A rainy day, sad but beautiful.

She must have been five foot six, about 125 pounds, fit and trim, but round where it counts. Hair, the color of mahogany touched by the rays of a setting sun fell in waves across her shoulders. Her skin was milky white and smooth, the color of marble. She opened her full, pale pink lips as if to speak, then stopped and smoothed out her blue dress.

It's a good thing she stopped, for I was still reeling. I was trying to unlock my gaze from the wells of sorrow that were her eyes. If I had been a knight of the old days I would have sought out and destroyed whatever had caused such sorrow to fill those beautiful eyes.

I cleared my throat, and the woman must have taken it to mean that I was waiting for her to speak. "Oh, I sorry", she said in a voice that could haunt men's dreams, "It's just that I've never been to a place...I mean I've never...I...I...” she suddenly broke down, sobbing.

I jumped up and rushed to her side. Pulling up a chair I got her to sit down and tell me what was wrong.

She told me a story I've heard a thousand times before. She was young and met a man. She fell in love. They got married; it should have been happily ever after. But as time goes by, she notices that he seems to have to work late more and more, and when he comes home he doesn't touch her, but just goes to sleep. The phone rings and when she answers there's nobody there. Finally she went to surprise him for lunch at work one day, and sees him get into a car with another woman. She follows them to a motel and sees them go into a room, laughing and kissing. She confronts him later, he denies everything, and she calls him a liar and says it's over.

I sit on my desk across from her. "So, you want me to get some evidence of an affair for a divorce...." I start, but she quickly interrupts me. "No, no, no," she says wiping away tears from her eyes. "When I told him it's over, he said that it wasn't over, he wasn't going to lose the election because of some scandal."

A cold wave ran through me, "Election?" I asked.

"Yes," she said,” My name is Sara, my husband is Councilman Elric Handler"

Elric Handler, one of the youngest council members in city history. Buzz on the street was that he was ruthless and corrupt, but he was able to get money for a new stadium project without raising taxes, mostly though back door dealing with the Mob and the unions. Handler had some scary connections.

"I see your problem," I said, "Has he threatened you?"

"Not overtly, he's too smart for that, but I get the feeling that if I file for divorce I might have an accident." Sara responded. "Please, I've heard that you're a good, decent, honest man... I can't go to the police. Elric has too many in his pocket. I can't go to my family or friends, he knows them all...I have no where else to turn."

I though about it for a while. I had heard about some stories about Sara, and they said that she was a good person. From the little time I had spent talking to her, I felt that the stories were probably true. Sure, she might have been just trying to use me as a way to get her cheating husband. A convenient alibi while her husband goes off a bridge. I've been used like that more than once before, but this didn't feel like it.

"I have a safe house just outside the city." I said. I wrote an address on a piece of paper, "In the next two days, slip out and make sure you're not followed. Go here and you'll have a safe place to think and decide what you want to do."

She looked at me, those eyes melting my soul away, "Will you be there? Please... I don't want to be alone right now."