"Roberts, Nora - Divine Evil(1)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora)

In the winter it was a postcard, a scene from ItТs A Wonderful Life, with snow
banking the stonewalls and Christmas lights burning for weeks.
From a copТs point of view, it was a cakewalk. The occasional vandalismЧkids
soaping windows or breaking themЧtraffic violations, the weekly
drunk-and-disorderly or domestic dispute. In the years he had been back, Cam had
dealt with one assault-and-battery, some petty theft, a half dozen malicious
mischiefs, occasional bar fights, and a handful of DWIs.
Not even enough to fill one good night of work in Washington, D.C., where heТd
been a cop for more than seven years.
When heТd made the decision to resign in D.C. and return to Emmitsboro, his
associates had told him heТd be back in six months, screaming with boredom. He
had a reputation for being a real street cop, by turns icy and explosive,
accustomed, even acclimated, to facing down junkies and dealers.
And heТd liked it, liked the feeling of walking on the edge, cruising the
streets, sweeping up bits and pieces of human garbage. HeТd made detective, an
ambition heТd held secret inside him since the day he joined the force. And heТd
stayed on the streets because he felt at home there, because he felt right.
But then, one dripping summer afternoon, he and his partner had chased a
twenty-year-old petty dealer and his screaming hostage into a crumbling building
in South East.
Everything had changed.
"Cameron?" A hand on CamФs shoulder broke him out of his reverie. He looked up
at Emmitsboro's mayor.
"Mr. Atherton."
"Mind if I join you?" With a quick smile, James Atherton settled his long, thin
body into the vinyl seat opposite Cam. He was a man of angles, with a bony,
slightly melancholy face and pale blue eyesЧan Ichabod Crane of a manЧwhite,
freckled skin, sandy hair, long neck, long limbs.
There was a ballpoint pen and a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses in the
pocket of his sports coat. He always wore sports coats and shiny black, laced
shoes. Cam couldnТt recall seeing Atherton in tennis shoes, or jeans or shorts.
He was fifty-two and looked like what he was, a high school science teacher and
public servant. He had been mayor of Emmitsboro, hardly a full-time job, since
Cam was a teenager. It was an arrangement that suited Atherton and the town
perfectly.
"Coffee?" Cam asked and automatically signaled for the waitress, though she was
already heading their way, pot in hand.
"Thank you, Alice," Atherton said as she poured.
"Get you some breakfast, Mayor?"
"No, I had mine already." But he eyed the plastic cake plate on the counter.
"Those doughnuts fresh?"
"Just this morning."
He gave a little sigh as he added cream and two whopping spoons of sugar to his
coffee. "I donТt suppose youТve got any of those apple filledЧwith the cinnamon
on top?"
"Got one with your name on it." Alice gave him a wink and walked off to fetch
the doughnut.
"No willpower," Atherton said as he took his first delicate sip of coffee.
"Between you and the gatepost, it frustrates the wife that I can eat like a
horse and never put on weight."