Cole clapped his shoulder. “Sure you can. We’ve all waked up with answers to problems that were bothering us when we went to sleep. This is more of that.” But he could not leave Sara’s safety solely to Razor and his fellow officers. He caused the problem; he had to do what he could to resolve it. “Now…before I let you go on to another dream, will you do me one more favor? Look up phone listings for Joy Quon and Kenisha Hayes. I’ll give them a chance to dream about me and tell me if they have any thoughts on where Sara is.”
Razor blinked. “You want me to look them up in a dream phone book?”
“Please.” He stood and stepped back from the futon.
Razor peered dubiously at him, then sighed and threw off the covers. He pulled the phone book from under the end table and opened it on his knees. “How do you spell Joy’s last name… K-W-A-N or Q-U-O-N?”
10
Cole left Razor falling back into bed and headed across town again, reciting addresses in his head. Luckily he had a good memory. He had started to reach for his notebook before remembering he had none. The addresses were all for K. Hayes. The Quon listings did not included a Joy Quon. Being single, she might still live at home. Now he just had to hope Kenisha was really Hayes’s first name. With luck, she would also be at the closest address, in the Western Addition. The address lay outside the familiar Northern District streets, but, in reviewing a mental map, he estimated it was no more than six or eight blocks from the Northern Station. If a ziptrip would take him-
The street blurred, solidified…and Cole blinked in astonishment. He stood in the middle of the intersection outside the station. Damn it, how did this work! He had to concentrate like hell to reach Razor’s place, but zipped here in mid-
His train of thought derailed as a car barreled out the front of his body. He stared after it, startled. That was amazing. The rapid staccato of jolts from the engine felt…wonderful. A hundred times better than Danny the Prick’s body heat. Invigorating. Something he wanted to try again. As he jogged for the Hayes address, he stayed in the street and let himself be run through by other vehicles, savoring the energy jolt of each pass. He almost regretted arriving at the Hayes address. Before going in, maybe he would let a few more cars run through him.
That thought brought him up short. Cole hurriedly moved to the sidewalk. He had enough problems without becoming addicted to internal combustion.
The seedy Victorian in front of him had been divided into flats, with the mailboxes indicating that K. G. Hayes lived on the second floor. But a tricycle and some toy trucks on the floor of the apartment’s livingroom made Cole doubt the Hayes he wanted lived here. One look at the very pregnant female half of the couple he found asleep in one bedroom confirmed that.
Cole returned to the street. One K. Hayes down, two to go. Maybe she was the one in Haight-Ashbury. Did he know a location near the address well enough to try ziptripping there? Nothing closer than he was right now, he decided…and broke into a jog.
The Haight address brought him to another divided Victorian, this time partitioned into studio apartments. K. T. Hays occupied the rear of the ground floor. Opening his eyes after passing through the door, Cole found a woman asleep on the sofa bed. She lay on her stomach, face hidden in the crook of her arm, but photographs on the top shelf of an entertainment center told him he had the right Hayes. One showed Kenisha Hayes and Sara skiing, while in another they lounged on a sunny beach with a fit-looking man in his fifties.
Cole sat on the side of the bed and ran his hand along the exposed arm. “Miss Hayes.”
Without waking, she shivered and pulled the arm under her quilt.
A shoulder remained exposed. He rubbed it. “Kenisha…Ke-neee-sha, baby.”
Squirming farther under the quilt, she mumbled, “What.”
Still not awake, he judged. Fine, as long as she answered coherently. “I need to ask you about Sara.”
“Sara?” Hayes’s breathing paused. Her eyes cracked open. Her squint abruptly turned wide-eyed. “Inspector Dunavan?”
“Not in the flesh.” He kept his voice low and soothing. “The chain and deadbolts on your door are still secure. I’m just a dream.” He walked up to the ceiling, then back down and sat on a virtual chair beside the bed, propping one ankle on his other knee. “See?”
Her eyes drifted closed. “What about Sara?”
“Do you know where she is?”
Hayes grunted. “In the dream I was just having, we were cruising down to Baja. The sea was calm; the sun was warm. In real life, the last I heard she was planning to spend the weekend in the sack with you.” Her eyes opened again. She frowned. “I wonder why I’m dreaming about you being here?”
“Maybe you’re unconsciously worried about the questions she was asking around the office. Maybe Mrs. Gao was watching her in some threatening way?” He leaned back with his hands behind his head and propped his feet up on the edge of the bed. “If you’re worried, how better to deal with that than calling up a minion of the law.”
“Why would I be worried?” She scooted semi-upright against the back of the sofa. “Sara was just asking who used to have the books for certain stores, and all Gao said was if Sara worked on her accounts instead of gossiping, she’d finish up in the regular business hours.”
Cole returned his feet to the floor and leaned toward her, elbows propped on his knees. “Did you have any of the stores she was asking about?”
She nodded. “A Different Country.”
It had been burglarized three years ago. “How was it doing financially before the account was reassigned?”
“I don’t remember.”
After three years, possibly not. “Do you know where Sara might go if she wanted to hide?
Hayes’s eyes widened. “Hide? Why would she need to hide?”
“She didn’t come asking you for help?”
“No. If she’s in trouble, maybe she went home. That’s what I’d do. Her parents are in Bloomington, Indiana.”
A logical choice that needed checking out…though if the threat to Sara came from Gao, the personnel files would tell anyone looking for Sara where to go. “How about the man you were supposed to cruise with this weekend?”
Hayes shook her head. “She just met him last week and I expect he’s off on his yacht right now.”
“What about other male friends?”
She shook her head again. “Most are only weekend flings…like you. I don’t know any names. When she’s telling Joy and me the juicy details, she just uses first names or nicknames. The few guys she sees semi-regularly, she doesn’t talk about at all.”
“You must know the dude in the bathing suit.” Cole pointed at the photographs on the entertainment center. “Or was he just a fling, too?”
Her gaze followed the direction of his finger. “Jerry? I forgot about him. He’s gay. He can’t bring himself to come out, though, so he calls Sara when he needs a female on his arm. But he’ll take her places just for fun, too, because they like each other. A few times he’s let her bring me along. He has a great flat in London and house in Belize that’s to die for.”
Belize. A sweet place to lie low. He must have a place here in town, too. It was definitely worth checking out. “And Jerry’s full name and address are…what.”
“Gerald Lockhart. I’m not sure of the address, but it’s in Seacliff.”
Donald Flaxx’s neighborhood. It would be interesting if Sara turned out to be hiding next almost next door. “Do you have Miss Quon’s address?”
“Joy?” Hayes shook her head. “She keeps her family life separate from the office and us. We’ve never been to her house.”
Razor could locate the address and talk to Quon. Cole stood. “Thank you for your time.” He could not resist adding: “I now return you to your regularly scheduled dream.” Then he headed for the door. Rear vision spotted Hayes shaking her head and closing her eyes even before he passed into the hall.