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responsibility?
    “We all have obligations in this life that go beyond boundaries.”
    She had already gone above and beyond the call involving herself with Josie. But, even without Josie, she would have felt this case pulling at her, would have felt Pam Bichon pulling at her from that limbo inhabited by the restless souls of victims.
    With all the controversy swirling around the case, Pam was being pushed out of view little by little. No one had helped her when she was alive and believed that Marcus Renard was stalking her, and now that she was dead, attention was being diverted elsewhere.
    “Maybe there wouldn’t be a case if Judge Edmonds had taken Pam seriously in the first place,” she said, setting her fork down and abandoning her meal. “What’s the point of having a stalking law if judges are just gonna blow off every complaint that comes their way as ‘boys will be boys’—”
    “We’ve had this conversation,” A.J. reminded her. “For Edmonds to have granted that restraining order, the law would have to be worded so that looking crossways at a woman would be considered criminal. What Pam Bichon brought before the court did not constitute stalking. Renard asked her out, he gave her presents—”
    “He slashed her tires and cut her phone line and—”
    “She had no proof the person doing those things was Marcus Renard. He asked her out, she turned him down, he was unhappy. There’s a big leap from unhappy to psychotic.”
    “So said Judge Edmonds, who probably still thinks it’s okay for men to hit women over the head with mastodon bones and drag them into caves by their hair,” Annie said with disgust. “But then that makes him about average around here, doesn’t it?”
    “Hey, objection!”
    She broke her scowl with a look of contrition. “It goes without saying, you’re above average. I’m sorry I’m such poor company tonight. I’m gonna pass on the movie, go home, soak in the tub, go to bed.”
    A.J. reached across the table and hooked a fingertip inside the simple gold bracelet she wore, caressing the tender skin of her inner wrist. “Those aren’t necessarily solitary pursuits,” he whispered, his eyes rich with a warm promise he had fulfilled from time to time in the past when the currents of their attraction had managed to cross paths.
    Annie drew her hand back on the excuse of reaching for her pocketbook. “Not tonight, Romeo. I have a concussion.”
     
    T hey said their good-byes in the tiny parking lot alongside the restaurant, Annie offering her cheek for A.J.’s good-night kiss when he aimed for her lips. Their parting only added to the restlessness she had been feeling all day, as if everything in the world were just a half beat out of sync. She sat behind the wheel of the Jeep, listening with one ear to the radio as A.J. drove out onto La Rue Dumas and turned south.
    “You’re on KJUN, all talk all the time. Home of the giant jackpot giveaway. This is your
Devil’s Advocate
, Owen Onofrio. Our topic tonight: today’s controversial decision in the Renard case. I’ve got Ron from Henderson on line one. Go ahead, Ron.”
    “I think it’s a disgrace that criminals have all the rights in the courts anymore. He had that woman’s ring in his house. By God, that oughta be all she wrote right there. Strap him down and light him up!”
    “But what if the detective planted the evidence? What happens when we can’t trust the people sworn to protect us? Jennifer in Bayou Breaux on line two.”
    “Well, I’m just scared sick by all of it. What’s anyone supposed to think? I mean, the police are all over this Renard fella, but what if he
didn’t
do it? I heard they have secret evidence that links this murder to those Bayou Strangler murders. I’m a woman lives alone. I work the late shift down at the lamp factory—”
    Annie switched the radio off, not in the mood. She often listened to the talk station to get a feel for public opinion. But opinions on this case