The Night Crew

Anna said, 'Where? We didn't know. he's still in surgery.'

'He was supposed to call me this morning and he didn't and I thought. I don't know what I thought.' She was not quite babbling: 'I didn't hear from him and I went in and Jim said he'd been shot, I was getting a cup of orange juice and Jim came over and said Creek was shot.'

'You better sit down,' Harper said. He introduced himself and said, 'I saw you a couple of days ago, I was in talking to Jim.'

'Oh, yeah.' she said vaguely. She looked back toward the operating suite: 'What have you heard?'

'Not much: he's hurting. And he's been in there a while.'

'Oh, my God.'

Anna was watching her; and watching her, knowing that Creek had made a connection with the woman. Nothing forced here, no sense that Creek was a fling for her. She liked him, a lot. And Anna liked her, for that.

Anna sat on a too-soft chair with her legs curled beneath her, and stared, running mental movies of her time with Creek. Glass tried to read a Times: Harper wandered.

'Look,' Harper finally said to Anna. 'We're not gonna do your pal any good sitting around.'

'I'm not leaving until I know how he is,' Anna said.

'Neither am I,' Glass said.

Harper pulled a chair out of the line beside Anna's, and faced it toward her. 'What have you been doing the last couple of days?'

The question had a rhetorical sound to it, and Anna shrugged and opened her mouth and Harper cut her off: 'I'll tell you what. You've been shuttling around from one bunch of cops to another. Santa Monica, L.A., Venice, these guys up in Burbank, whoever they were.'

'North Hollywood.'

'Whatever. And you know what? All those cops are hoping that somebody else'll get this guy, because they ain't got squat, and they don't have enough time to chase him with everything else they gotta do.'

'We're chasing him,' Glass said grimly.

'C'mon,' Harper said to her. 'How many hours will you put on it? The only reason L.A. tolerates me running around is because I used to work there, and they're hoping I might turn something up and call them. They just don't have the time.'

'They'll makethe time,' Anna said grimly. 'The only reason this guy isn't a big story is that nobody's paid attention to him. If I want them to pay attention, they will.'

'Oh, bullshit,' Harper said. 'How're you gonna do that? You can't.'

'You don't know everything about television,' Anna said, interrupting. 'You look at anybody in this place'she waved at the emergency room in general'and I could do a story on himor herand I could sell it. Anybody. You, me, the nurse guy, the guy with the cut. A serial killer? Everybody would take it, if it was done right. And I'll tell you whatthe cops don't want to chase him, I'll put them on CNN tomorrow morning. Thenthey'll chase him.'

Harper was shaking his head: 'All right. Maybe you could do that, but.'

'You'd just start a cluster-fuck,' Glass said, interrupting him. 'They'd bring in the nine patrolmen with the flattest feet and put them in suits and have them go around with notepads, playing investigator, and nothing would get done. I mean, you'd just panic themusand piss 'em off.'

'I've dealt with a couple of these guys, the fruitcakes,' Harper said intently. 'They're crazy and screwed up but most of them are. sort of smart. Twisted, but not stupid. You sic the cops on him really heavyyou put him on TVand he'll love it. And then he'll kill somebody else just to keep things going. One of your friends, maybe. And he'll be looking for you, too. He'll be out thereand if the cops don't get him, he'll get you, eventually.'

'Are you trying to scare me?' Anna asked coldly.

'Yes. 'Cause you should be scared. Now what I'm suggesting is, we get a little proactive.'

'Proactive? You sound like the Long Beach chamber of commerce.'

'What I'm saying is, you talk to me: about your friends, about Creek's friends, about the dopers you've known, about weird shit you've seen the last couple of months. Creek must know some dopers, living where he does, there's dope coming through the Marina all the time, and with your job

'You've been down to look at Creek's place?' Glass asked.

'Sure. Looked at his boat, looked at his house.' He turned back to Anna. 'But getting back to the point: talk to me. Let me debrief you. The shooteryou know him. We can work out a few ideas together, and I'll check them out.'

Anna said, 'Look, Jake, I don't know what's going on, but I really think you're wasting your time. This can't have anything to do with your son. If you think about it.'

He spread his hands, then touched her knee: 'So maybe it doesn't. I'd like to find out for sure, though. That's the only thing I've gotI want to know what the dope was about.'

'If you find the dealer, what're you gonna do?' Glass asked.

'I don't know,' he said.

'Kill him?' asked Anna.

He looked away from them, down the hall. 'I don't know. I doubt it. But I won't know for sure until I get there.'

They were still talking when a doctor came down the hall, surgery gown showing a half-dozen blood spots, his mask pulled down under his chin. He pulled off his cap as he came up, looked at Anna and asked, a little doubt in his voice, 'Are you Mr Creek's relatives?'

Anna and Glass were on their feet: 'How is he?'

'You don't look like sisters.'

'Different mom,' Anna said. Tell us.'

Again, their intensity banished doubt about the connection and the doc smiled gravely and said, 'Unless there's something we didn't find, he should be okay.'

'Oh, thank God,' Anna said, and Glass started to leak tears again.

'But he's hurt badly,' the surgeon continued. 'The lung will repair itself fairly quickly, but there's muscle damage in the chest wall and the back muscles, and that'll take a while.'

'When's he gonna be able to talk?' Harper asked.

'Tomorrow, probably. He's going to be pretty sleepy for a couple of days, at least. Then he's going to hurtbut I doubt he'll be in here a week.'

'Did the police tell you about the circumstances of the shooting?' Harper asked.

The doc nodded: 'Yes. We'll list him under an aliaswe do it all the time in battering cases. If somebody doesn't know exactly where to find him, they won't.'

'Aw, that's great,' Anna said.

Glass started sniffing again, and then turned to Anna and said, 'I don't cry for anything. Ever.'

Anna nodded. 'Neither do I,' she said, another tear rolling down her cheek.

They stayed until Creek had gone to the recovery room, then Glass left in a hurry: 'I'm moving in here,' she declared. 'I've got to get some stuff together, and get some time off.'

'Moving in?' Anna asked.

'The guy may be stalking you, but he's killing the people around you,' Glass said. 'I'm gonna get a chair and sit in his room with a gun.'

When she was gone, Harper and Anna stood by the side of the street, the sun beating down. 'What're you gonna do?' Harper asked.

'Try to get some sleep,' Anna said. 'Try to think of some names.'

'Think of some names?'

'Yeah. I'm gonna talk to you. And something else.'

'What's that?'

'When you go looking for this guy,' Anna said, in a way that left no doubt, 'I'm coming with you.'

Chapter 12

Anna made lists.

She slept, exhausted, but her brain made lists, the crazies, the dopers, the men who'd come on to her in the past six months, anyone who might have fixated on her.

She dreamed, twisting in the percale sheets, of the man at the truck, the shooter: a big man, with something familiar to him, a way of holding his shoulders. And the voice: he'd said only one word, her name, but he'd spoken it before, in her hearing. She knew this man.

But who was it? She found herself paying attention to Harper, when he spoke her name. Was the voice the same? She didn't think sobut now she was confusing her memories of the shooting with other moments, with other people calling her name.

She made lists.

A thumpa human soundfrom downstairs. She rose out of her sleep like a diver coming to the surface, breaking through, gasping, looking around, thinking, gun. But she had no gun, the gun was in the truck.