The Marriage Beat. Doreen Roberts

instinct was to find someone else to take the case. Anyone else. This woman was trouble. It wasn’t just her silky blond hair, or her full, warm lips and mouth-watering figure, though that was a deadly enough combination. It was her tone of voice.

      If there was one thing Tyler had learned to avoid, it was a pushy female, and this one had all the earmarks of a bulldozer temperament.

      Deliberately he poised his pencil over the pad. “What did he look like?”

      “About five-eight or nine, skinny, dressed in jeans and a dark jacket.” She paused, frowning in concentration, then went on, “He has long, dark, straggly hair and needs a shave and a good wash by the looks of him. I’ll know him when I see him, I can promise you. Please, hurry.” A note of desperation crept into her voice. “I can’t lose my purse.... I just can’t. My whole life is in there.”

      Her sudden look of vulnerability struck home. Instincts or not, this woman was in trouble and it was his duty to help. He happened to be on his way out anyway, he argued with his conscience as he snatched a pair of keys from the board on the wall and headed for the door.

      Outside in the hot summer afternoon, he was halfway down the steps before she caught up with him. “Wait a minute. I’m coming with you,” she announced, with a note in her voice that dared him to refuse.

      He was tempted to do just that. One look at her stricken face, however, and he relented. “All right. You can show me where he went.” He led her around the back of the building, did a fast check of the squad car, then opened the door on the passenger side. “Get in.”

      For a moment she looked a little apprehensive, but then she slid into the seat and sat back, her shoulders hunched.

      He climbed in beside her with a sense of impending disaster, though he wasn’t sure what prompted the feeling. He reached for his radio and called in his report, then started the engine. “I’m Officer Jackson,” he said, as he backed the car out of its space. “I didn’t get your name.”

      “It’s Megan Summers.”

      “All right, Megan, where did you say this incident happened?”

      “On the South Park Blocks, just off Clay.” Her jaw was tense, he noticed, and her hands were thrust between her knees below the hem of her short black skirt. “I chased after him all the way down to Park, but then he went down an alley and I lost sight of him.”

      Tyler frowned. “You went after him? That was a mistake. You should never attempt to apprehend a criminal. You must always assume that the suspect is armed and ready to use deadly force.”

      “I wasn’t going to apprehend him. I just wanted to see where he went.”

      “That’s just as dangerous. If he realizes you’re following him, he could easily take a shot at you to slow you down. That’s a sure way of getting yourself killed.”

      She gave him a mutinous scowl. “I’m not a child. I can take care of myself.”

      He smiled. “Lady, no woman is capable of taking care of herself on the streets. Or few men for that matter.”

      Her expression told him she was unconvinced. “This is Portland, Oregon. You make it sound like one of those big-city slums.”

      “When you’re facing a hunted man with a gun, it could be an amusement park for all the difference it makes.” He braked at the light and sent her a stern look. “A bullet can kill you just as dead.”

      She lifted her chin. “Well, I think you’re overreacting. I didn’t see any gun. I knew what I was doing.”

      That he doubted very much. All his earlier instincts had been on the button. This woman could be trouble. There was nothing more dangerous than a vulnerable woman who believed she was invincible. Especially one who refused to be convinced otherwise.

      Obviously Ms. Summers resented being told what was good for her. He’d met women like her before. In fact he’d married one. The fact that the marriage had ended in disaster just went to prove he knew what he was talking about.

      Giving up the argument for the time being, he pulled out into the middle lane. “We’ll cruise the streets for a while, but I doubt if we’ll spot him now.”

      “We must find him. I absolutely refuse to let him have my purse.”

      “Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”

      “Nothing other than what I’ve already told you.”

      “Then tell me again.” He listened to her description, his gaze raking the street on both sides as he drove up Main.

      “I lost him when he turned down there,” she said, waving her hand at the corner, where a large truck was just backing out of the loading zone.

      Tyler waited for the truck to pull out, then followed it around the corner. The main rush of the lunch hour was over, but there were still enough people hurrying down the sidewalks to make it difficult to pick out an alleged purse snatcher.

      “I doubt if we’ll spot him now,” he said, after they’d driven several blocks. “He’s had too much time to go underground.”

      She looked annoyed. “There must be something you can do. Can’t you call in some help or something?”

      He hadn’t really expected to spot the suspect. Too much time had elapsed and there had been too many places to hide. He’d done his best with what little he’d had to go on, and he resented the implication that he was shirking his duty.

      “I’ve done all I can for the time being,” he said evenly. “I’ve investigated the scene. Now we’ll go back to the station and fill out a report. I’ll give you some mug shots to look at and see if you can pick him out.”

      There was no mistaking the antagonism in her voice when she answered him. “Meanwhile he’s out there spending my money. Besides, I’m supposed to be back at work. I’m real late as it is.”

      “I’m sure they’ll understand when you explain the situation.” The light ahead of him turned green and he stepped on the accelerator. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her hands curl into small fists. She wore no ring on her third finger, he noticed.

      “Reports are not going to get my purse back. I’d rather be out on the streets looking for the man.”

      “Risking your life. Not to mention the lives of other people who might be in the line of fire. I suggest you leave the police work to the people who are qualified to do it.”

      She started to say something, bit back the words, then said carefully, “I’m afraid I don’t have time to fill out your reports. You can drop me off right here, thank you.”

      He could just imagine the effort it had taken her to control her temper. He almost felt sorry for her. “Well, Ms. Summers, I’m afraid I’ll have to insist. A crime has been committed and it’s my duty to do everything I can to apprehend the suspect. If you have any hopes at all of recovering your property, I suggest you cooperate with me. I promise you I’ll be just as quick as I can.”

      She slumped back against the seat so hard she jarred his shoulders. She kept quiet, however, and he pursed his lips in satisfaction. First round to him.

      Megan was still fuming by the time they reached the station. Officer Jackson, she decided, had to be the most arrogant, patronizing, overbearing cop on the force. Trust her luck to be stuck with someone like him. She followed him into a noisy room filled with desks and people, resenting every step. It was really too bad that a man with his looks should be so downright domineering.

      He wasn’t all that tall, about five-ten she figured, but he had the kind of athletic build that took lots of strenuous work to maintain. She couldn’t help noticing that the pants of his uniform fitted snugly across his hips, and his waistline was firm above his belt.

      She let her gaze travel up his back to his straight dark hair. He’d worn sunglasses in the