyce's car. She was glad to see that none of its windows were broken. The lock buttons all appeared to be in the down position. She sighed with relief. "It doesn't look like he got in."

"We'd better make sure," Stevens said. Joyce took the key case from her purse.

"Let me," he told her. She gave the leather case to him. Choosing the right key, he slid it into the door, turned it, and pulled the handle.

Joyce hissed through her teeth.

"What?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Nothing," she said. "I'm just a little nervous."

"If he did get in, you probably just loused up his fingerprints," she thought. But she didn't say it because she didn't want to embarrass him.

Stevens ducked low and slid a hand under the drivers seat. He straightened up slowly, shook his head, and turned to Joyce. "Nothing there," he said. "I'm afraid he got the camera and binoculars. He probably got in using a coat hanger to flip up the lock button. But don't worry. I'd bet a month's pay that Rick has the guy safely behind bars by now."

"I sure hope so," Joyce said.

"My van's just over there." He nodded toward a row of cars parked across the lane. "I'll take you over to the station. If we're in luck, your dad's equipment will be there and you can fill out a complaint against the suspect."

"If the suspect is there," Joyce said, feeling discouraged.

"Don't worry, he will be."

Joyce followed him as he stepped between a nice, shiny car and a beat-up green van. The van had a broken tail light, a Nevada license plate, and a crumpled side panel.

Stevens opened the van's passenger door.

Joyce stopped. "This is yours?"

He gave her a sheepish smile. "Kind of a mess, isn't it? We use it for undercover work."

"If this is your van," she asked, "how did Rick take the thief to the station?"

"In his car. We meet here sometimes because this mall is a lot closer to Rick's apartment than the station." Stevens's smile turned bright. "What's going on inside that pretty little head of yours?"

Joyce took a deep breath. She was getting very nervous. She didn't want to seem rude, but something about all this wasn't quite right. Rubbing her sweaty hands on her skirt, she said, "Would you mind showing me some identification?"