Having no choice but to wait for Kane to contact us again, Iffy has RJ drive us to the Alcove Café, a place she used to frequent when she lived in LA, and where, she tells us, we can hang out for several hours without anyone telling us to leave.
We sit out front at a table under the trees, but say very little. I’ve forced myself to set my phone on the table and not clutch it in my hand, but I can’t stop looking at it every few seconds.
At 11:40, RJ’s friend calls. He’s apparently gone to work a little early to see if he can find out anything for us. I try to glean what I can from RJ’s side of the conversation, but he’s mostly saying, “uh-huh” and “all right” and “okay.” When he hangs up, Iffy and I look at him expectantly.
“The number belongs to a pay-as-you-go phone,” RJ explains. “It’s not a Verizon phone but from a smaller niche phone company that specializes in disposable devices.”
I can’t hide my disappointment. “So he can’t track it down?”
“Hold on. Apparently there’s some kind of reciprocal information deal between a lot of these places. He snooped around a bit and found that the only time the phone’s been on and traceable was at ten when Kane called you.”
“Where was he?”
“Hollywood. My friend says it looks like he was walking around.”
“Where in Hollywood?”
“Near the Chinese Theatre.”
“So that’s all we know?” Iffy asks.
RJ grimaces. “Sorry.”
“We should go there,” I say, reaching for my phone.
“He’ll already be gone,” Iffy says calmly. “We’d just be wasting our time. We should wait here until he calls again.”
Though I agree with her on principle, I’m growing antsy just sitting here.
Sensing this, Iffy strokes the back of my neck. “Save your energy for when we’ll really need it.”
I hold on to my nervous tension for a few more moments before I let out a long breath. I give Iffy a thankful half smile and then say to RJ, “When you talk to your friend again, please thank him for trying.”
“When you give me the $500 you owe him, I will.”
Iffy squeezes my shoulder and then pushes her chair back. “I’m going to the restroom.”
As she stands, RJ does the same. “And I think I need a piece of chocolate cake,” he says. “You two want anything?”
Both Iffy and I decline, and then she and RJ head inside the café.
The first eighteen years of my life, I never once considered the possibility of time travel. The important things for me were school and chores and avoiding my father as much as I could. But in the past year and a half, traveling wherever and whenever I want has become such an ever-present part of my life that it’s hard for me to remember how to live without the ability. Not having access to my chaser feels like I’m missing a limb.
These are the selfish thoughts I have. And as guilty as they make me feel, they pale in comparison to my potential guilt over what Kane might do if he somehow gains control of the device.
I start to pick my phone up, but quickly force my hand away. “Come on,” I whisper. “Call me.”
RJ rejoins me a few minutes later, carrying a new cup of coffee and a piece of cake on a plate. He must live on sugar, I think. I didn’t even touch the doughnuts he’d brought to the motel, and know that Iffy had only one, but the bag was all but empty when we left. And now dessert.
I must have been staring at his plate, because he says, “Want a bite?” He holds a forkful of the pastry toward me.
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
With a shrug, he shoves it in his mouth and then proceeds to devour the rest of the slice.
As he’s putting his fork down, I look past him at the café, thinking Iffy should have been back long ago. “Was there a line for the bathroom?”
“Don’t know,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the building. “Want me to go check?”
I need to do something other than sit here, so I push myself up. “I’ll go.”
Grabbing my phone, I head inside. The bakery is on the right-hand side of the building, with a full bar — empty at this early hour — on the left. Another customer directs me to the restrooms, which are located in an interior seating area farther back.
There is no line in front of the woman’s restroom. I hesitate and then knock on the door.
“Iffy?”
“The men’s is the next one over,” a woman sitting at a table behind me says.
“Just looking for my friend.”
“You won’t find her there. Been empty for a couple minutes.”
I turn. “Are you sure?”
“You can check for yourself. Should be unlocked.”
I pull the door open. The room is designed for one occupant at a time, and is currently not in use.
I approach the woman I’ve been talking to. “The last person who left, was she a small woman, dark hair? Wearing a, um, pale green T-shirt?”
The woman thinks for a second and then shakes her head. “A blonde, I think. Maybe about forty years old.”
“What about before her?”
“I got here about the same time the restroom freed up.”
“Oh, well, thank you.”
I look around. The only other person in the room is a man at a table against the far wall, working on a laptop and wearing earbuds. I hurry over to him.
“Excuse me.”
It takes a moment before he looks up and removes one of the earbuds. “Yeah?”
I ask him about anyone he might have seen coming out of the women’s restroom.
“Wish I could help, but I’m kinda focused here, so… um, sorry.”
He quickly puts the bud back in his ear and returns his attention to his screen.
I look around and spot a door leading to an outdoor area along the side of the building. It’s the only other direction she could have gone. If she’d come out the front of the building, I would have seen her. Maybe she ran into a friend and stopped for a few minutes to catch up.
When I exit, though, I find that only half the tables are full, and Iffy is not sitting at any of them. From the lack of plates and glasses in front of the majority of people who are there, it’s obvious most have just sat down.
I quickly scan the area. To my left, the seating area feeds out into the front portion, where our table is. And to the right, the patio soon narrows to a pathway that leads to what looks like a driveway.
If she went left, then she’s probably already back at our table, so I go the other direction, and in my rush toward the back, I bump against one of the tables and nearly knock over a glass of water.
“Hey, buddy. Slow down,” a guy with a full dark beard says.
“Sorry,” I reply, but I’m already two tables away, and it is unlikely that he hears me.
Thankfully, the pathway is clear, and I get to the other end in only a couple seconds. I was right. A driveway. It curves between the café and another building to a small parking area.
“Iffy,” I call as I move into the lot.
All but one of the slots are filled. Two women are getting out of a car that’s just pulled in. When I call Iffy’s name again, they glance in my direction, then just as quickly dismiss me as someone they don’t know.
I go clear to the back of the area to make sure I check everywhere, but Iffy isn’t there.
I missed her in passing, that’s all, I tell myself. I’m sure she’s with RJ now, wondering where I am.
I head back to the café and weave through the side patio. The man whose table I hit glares at me, and I apologize again, making sure he can hear me this time.
When I reach the front area, I find RJ at our table, still drinking his coffee and still alone.