time missing: 28 hours, 02 minutes

Joe Pike

Pike sat unmoving within the stiff branches and leathery leaves of a rubber tree across from Lucy Chenier's apartment. Small gaps between the leaves afforded him a clean view of the stairs leading up to her apartment, and a lesser view of the street and sidewalk. Pike carried a Colt Python. 357 Magnum in a clip holster on his right hip, a six-inch SOG fighting knife, a.25caliber Beretta palm gun strapped to his right ankle, and a leather sap. He rarely needed them. Lucy was safe.

When Cole dropped Pike off earlier that evening, Pike had approached Lucy's apartment on foot from three blocks away. The man who took Ben could have been watching Lucy's apartment, so Pike checked the nearby buildings, roofs, and cars. When he was satisfied that no one was watching, Pike circled the block to come up behind the bungalows across the street. He slipped into the dense trees and shrubs surrounding them, and became a shadow within other shadows. He wondered what was happening at Hollywood Station, but his job was to wait and watch, so that's what he did.

Lucy's white Lexus appeared an hour or so later. She parked at the curb, then hurried upstairs. Pike had not seen her since he left the hospital some months ago; she was smaller than he remembered, and now carried herself with a stiffness that indicated she was upset.

Richard's black limo rolled up ten minutes after Lucy got home and double-parked alongside her Lexus. Richard got out by himself and climbed the stairs. When Lucy opened the door she was framed by gold light. The two of them spoke for a moment, then Richard went in. The door closed.

The Marquis arrived from the opposite direction, Fontenot driving with DeNice along for the ride. They stopped in the street with their engine idling. Myers jumped out of the limo to speak with them. Pike tried to listen, but their voices were low. Myers was angry and slapped the top of the Marquis. " – this is bullshit! Get your shit together and find that kid!" Then he trotted for the stairs. DeNice got out of the Marquis and into the limo. Fontenot accelerated away, but swung into a driveway one block up, turned around, and parked in the dark between two trees. Even as Fontenot parked, Richard and Myers hurried down, got into the limo, and sped away. Pike waited for Fontenot to follow them, but Fontenot settled behind the wheel. Now two of them watched Lucy. Well, one and a half.

Pike was good at waiting, which was why he excelled in the Marines and other things. He could wait for days without moving and without being bored because he did not believe in time. Time was what filled your moments, so if your moments were empty, time had no meaning. Emptiness did not flow or pass; it simply was. Letting himself be empty was like putting himself in neutral: Pike was.

Cole's yellow Corvette pulled to the curb. Like always, it needed a wash. Pike kept his own red Jeep Cherokee spotless, as well as his condo, his weapons, his clothes, and his person. Pike found peace in order, and did not understand how Cole could drive a dirty car. Cleanliness was order, and order was control. Pike had spent most of his life trying to maintain control.

Elvis Cole

The jacaranda trees that lined Lucy's street were lit by lamps that were old and yellow with age. The air was colder than in Hollywood, and rich with the scent of jasmine. Pike was watching, but I could not see him and did not try. Fontenot was easy to make, hunched in a car up the block like Boris Badenov pretending to be Sam Spade. I guess Richard wanted someone watching out for Lucy, too.

I climbed the stairs and knocked twice at her door, soft. I could have used my key, but that seemed more confident than I felt.

"It's me."

The deadbolt turned with a quiet slap.

Lucy answered in a white terry robe. Her hair was damp and combed back. She always looked good that way, even with her face dosed and unsmiling.

She said, "They kept you a long time."

"We had a lot to talk about."

She stepped back to let me in, then closed and locked the door. She was holding her cordless phone. The television was running something about vegetarians with brittle bones. She turned it off, then went to the dining room table, all without looking at me, just as she hadn't looked at me when she left Gittamon's office.

I said, "I want to talk to you about this."

"I know. Would you like some coffee? It's not fresh, but I have hot water and Taster's Choice."

"No, I'm okay."

She put the phone on the table, but kept her hand on it. She looked at the phone.

"I've been sitting here with this phone. Ever since I got home I've been scared to put it down. They set up one of those trap things on my phone in case he calls again, but I don't know. They said I could make calls like normal, and not to worry about it. Ha. Like normal."

I guess staring at the phone was easier than looking at me. I covered her hand with mine.

"Luce, what he said, those things aren't true. Nothing like that happened, none of it."

"The man on the tape or Richard? You don't have to say this. I know you couldn't do anything like that."

"We didn't murder people. We weren't criminals."

"I know. I know that."

"What Richard said -"

"Shh."

Her eyes flashed hard, and the shh was a command.

"I don't want you to explain. I've never asked before, and you've never told me, so don't tell me now."

"Lucy -"

"Don't. I don't care."

"Luce -"

"I've heard you and Joe talk. I've seen what you keep in that cigar box. Those are your things to know, not mine, I understand that, like old lovers and the stupid things we do when we're kids -"

"I wasn't hiding anything."

"- I thought, he'll tell me if he needs to, but now it all seems so much more important than that -"

"I wasn't keeping secrets. Some things are better left behind, that's all, you move past and go on. That's what I've tried to do, and not just about the war."

She slipped her hand from under mine, and sat back.

"What Richard did tonight, that was unforgivable, having you investigated. I apologize. The way he dropped that folder on the table -"

"I got into some trouble when I was a kid. It wasn't horrendous. I wasn't hiding it from you."

She shook her head to quiet me and lifted the phone in both hands as if it was an object of study.

"I've been holding onto this goddamned phone so tight that I can't feel my hand, wondering whether I'll ever see my baby again, and I thought if only I could force myself into the mouthpiece through these little holes and come out on the other end of the line -"

She stiffened with a tension that made her seem brittle. I leaned toward her, wanting to touch her, but she drew back.

"- to get my baby; I saw myself doing it the way you see yourself in a dream, and when I squeezed out of the phone at the other end, Ben was in a nice warm bed, safe and sleeping, this beautiful peaceful ten-year-old face, so peaceful that I didn't want to wake him. I watched his beautiful face and tried to imagine what you looked like when you were his age -"

She looked up with a sadness that seemed painful.

"- but I couldn't. I've never seen a childhood picture of you. You never mention your family, or where you're from, or any of that except for the jokes you'll make. You know, I tease you about Joe, how he never talks, Mr. Stone face, but you don't say any more than him, not about the things that matter, and I find that so strange. I guess you moved on."