Freezing

‘Wait. So you didn’t leave a plant marker in them today?’

‘No, but what a cute idea!’

‘It’s not cute if you didn’t do it!’

‘Jayne, what’s going on? You sound . . . frazzled.’

‘Look, did you tell anyone about my cacti?’

‘Why would I tell anyone?’

‘You know, like one of your landscapers? Tell them to replace the cacti for me?’

‘No. What is this? Jayne?’

She didn’t answer because Steelie had come to stand in the doorway and was making a throat-slitting motion, which Jayne took to mean, Get off the phone NOW.

‘I’ll call you later, Mom. Bye.’

She looked at Steelie who now had a finger to her lips and was beckoning to her.

Steelie shined light into the plant tub closest to the house. She had excavated more soil than the possums had and the landing was a mess. The root ball of the daisy bush was exposed and nestled beneath it was a plastic box. Steelie gently tilted the tub to expose its underside. A coated wire snaked out of the central drainage hole and ran under the landing. Steelie used the light to trace the wire along the inner edge of the floorboards until it disappeared into a small hole just under the threshold to her apartment. The hair on the back of Jayne’s neck stood up.

Steelie whispered, ‘Get your purse and whatever else you want. You’re coming to my place and we’ll call for help from there.’

Jayne was filled with an overwhelming desire to get out of there and perhaps never come back. A few minutes later, she was driving behind Steelie, her overnight bag on the bench seat next to her, concentrating on the Wrangler’s tail lights. She couldn’t think; felt frightened out of all proportion and that fact bothered her as much as the situation itself.

Her cell phone rang and Jayne jumped again. She knew it would be half an hour or so before she settled down. It was Steelie on the phone, telling Jayne she was stopping for ‘emergency ice cream’ and confirming that Jayne had the spare key. Steelie pulled into the left turn lane for the Atwater Village Shopping Center, followed by the sedan behind Jayne, who herself indicated a right turn.

Jayne drove slowly through Atwater’s rows of 1920s Spanish houses, each looking compact and picturesque under graceful towering trees. Few had fences, so the streets felt open and inviting. Narrow driveways separated most houses, enough of whose stucco finishes were painted in earthy tones to give away mild gentrification.

She parked in front of the casita, noticing that Steelie had left a light on inside but only sheer shades pulled over the front windows. That wasn’t like Steelie but the effect was nice. The glow emphasized the arches of the tall living room windows while the up-lights among the aloes in the garden picked out the interlocking curves of the clay roof tiles. Jayne’s shoes crunched on the gravel path to the front porch, reminding her of how Marie and Steelie had collaborated to make a water-conscious garden on a budget. She unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Steelie waited for the arrow, feeling a little worried. She was used to Jayne’s fears, which almost bordered on paranoia, but she knew from where they originated. She’d learned it was better to address whatever had frightened Jayne rather than try to talk her out of it. PTSD didn’t work like that.

But this was different. There was something man-made in the plant tubs outside Jayne’s front door. Someone had put it there, and Steelie couldn’t come up with a ready explanation. She made the turn into the shopping center parking lot. Almost immediately, she was blinded by light reflected in her rearview mirror. She put her hand up to cut the glare. The side mirror showed nothing but bright light. Then she heard the too-brief wa- woop of a siren behind her. It seemed to echo on the night air. Odd that she hadn’t noticed a police cruiser before now and she didn’t think she’d rolled through a red light anywhere.

There were plenty of parking spaces to choose from at this time of night and she navigated the Jeep into one. She locked the door, opened the window, and got out her identification, using her side mirror to see if the officer was approaching. She could barely see him because the spotlight on his vehicle had made a silhouette of his form but she noted his swagger and that he didn’t make the usual stop to write down her license plate number.

When he reached her window, the bright light slanted across his oversized, tinted glasses. It was impossible to see his eyes.

‘Ma’am.’

‘Evening, Officer.’ Steelie scanned his uniform for his badge. The way he was leaning hid most of his nametag – ‘Marron’ or ‘Marion’.

‘Do you know why I stopped you?’

‘No. Is there a problem?’ She was looking at his mouth since she couldn’t see his eyes. A light-colored moustache all but hid his upper lip.

‘One of your tail lights is out.’

‘Really? Which one?’

‘Step out of the vehicle, Ma’am.’

‘Don’t you want to check my license and registration?’

‘Please step out of the vehicle, ma’am.’ He took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I can help you determine if it’s a fuse or a bulb. It’s a lot cheaper to fix if it’s a fuse.’

Warning bells were going off in Steelie’s mind but she couldn’t tell how much was Jayne’s paranoia infecting her and how much was her ex-Legal Aid bias against police but she was going to follow Legal Aid’s advice to its clients. ‘Can I see your ID first, please?’ She tried to smile. ‘Never can be too sure these days.’

‘No, ma’am, I guess you can’t.’ He came to the window and leaned his right arm on the door. He used his left hand to pull a vinyl badge envelope from his top pocket and flashed it quickly before replacing it.

Steelie barely made out a photo with some writing next to it. It had looked OK. She told herself to stop being paranoid and moved to unlock the door. Then she noticed his fingernails. They were long. They seemed too long for a cop. Her pulse quickened.

‘Sorry, could I see it closer, please?’

She wasn’t ready when he tried to open the door, and then reached through the window. He seemed to know the lock was low and forward and his hand scrabbled for it, banging Steelie’s knee. She screamed and grabbed for the ignition. She over-started the engine, which whined, then roared to life. Throwing the car into first gear, she slammed on the gas and popped the clutch. The car peeled out, the window frame slamming the cop’s elbow.

‘God dammit!’ he shouted, leaping back.

One of the Jeep’s wheels went directly over the concrete bumper at the front of the parking space and Steelie momentarily drove on the passenger-side wheels until the vehicle dropped back down. As soon as all four tires gained purchase, she was at the exit in an instant. Only the Jeep’s high clearance saved it from scraping heavily across the deep gutter where the driveway met the road but her head almost hit the ceiling when the car bounced across the intersection. As she raced down the nearest residential street, her heart pounded. She barely watched the road ahead as she scanned her rearview mirror, looking for chasing headlights.

When she halted in her own driveway minutes later, she only calmed down when she realized she wouldn’t be able to get her keys out of the ignition until she actually shut off the engine. A buzzer sounded as she opened her door and she whipped her head around to the street before recognizing the sound as her own car’s warning that the lights were still on. She walked to the back of the car, expecting to see one of the tail lights darkened. Both lights were working. She squeezed her eyes closed for a second, then took a last look around the street before she turned off the lights, pulled a car cover over the Jeep, and ran to her front door.

When Jayne saw the look on Steelie’s face, she knew not to ask about the ice cream but when Steelie double-locked the front door and pulled closed the living room curtains, Jayne sat up on the sofa. Steelie kept moving fast toward the rear of the house. Jayne first heard the slap of Venetian blinds as Steelie wrenched them closed at the kitchen window that overlooked the small back yard, then the sound of the fridge or freezer, followed by the microwave starting. When Jayne heard the bolt at the back door slide into place, she got up. She’d only known Steelie to throw that bolt when she was going out of town. She crossed to the kitchen as Steelie came in from the back hall and the microwave dinged.

Jayne asked nervously, ‘What’s going on?’

Steelie shook her head as she pulled a wax paper-wrapped parcel out of the microwave. She ate what Jayne