First Kill All the Lawyers by Sarah Shankman

exit if I ever saw one.”
    “So what are you going to do about it?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Nothing? What do you mean, nothing?” Sam demanded.
    “Samantha, you know as well as I do that Sheriff Dodd’s judgment is law in his jurisdiction. If he says the man died accidentally, he did. Open and shut, no autopsy, no inquest. What I want to know is what you’re going to do about it.”
    “Me?”
    “I can’t imagine that you’re going to stop here, once you’ve got going. Not with a body, for Christ’s sake.”
    “It’s not my job. It’s police business.”
    “Ha! Since when did that ever stop you?”
    “How do you know what would stop me?”
    He gave her a look. “I’ve read every word you ever wrote in the Chronicle , Sam. I know you don’t get those kinds of stories by sitting on your sweet can waiting for the cops to feed you.”
    She ignored the anatomical reference, and she was not going to ask him why he’d read the San Francisco paper.
    “Besides,” he continued, “you’re ignoring the fact that there’s not going to be any investigation.” He waved Bernice over and requested a fresh carafe of coffee. Then suddenly he grasped Sam’s hand as she reached for the sugar. “Come on, Sam. Let’s do this.”
    She jerked back as if the waitress had just scalded her. “What are you talking about?”
    “I’m talking about working together on this story, this case, whatever you want to call it.” His voice dropped. “I’m talking about spending some time with you.”
    Sam pushed her hands against the table, trying to get as much space between them as possible. She shook her head. She opened her mouth, but no words came.
    He looked straight at her, unblinking, unwavering. “I made a terrible mistake when I let you go. I’ve paid for it ever since. I’m sorry. I’ve always been so terribly, terribly sorry.”
    She half-stood.
    “Don’t go.”
    “I don’t want to talk about this.” She held her hands in front of her as if to ward him off.
    “Please. Just listen. I have so much I want to say to you. Every time I went to San Francisco, I’d hang out in front of your house for days, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. And since you’ve been back in Atlanta, I’ve visited my mother so much she’s asked me if I want my old room back.”
    His old room that she could see from her bedroom window. The room she’d yelled curses at just the other night.
    “I want to go back to that summer and do it all over,” he said. “Do it differently this time, so we have a life together.”
    “What are you talking about? What about your wife?”
    “Linda…” He shook his head, frowning. “It was a mistake, for both of us. Now she’s met someone else. I always hoped she would. We’ve filed for a divorce.”
    “Well, that’s great, that’s just great!” Sam was out of the booth now. “I don’t give a damn about you or your marriage. Do you understand that?” Heads turned. She was yelling. She couldn’t stop herself. “What makes you think I give a shit about how you feel, about me or anything else? You think you can just waltz back into my life after all these years? Are you crazy?”
    “Probably.”
    “Well, you can take your crazy and shove it!” She headed for the door, picking up speed, out the door. She was wet. Shit! She’d left her umbrella. Forget it. She slammed the car door. Hard.
    When she glanced over, he was standing outside her window in the pouring rain.
    “You didn’t hear a word I said,” he yelled.
    She looked up at his wet face. “I heard you, Beau.” She rolled the window down just a crack. “I heard every word you said. But you said them about twenty years too late. What you think now has nothing to do with me. I don’t owe you.”
    “I never said you did. I just want to spend time with you, Sam. I want to show you how sorry I am that I was such a creep.”
    She turned the key in the ignition. “Get away from my car.”
    “You going to run over