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thought about what a major screw-up he was.  He'd give anything for a do-over with Frankie.  What was he thinking trapping Frankie against the car like that and trying to kiss her?  All he'd accomplished was to make her angrier and now he'd have to work that much harder to get her back.
     
     
     
    The apartment house where Billy James lived was a converted gray Victorian with white shuttered windows and a porch that wrapped around the front. Lane had liked old houses since his parents fixed up a Craftsman cottage years ago.  He liked the beauty of the woodwork inside and out as well as the small design details that were missing in modern homes.
     
    According to the mailboxes inside the entry way, Billy lived in 2B on the second floor.  As apartment houses go, especially those near a college campus, this one was very quiet. There was no loud music with the bass pounding through the walls. Lane slipped up the stairs and knocked on Billy's door.  No answer.  He put his ear near the door and thought he heard music or a television.  He knocked again.  Still no answer.  Just as he placed his hand on the doorknob and twisted, the door jerked open.  A young, raven-haired woman in a pink t-shirt and cotton sleep pants appeared holding a flat iron.
     
    "May I help you?"  She looked him up and down.  “Can you make it fast?  I’m getting ready to go to class.”
     
    "Yes, my name is Detective Lane Hansen and I'm looking for Billy James."  He pulled his suit jacket back to show her his badge.
     
    "He's my boyfriend.  Has he done something wrong?" 
     
    "Is he here?"
     
    "Yes, he's sleeping.  I'll get him."  She headed toward the back of the apartment.
     
    Although she didn't invite him in, Lane followed her into the living room. While she disappeared into what he guessed was a bedroom in the back, Lane took the opportunity to look around.  There was a flat screen TV hanging on the wall, and white sheets, instead of curtains, covered the windows.  A worn sofa and chair sat next to a small bookcase filled with textbooks and CDs.  A few framed photos featured the young woman with Billy James in various happy poses for the camera.  Nowhere in sight were any photos of Billy James with Mandy Morris.  A stack of letters lay on the coffee table and Lane leafed through them — bills, letter from an aunt, and junk mail.  Footsteps came down the hall toward him.  He dropped the mail back on the table and turned to see a disheveled Billy wearing a wrinkled white t-shirt and jeans walk into the room.
     
    "Hello, Billy.  My name is Lane Hansen.  I'm a detective and I'm here to talk to you about Mandy Morris.”
     
    When Billy heard the name Mandy Morris, a flash of panic crossed his face as he glanced at his girlfriend.
     
    “Marianne, aren’t you late for class?”
     
    "Mind if I sit down?"  Not waiting for his answer, Lane claimed a spot on the sofa and sat down.  Billy sat on a nearby chair.
     
    Marianne looked at her watch and ran into the bedroom.  Moments later she reappeared dressed and clutching a stack of books to her chest.  She kissed Billy on the cheek then rushed out the door and down the stairs.
     
    "I take it you didn't want your friend to overhear our conversation?"
     
    "She's my fiancée.  We're getting married in June."
     
    "Fiancée?  Really?  I bet she wasn't too happy last year when you told her about Mandy Morris being pregnant."
     
    "She can't know about that."  There was an urgency in Billy’s voice.
     
    "Interesting.  So she doesn't know."  This could be good leverage if Billy decided not to cooperate.
     
    "Listen, I'll answer your questions and tell you anything you want to know, but don't tell Marianne about Mandy and me."
     
    "Well, that depends on how honest you are with me.  Doesn't it?"
     
    "So what's going on?  Is Mandy trying to say I'm the father and going for child support?"
     
    Lane leaned back in his chair and stared at Billy for a long moment.