Then another thump, running water. and she recognized the thump as a toilet seat going up, then coming down, the water in the downstairs toilet.
Harper. He'd been sleeping on the couch. He wouldn't go away. She pushed herself up, glanced at the bedroom door. Closed, not locked.
Harper? No. She knew why Harper was here.
When she came down from the bedroom, hair still wet from the shower, Harper was putting at a paper circle on the living room carpet. 'Your floor breaks about an inch toward the back wall, on a fifteen-foot putt,' he said.
'Do tell.' She went on past and picked up the phone in the kitchen.
'He was awake for an hour about noon, but he's sleeping again. He's doing fine and without complications, he could be out this week.' Harper said. He was squatting, looking over a ball at the paper circle.
She put the phone back on the hook: 'How is that possible? This week?'
'They push them out in a hurry,' Harper said. He stood up, and hovered over the ball, then looked at Anna. 'Are you going to say something before I putt?'
'No.'
'I'd hate to have you say something right in the middle of my backswing.'
'No, go ahead.'
He moved the putter head back an inch, and Anna said, 'Watch it.' The stroke came through, and the ball missed the paper circle by two inches. 'That's fuckin' hilarious,' he said.
'Are we gonna talk, or are you gonna spend the afternoon playing with your putter?'
They walked out to Jerry's, into the sun, Anna quiet, head down. Harper carrying the putter, swinging it, balancing it, turning it like a walking stick. The afternoon traffic was already building toward the rush, and they had to wait before crossing Pacific to the restaurant.
'You're not scared enough,' Harper said, as they walked.
'What?'
'Most people, if a madman was stalking them, they couldn't move,' he said.
She thought about it as they crossed the street, and said, 'Maybe I'm burned out on being scared. Going out every night, we see all kinds of stuff, people shot and stabbed and squashed in cars and burned to death. When you see enough of it, you've got to assume it won't happen to you. You must've felt like that when you were a cop.'
'Nope. Never did. I was scared shitless all the time.'
Logan had parked the truck in the restaurant lot after the shooting, and now Anna unlocked the door, knelt on the seat and fished in the hideout box for the.357, got it, turned, and caught Harper appreciating her ass. She hopped out of the truck and dropped the pistol in her jacket pocket.
'I thought you kept the gun at home,' Harper said, grinning. He knew he'd been caught, and he wasn't the least abashed by it; he twirled the putter like a baton.
'I do, but I had it last night when Creek got shot, and I didn't want the cops to take it.'
Jerry's was Anna's regular spot, with comfortable booths and decent coffee, mostly empty in the late afternoon, the waiters bustling around, getting ready for the dinner rush. The owner, Donna TowJerry's ex-wifecame over with coffee and said, 'Heard about Creek. I called the hospital and they said he'd be okay.'
'Looks like it,' Anna said. They talked for a few more minutes, Anna giving her a quick account of the shooting.
'Too goddamn many guns around,' Tow said, as she headed back toward the kitchen.
Anna and Harper slid into a booth, and a waitress brought a pot of coffee and two cups. 'So what are we doing?' Anna asked Harper.
'Having you along won't make it easier,' Harper said.
'It might; I'm probably smarter than you are,' Anna said.
'Thatcould help,' he said. He grinned again: he wouldn't be goaded.
'So what.' The grin faded and he squared himself in the booth and said, 'Names. The whole thing is connected to O'Brien and Jacob: You shoot Jacob's. fall. and the next thing, the guy is coming after you and kills O'Brien and MacAllister, who also happen to be connected by drugs. Somewhere in there, we'll find his track.'
'But I didn't know that much about Jason,' Anna said. 'We'd done a few things over at UCLA, Creek and Louis and me, and he was taking film classes, and heard about us. He came up with a storythis was a year or so agoand we shot it and sold it. So he started looking for stuff, and whenever he'd come up with something, he rode along, shot it, and got a cut, ten percent.'
'But you weren't social.'
'No. He'd get me by phone, or if I needed an extra guy, I'd call him up. He was good with a camera and he had a cool head when things were getting rough. He'd keep shooting no matter what.'
'I know.' A sudden deep sadness crossed his face, and Anna reached out and touched his hand on the coffee cup. 'I'm really sorry about your kid. I mean, I really am.'
'Yeah.' He looked out the window, at a woman skating by in the street, Walkman phones on her ears. 'Christ, I hardly knew him. I mean, I'd see him all the timebut I didn't know him. It was like, I could get to know him later. My ex-wife, I think she did a pretty good job with him, now this.' He shook himself and said, 'So do you have any ideas about O'Brien? Where we start?'
'I know one name and faceBoband I've heard about a couple of other people. But if we can find Bob, we might have something.'
Bob, she told Harper, was also in film at UCLA. A few months earlier, Jason had called about a possible story. They'd arranged to meet in Santa Monica, and when they did, Bob was with him. They were both high.
'They either shared the dope or shared the dealer,' she said. 'One way or another.'
'So let's go talk to Bob,' Harper said, pushing the coffee away.
'Hospital first,' Anna said.
Creek was in a third-floor critical care unit, sleeping, an IV dripping into his arm. Pam Glass was curled up on a chair next to the bed, reading a magazine, wearing the same clothes she'd been wearing that morning. When she saw them coming, she smiled, weakly, and stood up. 'He should sleep for another hour or two,' she whispered.
'Have you been home?' Anna asked.
'No, I just went down to the corner for a sandwich. I'm okay.'
'God, Pam.' They both turned and looked at Creek. His hair had been tamed, and was pulled back under his head. His face was pale under the sailor's tan, his cheekbones more prominent than Anna remembered. And he looked, she thought, almost. old.
'An hour or two?' Anna asked.
Pam nodded. 'What are you guys doing?'
'Looking around,' Harper said.
Glass hardened up: 'Look, I know you were a hotshot when you were with the sheriff's department, but I don't think we really need.'
Harper grinned at her and said, 'Shhh.'
'What?'
'Just a minute ago you were really worried about Creek. That's a very nice aspect of your personality.' He looked at Anna and tipped his head toward the door. 'Let's go. We can be back in two hours.'
On the way to UCLA, Harper said, 'I've got a question, but I don't know exactly how to phrase it.'
'Think real hard,' Anna said. 'Pretend the question is a putt.'
'Okay. The thing is, you're an interesting woman. We're just starting to know each other, and I figure we can go one of two wayswe can have a pure business relationship, or we can think about maybe, you know, doing something together. I mean, not for sure, but leave the possibility open, since you don't seem to be involved with anybody. You know what I mean?'
'No. I don't think I understood the last sentence at all; it was too complicated,' Anna said. She understood. She was also enjoying herself.
'I'm saying that I've been tempted to come on to you, just a little bit,' Harper said.
'A little bit tempted, or a little bit come on?'
He changed lanes with a lurch, cutting off a Mercedes that had been coming up from behind. 'A lot tempted to come on a little bit.'
'Okay, I've got that. Go ahead.' She put her feet on the dashboard.
'But if there's no point, I'll forget it,' he said. 'Give up. On the other hand, if there is a point, then I'll continue to be tolerant and charming and liberal and shit, in my own cowboy way.'