First Offense by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg Page A

talk Glen out of filing charges against him, this poor kid would really be bitter. He’d never help another person the rest of his life.
    “That district attorney was there,” Sawyer interjected, as if he could read Ann’s mind. “You know. Glen Hopkins.”
    “I didn’t mean him,” Ann said.
    Sawyer continued, “Don’t they teach those guys first aid? I mean, he didn’t seem to have a clue about what to do. All he did was just stand there and look at you like a lame dick. My dad’s a doctor, so…”
    So, Ann thought. Glen wasn’t quite as cool in a crisis as he was in a courtroom. Then she thought of an ulterior reason he might be so determined to file against Sawyer. He was her lover and he’d panicked. Sawyer had shown him up.
    “Why are you asking me all these questions?” Sawyer said, getting more restless by the second. “I thought you asked me here to tell me something good, not interrogate me like another cop.”
    “I’m sorry,” Ann said, embarrassed. “I really am grateful for what you did, Jimmy. Why don’t you sit down a minute? It’s a little difficult to carry on a conversation this way.”
    Sawyer was standing next to a large artificial palm tree. He looked behind him nervously and then back at Ann. “I have to go. I don’t want to sit down.”
    “Whatever,” Ann said, frustrated by the way he was acting. The waitress had arrived, ready to take their order. “Are you sure you don’t want something? Maybe a soft drink or some ice cream?”
    When Sawyer didn’t answer, Ann shrugged and started ordering. All the while, though, she watched him out of the comer of her eye. He was staring at a plastic leaf on the palm tree as though it contained the mysteries of the universe. As soon as the waitress left, Ann said his name several times, and he didn’t respond. Suddenly the picture came clear. He was high on drugs. Exactly what, she didn’t know, but she knew now why he wouldn’t eat, why he couldn’t sit still, why his palms were sweaty.
    Ann always trusted her instincts, and they told her Sawyer was nothing more than just another screwed-up kid on drugs. He might have stayed straight for his day in court, but Jimmy Sawyer was a user. Peering up at him, she tried to see if his pupils were dilated. “What are you on, Jimmy?”
    “What?” he said, giggling as if she had just said something outrageously funny.
    “Are you on drugs right now?” Ann’s guess was LSD or speed.
    “No way, man. I have to go.” He turned and quickly walked away.
    “Hey,” Ann yelled, shooting to her feet. “Get back here.” He was her probationer. She couldn’t let him get away with this no matter what he’d done for her. The last time she’d tried to cut a probationer some slack, the man had taken five hits of LSD and then later stabbed his wife, saying she was a demon from hell. The girl had been only twenty-three years old, and the couple had three tiny babies. Ann didn’t take chances anymore. Her responsibilities to both the court and the community were too grave. But Sawyer was already out the door, and Ann was too weak to chase him down.
    “What a world,” she said, sitting back down in her seat. She would have to test Sawyer for narcotics. The way it looked, the test would come back dirty and Ann would end up responsible for sending the man who’d saved her life to jail.

Chapter 5

    A nn pulled out of the government center parking lot in a white county car, proceeding on a case that was uppermost in her mind. She would contact one of the victims in the Delvecchio rape, the one who had been Glen’s teacher. Prior to the brutal attack, Estelle Summer had led an independent and active existence, even though she was in her mid-seventies. According to her children and neighbors, she’d had her own comfortable home, her friends, and her club work. And she’d been a neat, well-groomed woman, pretty for her age. That is, until she met up with Randy Delvecchio. The rapist had been waiting