He nodded and they went into the kitchen. "We found the Peters' kid, so that ends another case." He dropped to a chair and watched her fixing the coffee. "You're up early, Beth." A shadow crossed her face momentarily. "I had a dream, Nolan. A bad dream." "About Nick?" She nodded and set a cup of coffee before him. The tears were close again, but Brice hadn't seen them fall over Nick for a long while. It was ridiculous the way she mooned over the guy, but there was no understanding women. "You ought to stop dwelling on him, honey," Nolan told her. "It doesn't do any good." "He's alive," she said, softly. "You know better than that. If he was alive, we'd have found him. Men just do not drop out of sight in the Twentieth Century." Beth lifted a hand to brush her hair into place and sat down to sip at her coffee. Nolan studied her. She actually believed that her husband was alive and that he would return to her. He hoped not. It was a selfish thing to think about, but he was in love with her; he'd have had her long ago if it wouldn't have been for Nick and his dark good looks. He mouthed a swallow of coffee and settled the cup in its saucer. She was looking at him. "Is there any news, Nolan?" "About Nick? No." He touched her arm. "They've given up ... and so should you. Honey, you're young, beautiful. Hell, another woman would have gone out and had a ball. "Listen, there's a lousy show on down in Everett. Want to go?" She smiled. "Thanks, but you're probably tired from hunting for the Peters' kid..." "I feel fine." She shook her head. "Nolan, I know how you feel about me. I'm very flattered. But ... but I have to accustom to his loss in my own way. I'm sorry." Nolan forced a smile. "That's the way the mop flops," he mused. "I'll be around, when you are." He finished his coffee in silence. "Well, I have to get moving, make out a report and all. Thanks for the coffee, Beth." She nodded, but remained staring into her cup. Nolan went into the front room, picked up his hat and went out into the morning to climb into his car. When he had started it and headed back toward Everett, he found himself struggling with the feeling that he was being cheated. After all, he reasoned with himself, why should a guy have to play second fiddle to a man who was probably dead. If Nick Danson were alive, it'd be different; but dead, and that was an almost sure thing, he felt cheated. Beth could learn to love him. She could forget. Hell, a lot of women lost their men for some reason or another, but they accustomed, they altered their lives. If a man dropped the reins, some other guy should pick them up. It was only natural.