Catch Me (Detective D.D. Warren, #6)(50)

“Oh,” I said.

“Messy way to go,” Tom said, rocking back on his heels. “Christ, never seen anything like it. Plunging five stories to land in a bed of metal stakes.”

At the last moment, he must have seen the look on my face. He caught himself, said hastily, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to…Occupational hazard. Cops forget sometimes that other people don’t spend their time staring at corpses.”

“It’s okay,” I said numbly. “I hear enough stuff.”

“Not the same. Hearing is easier than seeing.”

“Is it? Or does it just leave more to the imagination? Especially when I never get to learn the end of the story. Yelling, screaming, crisis, crisis, and now on to the next caller. Oh well.”

Officer Mackereth nodded slowly, as if considering the life of a dispatch operator for the first time. “Clean anything?” he asked abruptly.

I had to think about it. “Not yet.”

“Hit anyone?”

“Not yet.”

“Slow day for Charlene Grant?”

“Charlene Rosalind Carter Grant,” I corrected automatically.

“Not what your driver’s license says.”

My chin came up, I regarded him levelly. “The form didn’t allow for two middle names, so I opted not to include either one.”

“Why the two middle names, anyway?”

“Don’t know.”

“Family names?”

“Maybe.”

“You never asked your parents?”

“Don’t know where they are to ask the question,” I said stiffly.

That seemed to draw him up short. He nodded again, but continued to study me. We were dancing. Around and around. Except I couldn’t figure out: Were we partners on a dance floor, or opponents in a boxing ring?

“Tried Googling you,” he said now.

“What’d you find?”

“There are a lot of Charlene Grants in the world.”

“Maybe that’s why I have two middle names. To distinguish.”

“You don’t have two middle names.”

“Yes I do.”

“Not according to your birth certificate.”

“You looked up my birth certificate?”

“Well, when Googling doesn’t work, what else is a guy gonna do?”

I didn’t know what to say anymore. I blinked at him. Tulip whined softly, sitting between us.

“What do you want?” I asked now. The backs of my legs were still pressed against the desk. Abruptly, that bothered me. I forced myself to take a step forward. Stop retreating. Own the room. Seize control of the situation.

“E-mail addy,” Officer Mackereth said.

“Don’t have one.”

“Facebook page? Twitter account? MySpace?”

“Don’t own a computer.”

“Smartphone?”

“Don’t own a computer, a smartphone, an iPad, an iPod, an e-reader, or even a DVD player.”

“Off the grid,” Officer Mackereth observed.

“Frugal. If I want to go online, I visit the library. I can always check out a good book while I’m there.”

“What are you doing on the twenty-first?” he asked abruptly.

“What?”

“The twenty-first, Saturday morning. What are you doing?”

“Why?” My voice came out too high-pitched. At my sides, my hands were clenched. I don’t know if he noticed, but Tulip slunk over to me, pressing against my legs.

“You refused coffee. Turned down dinner. That leaves brunch.”

“Brunch?”

“Saturday, the twenty-first. One P.M. Café Fleuri at the Langham Hotel. All you can eat chocolate buffet. Best offer I got. What do you say?”

I…I didn’t know what to say. Then I didn’t have to. Because next to me, the monitor lit up, my headset started to chime, and I was literally saved by the bell.

I grabbed my headset, turned toward the ANI ALI screen.

“Can’t run from me forever,” Tom murmured behind me.

I whipped around abruptly, but he was already gone, flipping off the light switch and returning me to the gloom.





Chapter 16


FIVE THIRTY A.M. Jesse snuck out of bed. He used his best quiet feet, padding down the heavily shadowed hallway toward the kitchen table. The door to his mother’s bedroom was still closed. He paused, just in case, listening intently. No sounds from the other side. His mother slept. Good.

Jesse continued on to his target: the ancient laptop. It beckoned from the kitchen table. Battered case folded shut and topped by a waiting Home Run/Zombie Bear.

Jesse’s mother liked rules. One of them was no TV or computer time on school mornings. Monday through Friday they both got up at 6:30 A.M. They ate breakfast together, then Jesse’s mom packed his lunch while he got dressed, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair. By 7:20, he was thundering down the apartment stairs to the curb below, where he caught the 7:30 bus.

That was the drill. Jesse went to school, his mom went to work.

Monday through Friday, Jesse followed the schedule, played by the rules. It made his mom happy, and Jesse liked it when his mom was happy. She smiled more, ruffled his hair, bought him treats she didn’t really approve of, such as Twinkies. It was just the two of them, Jenny and Jesse against the world, she would tell him. They would snuggle together on the sofa each night, where she would read him Goosebumps novels and he would rest his head against her chest like he was still a little kid and it was all right, because it was just the two of them, Jesse and Jennifer against the world.