Jayne grabbed her arm. ‘I’ve just remembered! I saw that car pull in behind you. He had been behind me!’
‘From where? How far back did you notice him?’ Steelie looked at her intently.
‘Um, let me think. He was there when we turned on to Los Feliz.’
‘By Griffith Park?’
‘Yeah. I definitely remember him being there after we crossed the river, because I was looking behind me for anyone merging off the Five.’
‘You’re going forwards, Jayne. Did you see him before we turned on to Los Feliz?’
Jayne thought. ‘No.’ She exhaled. ‘I don’t remember anything from before then.’
Steelie walked to the telephone hanging on the wall in the kitchen. ‘I’m going to call Bud Reese. I’ll bet his wife hasn’t let him retire yet.’
‘But doesn’t he work out of Downtown?’
‘He’ll know who to call over here.’
Jayne listened as Steelie greeted Reese, one of the LAPD officers she had had a lot of interaction with while working at Legal Aid. She described what had happened to her that evening and then described the wire in the plant pots. Then she listened while making notes on a pad. She laughed once and said, ‘Give me a little credit, Bud.’ Eventually, she thanked him and hung up.
Steelie threw the pencil down on the pad. ‘OK, so he says I have grounds to make a complaint because the guy probably was a cop – a bad one. He gave me the number to call. He doesn’t think it was a carjacking, though they just picked up two guys for impersonating cops while shaking down undocumented immigrants who keep stalls in the Garment District. So it’s not unheard of. But the wire in your pots is another story. He asked if we’d ruled out a self-watering system.’
‘He thinks this is funny?’
‘No, he thinks he’s funny. The wire he takes seriously. He said wires going toward thresholds “scream” tapping to him.’
‘Tapping? Like bugging?’
‘Like that. He didn’t want to touch it with a ten-foot pole. Said it was very unlikely whatever’s going on will end up in LAPD’s jurisdiction so he recommended we go direct to the FBI.’
Jayne scrunched her hair. ‘God, Steelie. I really, really don’t want to call Scott.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because there’s no way to tell him what happened without him finding out that I . . . that I overreacted to some noise on my porch.’
‘It wasn’t an overreaction for someone with PTSD.’
‘Argh! How many times do I have to tell you? I do not have PTSD!’
Steelie compressed her lips. ‘Yeah, I got that memo. So, what you’re actually telling me is that Scott doesn’t know that you have symptoms of some thing that isn’t Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder but, ya know, looks just like it?’
Jayne glared at her but then sighed and shook her head in the negative.
Steelie crossed her arms. ‘Here I always thought you kept things going long-distance with Scott because you were holding out for when you two lived in the same city. Now I see you’ve just been hiding behind the telephone.’
Jayne only shrugged.
‘God, Jayne, you have no reason to hide anything. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of! How many times do I have to tell you?’
Jayne’s voice was small. ‘I just know he’ll see me as damaged goods and that’ll be the end of it.’
Steelie crossed the room to put a hand on Jayne’s shoulder. ‘The problem isn’t how he sees you, it’s how you see yourself. Plus, he probably knows about trauma. He was in Kosovo when the bombs were still dropping.’
‘Exactly. And he’s never mentioned repercussions.’
Steelie shrugged. ‘That just makes him lucky, not superhuman.’ She let go of Jayne and looked at her watch. ‘I’m going to call him and Eric first thing tomorrow. In the meantime, you’re staying here. Get up so I can make the sofa bed.’
Jayne went to the kitchen. ‘I wasn’t planning on leaving you here to get attacked by the rogue cop-carjacker who probably has your address.’
‘He never even looked at my license!’
Jayne opened the fridge and leaned down to examine its shelves. ‘You don’t know what he looked at. You got anything to eat in here? What is all this stuff? Looks like pressed cardboard.’
Steelie came in from the hall with two pillows and some sheets in her arms. ‘That’s Tofurkey. Trader Joe’s special.’
‘Why did you give up meat only to eat false meat?’
‘You want me to short-sheet your sofa bed? No? Then I suggest you shut up and be glad when I serve it up for breakfast tomorrow.’
Jayne straightened up and saw that Steelie’s eyes were troubled despite her light tone. She closed the door of the fridge and leaned on it, overwhelmed with the desire to lie down and go to sleep.
DAY FOUR
Friday
ELEVEN
Eric drove fast into the parking lot beneath the FBI building on Wilshire. He forced himself to slow down once in the dark, cramped space but he undid his seatbelt even before he’d turned off the ignition. Taking his briefcase from the back seat, he locked the car and headed for the elevator, which seemed to be running slower than usual this morning. Once inside the elevator, he hit 4. Nothing happened. He hit the ‘Door Close’ button several times in quick succession. The doors crawled shut.
When they opened again, Eric turned sideways to get out shoulder first before the doors had finished their slow retraction. He unlocked the door to the hall that led to his office. Lance, the office administrator, wasn’t in yet and neither was Scott. Eric unlocked their office and his eyes immediately went to the printer. Nothing. He sat down at the NCIC computer just in case something had come in from an Arizona police department or the California Highway Patrol responding to the BOLO on the gold van. Nothing.
‘Damn.’
His cell phone rang. When he answered, he could hear the road noise in the background and greeted his partner. ‘Yeah, Scott.’
‘Anything?’
‘No.’
‘OK, I think I have something. We know the perp’s got body parts frozen in the back of the van, right? If he drove out to Arizona at this time of year, he might’ve done it at night because of the daytime heat. Now, unless he had a generator, he would have needed an electrical hook-up for the freezer if he stopped along the way. Following me?’
Eric was pulling a notepad toward him. ‘Oh yeah.’
‘We should check out campgrounds with hook-ups between here and Arizona, see if they had a visit from this guy during the week.’
‘Going along I-Ten?’
‘Let’s start with that. It would make a long drive even longer if he was using blue highways and they’re less likely to have places for hook-up. So, you on top of this?’
‘Yes. What’s your ETA?’
‘Twenty minutes.’
They signed off and Eric started looking up campgrounds along Interstate 10. The phone on his desk rang and he glanced at the caller identification. It was a Los Angeles area code but he didn’t recognize the number. He picked up and identified himself.
‘Hey, Eric, it’s Steelie Lander.’
Eric relaxed and his eyes went back to the computer screen. ‘Hey, Steelie. Where are you calling from?’
‘My house. Why, you can you see the number?’
‘Yeah. How you doing?’
‘Not bad but I wondered, would you and Scott have some time for us today? We’d like to run something by you.’
Eric was scrolling down the list of campgrounds on the screen.
Steelie added, ‘In your professional capacity.’
‘That shouldn’t be a problem. It might be late in the day. Can I ask what it’s about?’ He clicked on a web link.