The Last Flight(67)
She grabbed her coat, tucking the package of pills in an inner pocket—the envelope for Jeremy in another one—and her voice recorder into her purse for another night of what would probably be useless chitchat, and slipped out the door, trying to ignore Liz’s empty windows, the sound of her footsteps on the porch louder, echoing that emptiness back to her.
She walked the few short blocks to campus, cutting across the wide lawn that led down toward the library, and followed a dark and winding path that let out by Sather Gate. A stream of students and fans headed toward Haas Pavilion, and she pushed through the crowd, entering the arena and going straight to her seat.
She gave a tight smile to the people who sat around her, familiar faces now that she was attending all the home games. But she didn’t talk to anyone. Instead she stared down at the court where the team was warming up and let the sounds of the arena fold over her as she realized how far off course she’d drifted, like a boat pulled by the tide. She was a world away from where she started. Lost at sea, with no hope of navigating back to familiar land.
*
Dex didn’t show up until the middle of the first half. “Sorry I’m late,” he said as he slid into his seat. “Did I miss anything good?”
Eva ignored his joke and looked down toward the student section, standing room only, where they moved and jumped as one, jeering the opposing team. “I never went to a single basketball game as an undergrad,” she said. “All I did was study and go to class. Except for at the end. With Wade.”
Dex nodded but didn’t say anything.
“I always thought I’d stay in Berkeley. Maybe to teach, or to work in one of the labs. This was the only place that felt like home to me.” Below them, a player had grabbed a rebound and executed a fast break toward the basket at the other end, and the crowd around them went wild. But Eva continued. “I’m living an upside down and backward version of the life I wanted. I’m here in Berkeley. I have money and a home. I have everything I thought I wanted, and yet it’s all wrong.”
Dex shifted in his seat so that he could look at her. “You think anyone else has it any better?” Dex gestured toward an older man at the end of their row, whose sweatshirt looked frayed at the cuffs, whose eyes had bags under them. “Look at that guy. I’ll bet he’s some kind of an accountant in the city. Taking the BART at the crack of dawn, shoving himself into the smallest space on the train. Eating his breakfast at his desk. Kissing his boss’s ass and taking his two weeks in the summer, barely making enough to pay for his basketball season tickets. You want that life instead? What we have is better.”
She wanted to throttle him. Better? Hiding and scheming and constantly watching her back? How many people in the seats around them had the constant fear of either being arrested or being killed for their mistakes?
She was edgy, rattling around in a life that was slowly emptying. But the longer this took, the less certain she was Castro would be able to get her out. She wanted to have a backup plan, a way to disappear on her own if she had to.
As the noise level in the arena rose, Eva leaned closer to Dex and lowered her voice so her recorder wouldn’t pick it up. “I’ve got an undergrad client who wants to buy a fake ID,” she said, hoping Dex wouldn’t hear the waver in her voice. “She’s nineteen. Wants to get into San Francisco clubs. Do you know anyone who can make her one?”
If Dex thought she was lying, he showed no sign of it. He leaned his elbows on his knees and angled his face so he was looking at her. “I used to know someone in Oakland who did that. But it was years ago, back when you could slide one photo out and another one in.” He shook his head. “Now? Her best bet would be to find someone who looks like her willing to give her theirs. Pay them for their real driver’s license and let them report it stolen. It happens all the time.”
She looked toward the court, pretending to be interested in the game so that he couldn’t see the defeat in her eyes. “That’s what I told her,” she said. “But you know what college kids are like. Two years seems like an eternity at nineteen.”
A whistle sounded, signaling a time out, and loud music blared over the sound system.
Her voice grew louder again. “What ended up happening to that friend of yours, the one who referred Brittany?”
Dex stared at the cheerleaders dancing on the court below them and said, “He’s been dealt with. Wasn’t my call, but I can’t say I’m sorry about it.”
“Do you know for sure he was a part of the investigation?”
Dex shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Seems kind of dangerous,” she said, “to get rid of the guy who was Brittany’s contact. Won’t that draw the attention of the police again?”
Dex gave a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “They’ll never find him.”
Eva felt a hollowness directly beneath her ribs and waited for him to continue.
“Fish has a warehouse in Oakland. Some kind of import/export bullshit. There’s an incinerator in the basement.”
She swallowed hard, fighting to keep her gaze steady on his, and nodded, hoping her recorder was picking this up and not just the jumped-up music of Daft Punk. Below them, the cheerleaders twirled and spun, their hair flying out, arms and legs pumping faster and faster as the music accelerated.