by Sue Perry
"What's the worst that can happen?" Hernandez asked. He sounded as casual as I felt. It was like worrying about the accumulation of dental x-rays.
Anwyl spoke just as casually. "The worst includes obliteration of consciousness. Death."
I lost my shrug. "We don't know nothin' about no Frame Travel, so we rely on you to keep us safe."
"As I have sworn to do," he nodded. "You nonetheless require information for the times when you must make decisions without me." He stood. "We must move our witnesses."
And so we headed out. Ziti would hide with Ben, and Zasu, with Edith. Ziti and Zasu joined Hernandez in the truck cab, Anwyl and I sat in the truck bed. Without shifting position or seeming attentive, Anwyl watched the streets in all directions. I watched him watch everything until my pocket got hot. From my pocket, I extracted my phone, to find it cranking overtime, delivering beaucoup megabytes. Apparently my provider doesn't have good service outside this Frame, and I now received all the texts and messages that should have arrived while I was gone. I skimmed my incomings.
Ben had left two voice and two text messages. For him, that was a lot. The four were identical. Call me as soon as you get this. That sounded serious.
Detective Henson had called twice. Nica, give me a call when you can. I didn't know her well enough to know whether that sounded urgent or routine.
Jenn had called, but left no message - damn, who knew when she could call again! She had promised to leave messages if anything was wrong, so I assumed she was okay.
One phone message reminded me that it was time for my annual eye exam.
There were messages from my cops, alternating turns, every eight hours on the dot. At each occasion, a cop stated his name and ended the call.
I'd received two calls from the bail bond place.
And then there were the 23 texts and 27 phone messages from Kathleen Kimball. My lawyer. The first of these were terse and professional, but they grew ever shaggier and uptight. What is the opposite of uptight, anyway? Why hadn't downloose ever caught on? Nica, focus! She reminded me that as a condition of my bail, I must not leave the County and I must confirm my whereabouts with three telephone check-ins per day. I had missed the last four check-ins and I had better be in a ditch with amnesia. Even then, I should have remembered to call my attorney, who could only help clients who help themselves.
I would have to deal with my legal status later. With each bump of the truck ride, pain blasted me. While I was away, the Cobra's injury hadn't hurt any worse than a bad sunburn. By the time we piled into Hernandez' truck to leave the Henrietta, it didn't hurt any worse than a cavity filled without Novocain. And by the time we drove through Koreatown, it didn't hurt any worse than amputation without anesthesia.
I shrieked and this earned me Anwyl's attention.
"Nica? What troubles you?" He touched my arm gently and reared back in surprise. "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" His fingers touched me again, to explore the hurt area gently. It still showed no outward sign of injury.
"This wasn't how I imagined you touching my chest, actually."
"Nor I," he said, unless by then I was delirious and imagined that part. "How long has your shoulder been like this?"
"Like what?"
He moved my hand to the back of my shoulder. I could barely feel our fingers pressing into my skin, which looked normal yet felt slick and thick, like I'd once had a third degree burn there.
"Oh! Em! Gee! Will all my skin turn like that? Is it permanent?"
"Time will show us those answers - ah, you have protection." His fingers had found Anya's lanyard. I touched it also.
"Anya gave this to me. She put it around my waist and at first it made me more aware of - I don't know, danger, or deception, I was still figuring that out when the Cobra got me. Now it reduces the pain, or it did until lately. Or maybe it's still helping but the pain is that much worse. Don't take it off to find out!" I babbled in lieu of screaming.
Anwyl had tried to interrupt; now he touched a finger to my lips. "Continue to speak if that helps you fight the pain. I will return with haste."
He stood, murmured the way that Anya had done when we jumped off the roof, and disappeared over the side of the truck while we were doing about 35 mph. Through the haze of pain my reactions were slow and by the time I was startled by his departure, he had reappeared next to me, holding a glass jar. By the time he was seated, he had removed the lid and begun to rub salve into my skin. It stung like menthol but smelled like wet fur.
"That feels - slightly better."
"Any lessening bodes well. The purpose of this salve is to slow the damage."
"Slow? The injury could get even worse?"
"It assuredly will get worse, despite Anya's talisman or my salve. But these will protect you sufficiently for another few days. When we deliver our witnesses to safety, you will get a true healing to eradicate the poison."
"Why did it hurt less when we were in the other Frames?"
"The Frame makes no matter. It is the nature of the poison to wax and wane, but each waxing brings greater pain and more damage."
"I didn't realize this would be such a high-risk job."
"The dangers will continue to grow. There is no dishonor in stopping, should they be too grave for you."
"How do you think I'm going to respond to that?"
The salve, the lanyard, and one of Anwyl's endorphinating smiles. I was feeling pretty good right now.
"You were well chosen, Nica."
I felt improved enough to have a lot of questions, but they would have to wait. Hernandez had just parked outside Ben's place.
It was close to dawn, so late that even Ben was asleep. He opened the door after just a minute of discreet knocking.
"Nica?"
"It's important, Ben."
He stepped back to swing the door wide and looked at each of us as we filed inside. He and Hernandez tilted their chins to each other: what up, bro'. He offered reassuring smiles to Ziti and Zasu. He matched Anwyl's cool appraising stare. He gave me a twitch of a grin. "More customers?"
"Clients. This is Ziti. We need to leave him with you for a day or two. Nobody can know he's here."
"Okay."
"Keep him safe, Ben."
"Is somebody after him?" He noted Anwyl and Hernandez, who roamed the apartment, checking the latches and adjusting the blinds on doors and windows.
"Yes, and they'll be hunting for him - but they won't know that you have any connection to him."
"Then you better get out of here before they figure it out."
"I owe you."
"Always vice versa, Neeks."
"You left me some messages."
"That can wait until tomorrow. Later today."
"I'll call you later."
"But we won't mention this."
"Good point."
We could only give Ziti and Zasu a few seconds to say their goodbyes, then we were out the door and Ben was asking Ziti if he was hungry, while latching and locking behind us. Say what you will about Ben - and I've said it all - when you can count on him, you can really count on him.
Ben has a flexible sense of reality, so if Ziti did amazing boneless roll-ups around Ben, there would be no serious repercussions. However, I didn't want to try to explain that ability to anybody else, and especially not to Detective Henson. So, as we headed for Edith's, our second hiding place, I sat in the cab with Zasu and laid it out for her. She would stay with Neutrals who knew nothing of the Frames or other beings. They would need to think she was a human, and humans cannot bend much; nor do they change size or shape suddenly. Because Zasu has no experience with humans, it would be understandable to make a mistake. To avoid mistakes, if she hadn't already seen the Neutrals do something, she shouldn't do it herself.
She got it, but didn't, until Anwyl spoke up from the back. "Move as you did before your first molting."
Relief. "Oh! Now I understand."
The sun was up by the time we got to Edit
h's; fortunately, Henson was heading out for a jog as we pulled up, eliminating several potential complications and delays in getting Zasu safely deposited inside.
When I opened the truck door, Henson's stride froze in a defensive martial arts crouch.
"Patti, I need a favor." Recognizing me, she straightened, stepped closer to meet me on the walkway. "I've got a witness on another case who needs to stay hidden for a day. Inside, away from windows."
"Does your witness put Edith in danger?"
"If they find my witness here, probably. But they won't know to look for her here. I remember you said you were taking off this week to hang with Edith and get her ready for her hearing, so I hoped you could look out for my girl also."
"'They' plural? How many?"
"Three. Maybe more."
She went over to lean in the driver's window, look at Zasu, and say to Hernandez, "Next time you gotta text them when you're gone overnight, they slept like shit."
"No clue it was gonna be an overnighter." It was the first time I'd heard Hernandez sound defensive.
"Need to get better clues, dad."
"With you on that one."
They had an easy familiarity that gave me funny twinges.
Henson looked at Zasu for another second and then looked back to me. "Okay."
She went in first, to let the girls know what was happening and pass on my warning that they must not ask Zasu questions about her past because such questions would upset her. I knew this crew could relate to that. Hernandez brought Zasu inside so he could see his daughters. I joined Anwyl as he evaluated the perimeter. There were windows and doors on every side of the cottage and it felt much more isolated and exposed than Ben's apartment, which was a center unit in an urban complex with no yard.
Detective Henson and Hernandez returned to the front porch as Anwyl and I completed our circuit.
"We should take off," I told her. "You left me messages. When I return your phone call later this morning, say nothing of this."
"I understand," she replied sourly. She was getting her first good look at Anwyl and she didn't like what she saw. In fact, I'd call her reaction downright mistrustful. I squinted at him, trying but failing to see him through her eyes.
As soon as Henson was back inside, Anwyl clapped a hand on each of our shoulders. "We will meet next at Nica's abode, this time on the morrow." Before we could reply, he left us, sprinting down the street and murmuring his way out of Frame.
Hernandez and I didn't talk much on the way back to the Henrietta, except about whether it was better for us to stick together or split up, should the Cysts be on their way. We decided we should proceed as close to normal as we could manage, so Hernandez went home and I went upstairs.
By this point, I needed reminders that the world is full of order and beauty, so I played Bach while I completed the minimum possible bed preps. At last, my dreams came true and it was just me and my futon with the covers over my head. With temperature already too high to keep the covers on. With every hall noise suggesting an Entourage. With a shoulder pain that had mercifully dialed back to a mild ache, except for sporadic sharp pains that were as soothing as a pan dropped on tile. I groped the remote, upped the volume from loud to radioactive, and let Bach handle my woes.
25. I Thought Of The Dangers Facing Miles
"You've never turned your phone off for a guy?"
"That would account for one hour. Why didn't you answer your phone during the other 26?"
I slouched in the client chair, in noteworthy contrast to my attorney's posture, which was as yielding as a stop sign. "We got to know each other really well," I shrugged, pretending I was sore for happy reasons.
"I hope he was worth revocation of your freedom." Kathleen Kimball was as playful as an audit.
"He might be, if it comes to that. But I don't think it will. I bet you can convince them to give me another chance."
Kimball just kept staring at me. She was impervious to flattery and I did not please her. Can an attorney fire a client?
"I have arranged another chance for you, but there is a new cost for your freedom." She swiveled her leather and chrome chair, to grab a post-it pad from the leather and chrome post-it pad holder.
"Can I afford the price?"
"You must wear an ankle bracelet with a GPS receiver."
"What? Ridiculous!" I feigned outrage because she expected it. But at most I was annoyed. Once I went out of Frame again, I was screwed anyway. This bought me some time out of jail to keep working the case.
I could tell she had something else to say, so I nudged it out of her. "Are we done for now? I don't want to take any more of your day. Or mine. I've got clients depending on me, too."
"My firm's staff should be able to help if your other cases require investigation outside Los Angeles County. You've never been in jail and we want to keep it that way."
"Thanks, I appreciate all that."
"Nica, the effort to defend a client is rarely successful if she does not confide in her counsel."
"Hand to heart, he was that hot and I lost track of time."
"Alright," she sighed, which let me know it wasn't.
"What have you found out about the case against me? What have they got?"
"Thus far, I have ascertained little, but it has only been a day."
"So a day is a long time for me to have a playmate but a short time for you to do your job."
"Time is every bit as relative as Einstein warned us. If you are unhappy with my performance, we can notify the court that you wish to change counsel." By the time I got the Einstein line, we were long past it. Clever lines, clichés, concerned advice, she delivered all with the same chilly precision.
"Sorry, without sleep I'm not a nice person. I don't understand why we know so little about the case against me. Aren't the cops required to share their evidence with my defense?"
"The prosecutor is, yes, but there are caveats and there can be delays. I don't want to speak precipitously, but so far they seem determined to stall."
"Why would that be? Maybe they have no case?"
"There could be many reasons. That is the least likely." She grabbed a business card, wrote on the back. “To get your ankle observer, report to this address at 1 p.m. Be on time."
"'Ankle observer'? Really?"
"I'll see you at 1 p.m., Nica. Until then, keep your phone functional."
It was turning into a sweaty summer. I already had to wear sleeves to cover the Cobra's injuries, because they felt worse exposed to air. Now I would have to wear long pants to hide the stupid ankle device. All I could do was hope that Anya could come back ASAP and clear me of all charges related to her disappearance.
As I walked back from the train station to the Henrietta, I caught myself finding reasons to shift direction so that I could check who was behind me. Stupid; I knew that. I wasn't going to avoid or improve my next encounter with the Cysts by knowing when they were closing in.
I needed distraction. I unpocketed my phone.
"Henson."
"S.T.A.T.Ic. Returning your calls of yesterday."
"Hey. Good. Just wanted to let you know I dealt with your eviction notice."
"That was fast. How'd you manage it?"
"When I talked to the business manager at the Henrietta, I implied that you might be pretending to live there, because you are deep undercover, working an important case for me. He was excited to be trusted with a police secret and agreed to bend the rules, provided we tell him the details of the case as soon as that won't jeopardize the investigation."
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"Patti, will you marry me?"
"Sorry, I never get married during a case. Can't get anyone to dish what they've got on you, though. They are wearing double rubbers on your case and they don't have a version for the media, which means they aren't expecting publicity. You heard anything new?"
I told her about the missed check-in phone calls and the ankle observer.
"I'm surprised your ass isn't in jail. You must have a great lawyer."
"Ho-kay, let's call that the bright side and move on. By the way, how is Edith doing? When is her hearing?" I hoped she realized I was asking about Ziti, too.
"Day after tomorrow. She is doing better than I expected. She has friends staying with her and they are all having a lot of fun. Thanks for suggesting the Wii. Every game ends with them in a heap on the floor, laughing."
"Hearing that makes my day."
"Got to fly. Keep your phone turned on!"
"There's a lot of that advice going around. Thanks for everything, Patti."
Isn't it refreshing when civilians appreciate the police force? An unexpected bonus of Patti's undercover story to the Henrietta's business manager is that he couldn't have been happier to let me see all the records related to the building's renovations.
I can play on a good riff when I hear one, so I let the business manager know that Hernandez - a decorated war veteran, were you aware? I, too, only found out recently, he is so modest - was also part of the police investigation. It would support Detective Henson and me if Hernandez could change his hours sometimes, such as this afternoon.
Which is how Hernandez and I came to be sitting in his truck across the street from a construction site in Hancock Park, an enclave of discreet old money in the Hollywood flatlands. Hancock Park primarily consists of Spanish mansions - but on the small side, with yards, not grounds, which gives the feel of a neighborhood with homes, not estates. Inside every house is a success story. Powerful people live here - household names, politicos, trend dictators - dotted among block after block of garden-variety rich folks. There is so much money in Los Angeles that here small mansion is not an oxymoron, but rather an expression of wealth gradations.
"Thanks for getting me my new flexible shift," Hernandez said.
"Thanks for continuing to work 'the adventures', as you call them. This would be much less fun without you."
"We can both thank my girls. They saw that this matters to me and offered to do overnights with friends whenever I'm gone." He released the steering wheel like he'd just noticed he wasn't driving. "This work takes skills I like to use. I'm a good custodian but I'm not a custodian."
