“What?” I asked, too punchy from sleeplessness to keep myself from laughing in response.
Tears were rolling down his face. “Your hair,” he choked out.
I looked over the back of the swing into a picture window, where I saw my admittedly ridiculous reflection. I had slept on my hair funny, and now, on each side of my face, it spiked out in fantastic angles from my head. I looked like I had hired my hairdresser after a layoff at the circus.
“Glad you like it,” I said, trying to smooth it down. Hopeless. As hopeless as not laughing about it myself.
Eventually we wound down from it. I felt suddenly ashamed.
“You think Frank would resent you for laughing?” he asked, his accuracy annoying the hell out of me once again.
“You’re full of horseshit, remember?”
“Yeah,” he said, starting the swing in motion again.
After a moment he said, “I have this dream sometimes — about an old, old case. An early-morning bank robbery. There were three employees inside, but two got out while this one woman distracted the robbers, told them she was the only one there. They kept her hostage. In real life, they shot and killed her in the bank. In the dream, she’s alive again. Instead of shooting her, they’ve taken her with them to a hiding place. I’ve got another chance to find her, and I’m out looking for her. Sometimes, that’s all there is to it — I just search in vain. Wake up frustrated. Other times, like tonight, I find the hiding place, but no matter what I say, they shoot her.”
We sat in the swing for what seemed like a long time.
“Thanks,” he said at last.
“You’d do the same for one of your friends, right?”
He looked at me and smiled. “Sure would.”
A little later he said, “If we’re friends, then—”
“Uh-oh,” I said. “Here it comes.”
“If we’re friends,” he repeated, “why don’t you tell me what you have planned for the day?”
“Why should I?”
“Why not?”
I thought about it for a moment. “I guess I’ve never been too hot on getting permission. I like to be able to work independently.”
“So you’re feeling hemmed in.”
“But you can see what my concerns are? Not just for your safety, but for Frank’s?”
“Yes,” I admitted. “And I understand — it’s a police investigation.”
“Well, as far as that goes, if a case requires me to get someone outside of the department to work with me, I don’t get too fussy about it if they don’t have a badge. I’ve got bigger problems to solve. But I also have to keep a handle on things, so I can’t just let everyone who wants to help go haring off in any old direction they please.”
“I have a feeling you have a compromise in mind.”
He smiled. “You do, huh? Well, you’re right. How about this — you go on and tell me what your plans are. You tell me what you’re going to do today, and unless I’ve got a reasonable objection, you do it. But you talk to me before you talk to anybody — I mean
“And your part of this bargain?”
“I don’t have you tailed or hound you or force you to stay around here just so I know where you are — all of which I can easily do, you understand. But I prefer it this way. I trust you. You trust me. That’s it. You don’t waste your time trying to sneak around, I don’t waste mine keeping a leash on you.”
I thought about it. “All right,” I said. “I’m meeting Cecilia Parker at seven. Then I’m going to the library.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“Yes, the library, Cassidy. Not as direct as going to the Bakersfield PD, but it won’t set off as many alarm bells if our man has friends in the department.”
“You don’t believe they’ll protect someone like this, do you?”
“No, I don’t believe the department is crooked, if that’s what you’re asking. But if word gets around that you’re asking for personnel files, don’t you think we’ll give this guy a head start?”
“I haven’t asked for any yet.”
“Why not?”
He sighed. “For the reasons you just mentioned.”
“I’m thinking of asking Bea to invite Brian’s old friends over for dinner. They’re the right age group. Maybe we can pick up a few leads from them. I’ll tell Bea that we need to talk to people who were around at the time, who know about the case.”
“Sounds good, but I don’t understand what you’re going to be doing at the library.”
“On a Sunday, it’s probably the fastest way to get a look at photographs of the Bakersfield PD.”
“Photographs of officers in the library?”
“City annuals. They’ll have them in the historical collection at the Beale Library on Truxtun. At the very least,
