Shutter(41)

“I’ve never done anything that would jeopardize my cases. Never. Angie, you know this.” I turned to her, but she was just as angry as Samuels.

In the corner of my eye, I could see that Erma had followed me in. She stood against the wall, listening.

“Right now, all of this is unknown outside of this office. I want to keep it that way.” Samuels pointed at the paperwork. “You need to sign this. It guarantees that you will continue to be evaluated by Dr. Cassler once a month until your suspension is over.”

The paper was freshly printed and already signed by Samuels. “What about the cases I’m working on? Judge Winters and Erma Singleton on the overpass?”

“Miss Singleton’s case was ruled a suicide,” Angie said.

“A suicide? Already there’s a ruling on that case?”

From the corner of the office, a gravelly scream came from Erma’s outstretched mouth, so loud that I winced, trying my best to keep my eyes on Angie.

“We will need all of your storage devices, photos, diagrams,” she said. “Anything related to the cases you’re working on.”

“A suicide?” Erma continued screaming. “Suicide!”

I handed Angie my files, my stomach churning.

“This is all for the best, Rita.” Angie placed her hand on my shoulder. “Take this time to rest.”

“There’ll be no rest for you, Rita!” Erma unleashed another scream. “I didn’t kill myself!”

FIVE YEARS OF work was slipping away from me, and there was nothing I could do about it. Maybe I could find a better job. Something nine to five—taking pictures of school kids, or birds, or anything.

Erma Singleton was turning into the biggest wrecking ball I’d ever encountered. She sat with me in silence, riding in the backseat of my car. Her rage had drained us both.

Once I got home, all I could do was lie on the couch and close my eyes. I didn’t care who was in there with me. I just needed to rest.

I should’ve known that wouldn’t last long. The knock at the door was not going to go away, no matter how hard I shut my eyes.

“Let us in, Rita!” It was Shanice.

“Come on, sister! Open the door.” And Philip.

My only two friends. Philip lived in my building, always smelled of expensive cologne, dressed impeccably, and was a great person to talk to. He also had no interest in girls. It was a shame. Shanice was my sister. After years of separation because of our junior high school jailhouse experience, we had managed to find each other again. The two of them had become quick friends and bar buddies.

“I’m not here. Go away,” I yelled.

I tugged my blankets over my head but could hear my locks opening anyway. Shanice knew where my extra key was. She crashed with me all the time when she was between places. Just like any other Native relative, she was known to show up whenever the hell she felt like it, stay a few days, then leave without notice.

I threw my balled-up sock at Philip’s head as he yanked off my blanket. Shanice was already looking through the photos on my table, mixing up the stacks and piles, grimacing at a few. “Where are those pictures that you took of me last week? I called you, like, three times and you never answered.”

Shanice was taller than Philip and I, especially in her fourinch heels. She was now a part-time actress, catching odd roles in small films and plays that rolled through town. She had pure, impeccable olive skin, well-shaped eyebrows, and supremely sculptured hair, which made her a simple, beautiful everygirl.

I pulled a red folder from the drawer, then threw it on the table. “Red, for the devil!”

Shanice and Philip were on it within seconds, like ravenous animals.

“Look at you, Shanice!” Philip gushed.

I lay back down and covered my head with a pillow.

“These are wonderful, Rita. Thank you,” Shanice said.

Philip tore the pillow off my head. “These photographs are perfect, Rita. Have you ever thought about being a photographer?”

“You think?” My head pounded, but I smiled anyway.

“Let’s go celebrate!” Shanice squeezed me, feeling my ribcage. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Shanice, I’m fine.” I squirmed.

Philip was already looking in the refrigerator. “Mustard and beer.” He shook his head.

“Please, you two. I just got home from getting suspended from work.”

“What?!” Shanice shrieked, not making my headache any better.

“Yes. I’ve been suspended for three months, and I have to go see a shrink if I want my job back.”

“Holy shit! What did you do?”

“Got worked too hard. That’s what. I had a little episode on a scene and now I’m crazy.”

“Now what?” Shanice said. “Are you just going to stay here for three months and sleep?”

Before I knew it, they were dragging me into my room, forcing off my crinkled work khakis and dusty black shirt. Shanice pushed me into the shower, then they dressed me in a few clothes I didn’t know I owned and rushed me out the door. After going a few floors down, I glanced back up and saw Mrs. Santillanes watching me from the ledge of the top floor.

We walked up to the new hipster bar at the corner of Second and Gold and sat just inside the front windows. The city in the dark was sometimes more appetizing than it was during the harsh desert light of day. In the dark, the city was cavernous and strange and full of the souls of my ancestors. I felt them every day, but especially at night. They didn’t talk to me. It wasn’t that way with them. I just knew they were there.