“You promise?”
“I promise.”
I yanked open the curtain again and a blast of sunlight entered the room.
“Okay.”
“Thank you. Are you going to your house? If you really want it, I can get somebody to meet you there.”
“Nah, I’ll be all right. I was just making a play for you. I want to see you. But if you’re not even in town… When did you get there, anyway?”
“This morning on a red-eye. I tried to delay it so I could stay on the case. But that’s not the way the bureau works.”
“Right.”
“So I’m here and I’m meeting with my defense rep to go over everything. In fact, he’s going to be here any minute and I need to put some stuff together.”
“Fine. I’ll let you go. Where are you going to be staying?”
“The Hotel Monaco on F Street.”
We ended the call after that. I stood at the window, looking out but not seeing what was there. I was thinking about Rachel fighting for her job and the one thing that seemed to keep her tethered to the world.
I realized she wasn’t that much different from me.
NINE: The Dark of Dreams
Carver watched the home in Scottsdale from the darkness of his car. It was too early to make his move. He would wait and watch until he was sure it was safe. This didn’t bother him. He enjoyed being alone and in the dark. It was his place. He had his music on the iPod and the Lizard King had kept him company his whole life.
I’m a changeling, see me change. I’m a changeling, see me change.
It had always been his anthem, a song to set his life by. He turned the volume up and closed his eyes. He reached his hand down to the side of the seat and pushed the button that reclined him further.
The music transported him back. Past all the memories and nightmares. Back to the dressing room with Alma. She was supposed to be watching him but she had her hands full with the thread and needlework. She couldn’t watch him all the time and it wasn’t fair to expect it. There were house rules about mothers and children. The mother was ultimately responsible, even while onstage.
Young Wesley made his move, slipping through the beaded curtains as quiet as a mouse. He was so small he only disturbed five or six strands. He then went down the hall past the foul-smelling bathroom to where the flashing lights emanated from.
He made the turn and there was Mr. Grable in his tuxedo, sitting on a stool. He was holding the microphone, waiting for the song to end.
The music was loud at this end of the hall, but not so loud that Wesley didn’t hear the cheers-and some of the jeers. He crept up behind Mr. Grable and looked out between the legs of the stool. The stage was splashed with harsh white light. He saw her then. Naked in front of all the men. The music pulsing through him.
Girl, you gotta love your man…
She moved perfectly with the music. As if it had been written and recorded just for her. He watched and felt entranced. He didn’t want the music to stop. It was perfect. She was perfect and he-
He was suddenly grabbed from behind by the back of his T-shirt’s collar and yanked backward down the hall. He managed to look up and see it was Alma.
“You are a very bad little boy!” she scolded.
“No,” he cried. “I wanna see my-”
“Not now, you don’t!”
She dragged him back through the beads and into the dressing room. She pushed him down onto the pile of feather boas and silk scarves.
“You are in big troub-What is that?”
She was pointing at him, finger aimed low. At the place where he felt strange feelings begin from.
“I’m a good boy,” he said.
“Not with that, you aren’t,” Alma said. “Let’s see what you’ve got there.”
She reached down and put her hand under his belt. She started to pull his pants down.
“You little pervert,” Alma said. “I’m going to show you what we do with perverts around here.”
Wesley was frozen in terror. That word she called him. He didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t know what to do.
The sharp knock of metal on glass cut through the music and the dream. Carver jumped up in his seat. Momentarily disoriented, he looked around, realized where he was, and pulled the buds out of his ears.
He looked out the window, and there was McGinnis, standing in the street. He was holding a leash that led down to the collar on a little pip-squeak dog. Carver saw the fat Notre Dame ring on his finger. He must have hit the window with it to get his attention.
Carver lowered the window. At the same time, he used his foot to make sure the gun he’d placed on the floor was out of sight.
“Wesley, what are you doing here?”
The dog started yapping before Carver could answer, and McGinnis shushed it.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Carver said.
“Then, why didn’t you come up to the house?”
“Because I also have to show you something.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Get in and I’ll take you.”
“Take me where? It’s almost midnight. I don’t under-”
“It has to do with that visit from the FBI the other day. I think I know who they’re looking for.”
McGinnis took a step forward to look in closely at Carver.
“Wesley, what’s going on? What do you mean ‘who they’re looking for’?”
“Just get in and I’ll explain it on the way.”
“What about my dog?”
“You can bring it. We won’t be long.”
McGinnis shook his head like he was annoyed with the whole thing but then walked around to get into the car. Carver leaned forward and quickly grabbed the gun off the floor and put it into the rear waistband of his pants. He’d have to live with the discomfort.
McGinnis put the dog in the backseat and then got into the front.
“It’s a she,” he said.
“What?” Carver asked.
“The dog’s a she, not an it.”
“Whatever. She won’t pee in my car, will she?”
“Don’t worry. She just went.”
“Good.”
Carver started driving out of the neighborhood.
“Is your house locked?” he asked.
“Yes, I lock up when we go on walks. You never know with the neighborhood kids. They all know I live alone.”
“That’s smart.”
“Where are we going?”
“To where Freddy Stone lives.”
“Okay, so now tell me what is going on and what it has to do with the FBI.”
“I told you. I have to show you.”
“Then tell me what you’re going to show me. Have you talked to Stone? Did you ask him where the hell he’s been?”
Carver shook his head.
“No, I haven’t talked to him. That’s why I went to his place tonight, to try to catch him. He wasn’t there but I found something else. The website the FBI was asking about. He’s the guy behind it.”
“So as soon as he hears that the FBI came by with a warrant, he takes a hike.”
“It looks that way.”
“We need to call the FBI, Wesley. We can’t look like we were protecting this guy, no matter what he was into.”
“But it could hurt the business if it blows up in the media. It could bring us down.”
McGinnis shook his head.
“We’ll just have to take our lumps,” he said emphatically. “Covering it up will never work.”
“All right. We go to his place first and then we call the FBI. Do you remember the names of those two agents?”
“I have their cards at the office. One was named Bantam. I remember it because he was a big guy but his name was Bantam, like the bantamweight class in boxing, which is the small guys.”
“Right. Now I remember.”
The lights of the tall buildings in downtown Phoenix spread out before them on both sides of the freeway. Carver stopped talking and McGinnis did likewise. The dog was sleeping on the backseat of the car.