L.A. Bytes (20 page)

Just another minimum wage chump. “Is there anything you do remember about him?”

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She considered the question. “When Adam fi rst started, I really did think he might amount to something. He came in with the right attitude and showed what I like to think is management material.”

David thought of what Professor Sanju had said about the qualifi cations Adam had brought with him. Was it a pattern with the guy? “What happened?”

“He grew... I don’t know, all I can say is he seemed angry.”

“Angry? What did he have to be angry about?”

“He never said. It was just something I sensed.”

“Did he ever mention his family?”

“I’m probably not the best person to talk to about this,” she said. “My contact with employees is limited to ensuring they do their job and the place runs effi ciently. I’m not someone they talk to beyond work.”

“Is there someone who might be able to help us?” David asked. “Anyone you might call Adam’s friend?”

The manager tapped her short fi ngernails on the table. Finally she said, “Not friends perhaps, but Tiffany might be able to answer your questions. They were hired around the same time and she went through orientation with Adam.”

She turned and swept away. Martinez crammed the last bite of hamburger in his mouth and washed it down with Coke.

Tiffany materialized beside their table. She didn’t look thrilled to be there.

“Barbara said you wanted to talk to me.”

“You were a friend of Adam’s?”

“That geek?” Tiffany sniffed with the sort of disdain only a teenager could muster. “You’re joking, right?”

“We’re cops,” Martinez said. “We don’t have a sense of humor.

Just how well did you know Adam?”

170 P.A. Brown

“We trained together when I fi rst started in this crap hole. He gave me a ride home a couple of times when my old man was too busy to come get me.”

She fl ung her head back in a calculated move that set her breasts bouncing under her green and tan uniform. David had the feeling she knew all too well the power she had over most men. Too bad for her it didn’t work on him.

“He ever try anything during those rides?”

“Adam?” She giggled and rolled her eyes. “You’re joking, right? He was a geek. A clueless nerd.”

Geek. Translate that as computer nut? David wondered if anyone had ever called Chris a geek. He had once claimed he was.

David seriously doubted that. “Did he talk about computers with you?” Maybe she was pissed Adam didn’t make a pass. Never underestimate a teenage girl’s ego. He’d felt the bite a couple of times when he’d ignored their come-ons in high school.

“He barely talked about anything. Like, I tried to talk to him once about this absolutely wild Jynx concert I went to and he like, brushed me off like he’d never even heard of Jynx. I mean, is that gay or what?”

David’s eyebrows rose. “Is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Gay?”

“God yes—I mean, Jynx’s is so there. They’re the best thing outta Seattle since Cobain, ya know?”

David’s ignorance left him feeling old. “So Adam never talked to you? Never mentioned his mother or talked about his father, is that right?”

She frowned. “He didn’t like her very much.”

“Who? His mother?”

“Called her a bitch. Said she’d betrayed him. Pretty harsh words for your mother, right? Hey, I mean my mother can be a hard-core bitch, but she’s still, ya know, my mother.”

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“Did he say how she’d betrayed him?”

“Like you think I asked?”

“Did he ever talk about getting back at her?”

She nodded sagely. “It’s about all he did talk about.” She did the head fl ip again. “Me, I’d rather talk about stuff that’s important.”

“Like Jynx?” David didn’t even bother keeping the sarcasm out of his voice.

“Yeah! Junck rock is so cool. And Spence is so hot.”

“Well, thank you, Tiffany. You’ve been very helpful.”

“I have?

“Sure. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.”

“Sure. Like, that’s cool.”

David gathered up the remains of his supper and brushed past her. Martinez followed. He and Martinez parted company in the parking lot. “We’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow,”

Martinez said. “We’re getting closer to him, Davey. I can feel it.”

Well, at least one of them could. All David wanted to do was get out to see Chris. His heart wasn’t in this investigation. He just hoped Martinez never realized that.

With one last wave, he turned the Chevy towards the hospital.

Thursday, 6:45 pm, USC County General, State Street, Los Angeles

“Well, you’re looking a lot better, young man.”

Chris tried to glare at the doctor who stood over him, looking too damned perky and upbeat. Regular fucking Pollyanna.

“I’m Dr. Finder,” she said. “Do you know where you are, Chris?”

“Sure,” he said. “The hospital. USC.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Hard not to know that.”

She reached for his wrist and counted out the beats of his pulse.

“So, doc, am I gonna live?”

“Haven’t you heard? No one gets out alive.”

“Oh great, my doctor’s a philosophy major.”

“Minor, actually. Head feel okay? Can you take a deep breath?”

Chris obliged, and winced as shards of pain shot through his chest.

“You got a couple of cracked ribs, so you’re going to be sore for a while.”

“No shit.”

She patted his shoulder. “But you’ll live. Maybe even for another six or seven decades.”

“Now there’s a cheery thought. All old and wrinkled. I always wanted to leave a beautiful corpse.”

“Why? You think the worms care?”

“Anyone ever tell you your bedside manner sucks?”

174 P.A. Brown

He wished this woman would go away and take her annoying manner with her. There was a tap on the door. Both Chris and the doctor turned.

It was David.

Chris felt the fi rst lifting of his heart since he had woken up.

Finder must have been watching his face because the smile she gave him was sly.

“Ah, Detective,” she said. “Come to check on your witness?”

“Don’t tell her anything,” Chris snapped.

Finder glanced at her watch. “What do you know, time for my rounds. I’ll see you later, Christopher. Detective.”

“What was that all about?” David asked once the door had closed behind her.

“Don’t ask.” Chris tried to sit up, but pain shot through him and he sank back with a groan.

David was instantly at his side. “What are you trying to do?

You can’t get up.”

Chris blinked away the tears in his eyes. “Hey, don’t I get a hug?”

Leaning down, David brushed his lips over Chris’s and lightly touched his shoulders.

“I’m not going to break, you know. I may have a few bruises, but I’m not glass.” His voice was whispery and Chris knew he wasn’t being very convincing. The truth was he felt like shit, but he didn’t want to see that mirrored in David’s eyes. “Where were you all day?”

“Work.”

“You’re back? Does that mean they dropped the investigation?”

“It’s gone.”

“Great.”

David studied his face and Chris did his best to look positive.

It was good that David had been cleared of those horrible L.A. BYTES
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charges, but Chris couldn’t get over his dislike of David’s job. He couldn’t help it; he hated what David did.

He plucked at the blankets folded over his stomach. The thin blue hospital gown felt scratchy against his skin.

“If you want I’ll bring your pajamas tomorrow. Is there anything else you’d like?”

“Besides outta here?” Chris muttered. “Really, I could rest so much better in Cozumel.” He sighed. “Okay, I guess I could use my razor.” He rubbed his blond stubbled cheek. “Shampoo, oh, and don’t forget a toothbrush and my fl oss... That’s assuming Hilda the Sadist there lets me do any of that.”

“You must be feeling better.” David grinned, settling into a chair close to the bed. “You’re getting bitchy.”

Chris sniffed. “Please, I haven’t even warmed up. Speaking of bitchy, I need to call Des. He’ll think I fell off the planet or something.”

David scooped Chris’s hand off the bed and tucked it between his. “Seriously, how do you feel?”

“Sore. Woozy. Honestly, I don’t know what they gave me, but I would not recommend it even to my wildest stoner friends.

Oh, don’t look so deadly serious; I don’t have any stoner friends anymore. That was all BD.”

“BD?”

“Before David. You reformed me, don’t you know? Honestly, if you want to bring me something, bring me something to read.

I’ve got some new journals at home, I can take advantage of this to catch up.”

Suddenly he groaned and rubbed his forehead. David leaned forward, his rough face wreathed in concern.

“Where’s my Blackberry? My email. My calendar. God, I had the next year mapped out in there.”

“I’ll look through your effects, but I don’t know if it was recovered or not. Don’t you keep copies of that stuff?”

176 P.A. Brown

Chris frowned. Again his memory showed gaping holes. “I do. I did. But I don’t remember if I backed it up before I left the house that day or not.”

“I’ll look for it. I’ll get the hospital staff to check too. But you need to forget work for now. Rest. Maybe Becky can cover for you, do you want me to call her?”

“Would you?”

“Sure.”

“Try not to give her too many details. She’s such a worry wart.”

“And I’m not?”

“But you’re cute when you worry. She just turns into my mother.” He tried to think of what was critical, then, “Can you ask her to look in on Terry at Ste. Anne’s? I wanted to run some more intrusion tests on the outer perimeter. Terry has the documentation. If she can look it over and tweak it if it needs it, I’d appreciate it.”

“Consider it done.”

Chris could feel sleep nudging at his consciousness. He blinked at David and found his vision blurring. He came back from cracking a huge yawn to fi nd David smiling at him.

“I think you’re trying to tell me something. I’ll be back as early as I can tomorrow.” David leaned down and this time his kiss meant business. Chris’s head spun. “Enough talk about work.

Rest. I love you.”

Chris wanted to reply but his whole head was swathed in cotton, even his tongue wouldn’t work. He sank into a soft, welcoming darkness, wondering where the hell his Blackberry was. His dreams were laced with fl ashes of explosive light and unrecognizable voices that were too distant to hear anything but the menace in them. Finally even they were gone.

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Thursday, 9:20 pm, Cove Avenue, Silver Lake, Los Angeles
David fed an impatient Sergeant and Sweeney and took Sergeant for a twenty minute run. Back home he grabbed a beer from the fridge and they all headed for the media room.

Propping his feet up on a footstool he skimmed through the phone’s memory for Des’s number, temporarily ignoring the blinking message light. He dialed a number and Trevor answered.

David kept his voice business-like.

Sweeney jumped into his lap and rubbed his tawny head under David’s chin.

“Let me talk to Des.”

“David?” Trevor seemed awkward. “Des is right here.”

David took a swig of beer. He set the bottle down on one of the agate coasters he had picked up in Palm Springs years ago—BC. Before Chris.

Des picked up the phone.

“David, what’s going on? I heard about the bombing. My God, are you okay? You can tell Chris he’s such a bitch for not getting back to me. I was so worried about you and no one would say anything—”

“I’m fi ne, Des,” David said. “But Chris is in the hospital—”

When Des settled down enough to listen, David gave him a quick rundown. As Chris had requested, he didn’t go into a lot of detail. He assured Des that Chris was going to be just fi ne.

“He better be,” Des huffed. “You tell him if he’s not, I’ll-I’ll take away his Versace frequent shopper card.”

Des sobbed into the phone.

David could handle anything but that. “He’s going to be fi ne, Des,” he pleaded. “You can go see him tomorrow if you want.”

Though how Des would handle the way Chris looked was anyone’s guess. It had to be better than thinking he was on death’s doorstep.

178 P.A. Brown

Trevor came back on.

“How bad is he?”

“He’s through the worst of it. If Des does go see him you might want to prepare him. Chris got some pretty nasty-looking cuts and bruises.” David plucked at the label of his beer bottle, peeling the edge loose. “He’s having some trouble remembering exactly what happened, so don’t let Des pester him for details.”

“Sure,” Trevor said. “He’ll be fi ne. Especially once he knows Chris really will be okay.”

“Yeah, well you take care of Des. Tell him not to worry.”

Trevor hung up and David immediately called Becky. She answered herself. Unlike Des, she took the news calmly enough.

She knew several of Chris’s clients and promised to call them the next day. She also promised to drop in to Ste. Anne’s and look things over.

“Tell Chris not to worry,” she said. “I’ll cover for him.”

“Thanks, Becky. We owe you.”

David replaced the phone and emptied his beer bottle. After the briefest of hesitations he put the empty bottle away and got the dog’s leash again. Sergeant bounced toward the front door.

They ran for forty minutes this time. Back home David got another beer. He fl ipped through a dozen TV channels before settling on a country music retrospective of Merle Haggard.

The dog settled in beside him. The cat took up her place on his lap.

§ § § §

David dropped Chris’s clothes and toiletries off before heading in to work. He found Martinez already looking glassy-eyed as he went through the reams of paper DMV kicked back.

“Any luck?” David asked, settling into his chair and fl ipping on his computer. He glanced around the detectives’ cubicles, hoping to see Bentzen, but the blond detective wasn’t in the room. Probably settled downtown for good.