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"I'm sure I'll think of some."
Santos said, "We'll have another chance to brief you. Right now, we're going to put you back in with Bibia
"Won't she be suspicious if she's out and I'm not?"
"I'm sure you'll find a way to cover," Dolan said dryly. "In the meantime, make arrangements to co
"What if Raymond shows up before then?"
"We'll think of something else. Oh, and while we're on the subject…" Dolan jotted down a special telephone number where he could be reached at any hour. I tucked the slip of paper in my sock. He glanced at his watch and then got up as a signal to end the meeting.
I got to my feet. Santos and I shook hands. "What time is it?" I asked.
"Two minutes after four."
"I'm too old to be up at this hour," I said, and then glanced at Dolan. "Can you do me a favor? I left my black leather jacket in the restaurant and my VW's still parked in the Meat Locker side lot. I probably can't get over there until this afternoon. Could you ask about the jacket and warn the meter maid? I don't want to get towed or ticketed."
"Will do. You don't want to screw around with those meter gals," Dolan said. He flashed a smile and then held out his hand to me. "Thanks."
"I haven't done anything yet."
The female corrections officer took me back to the drunk tank and locked me in. I felt nearly sick with fatigue, my brain buzzing from the coffee, body dragging from the lack of sleep. I moved over to my mattress and sank down gratefully, curling up on my side with my face turned toward the others. Bibia
"The homicide detective had some questions about the shooting."
"Has Dawna been picked up?"
"She's in the hospital at the moment with superficial injuries. Tale's here on the men's side. They're talking about charging him with murder, but I don't see how they can. Manslaughter's more like it."
"Bastards."
"He'll survive."
"Yeah, I suppose." Bibia
I hesitated briefly, then held my nose and plunged right in. "By the way, while I was out there I put a call through to my bail bondsman, who's posting bail for both of us. He'll be over here at eight."
Her eyes flew open. "You're bailing me out, too? Why would you do that? I don't have no kind of money like that. You're talkin' five hundred bucks!"
"So you can owe me. Don't sweat it."
Her look was puzzled. "But why now? How come you didn't do that in the first place?"
"I just remembered I had money in a savings account. My car's in the shop. I was saving to get the tra
She hadn't bought my story yet. "I can't believe you'd do that."
The ski
Bibia
The air in the cell was permeated with the scent of sleeping bodies: damp socks, stale breath, unwashed hair. I had thought my cellmates might waken with my return, but no one else stirred. The light in the corridor shone dimly. The quiet became absolute. On the floor, I could still see the numerology grid Bibia
11
WHAT HAPPENED NEXT was the result of a bureaucratic error for which responsibility was never assigned. The paperwork came down at six and Bibia
The morning was cold and foggy, the ground still saturated from the rain the night before. The scruffy hills around the jail looked serene. Little birdies sang. The passing traffic out on the freeway seemed to ebb and surge, rhythmic white noise, very restful, like the ocean at high tide. I longed for a shower, for breakfast, for privacy. I'd have to conjure up an excuse to separate from Bibia
The first order of business, of course, was to find a ride home. I checked my plastic pouch, feeling like a mental patient just released from the institution. I had ten bucks in cash, which I decided to blow on a taxi. I'm too cheap for cabs as a rule, but I really felt I deserved this one. Bibia
Bibia
"Did they ask you about the shooting?" I asked.
"Not yet. Some homicide cop is supposed to come around to my place later today."
"What are you going to tell them?"
"Who cares about that? I gotta find a way to get outta here before Raymond shows up…"
I felt an anxiety of my own. What the hell was going on here? Where was Dolan? What was I supposed to do?
Suddenly, Bibia
I followed her gaze, realizing belatedly that her attention was riveted on a dark green Ford that was parked down the road, its rear end lowered until the pan nearly scraped the ground. Her fear was so palpable that the hair rose up on the back of my neck.
"Who's that?"
"It's Raymond. Oh, God." Her voice broke. Tears leapt to her eyes and she made a peculiar squeaking sound in her throat. I assessed the situation rapidly, without knowing quite what to do. Of all the bad luck. Apparently, Dawna had managed to put a call through to him.
He'd been leaning on the front fender, watching cars pass on the frontage road. When he caught sight of us, he began to amble in our direction.