Freezing

recognized as a defrosted Krispy Kreme donut in three bites. Only then did she speak.

‘I’m either about to be arrested for assaulting a cop or I’ve just escaped being kidnapped by a total nutcase. I know,’ she looked at Jayne. ‘You’d think I’d be able to tell the difference.’

Jayne wrapped her arms around herself. ‘What happened?’

Steelie recounted the incident at the shopping center but she couldn’t do it without pacing to the front window periodically and peering out at the street through a chink in the curtains. Finally, she said, ‘At first I thought he was legit. But then there were those fingernails and I couldn’t see anything! And he didn’t want my ID! I mean, that’s so not like them. God, this sounds stupid now.’

Jayne sounded more confident than she felt. ‘No, it doesn’t. Cops are supposed to identify themselves properly, not wrench your car door open. It’s not like he stopped you after a high-speed chase.’

‘I should have known when he got out of the cruiser right away. Don’t they usually sit there for a couple minutes while they run your license plate through NCIC?’

‘I think so. But this was a tail light stop.’

‘Except it wasn’t.’

‘Wait, what?’

‘Sorry, I forgot that part.’ Steelie glanced out the front window again. ‘I checked. My tail lights are fine.’

‘Oh my God.’ Jayne came around to sit on the sofa. ‘What the hell is this? Why would a cop tell you to get out of your car to look at a tail light you would immediately see was just fine?’

‘Well, it would get me out of my car, wouldn’t it? And once there, I’m just another vic he can overpower.’

Jayne was shaking her head. ‘But if he assaults you, you could ID him later. It’s risky as hell.’

Steelie sat down next to her, arms folded across her chest. ‘Maybe it was a carjacking.’

‘In Atwater Village?’

‘Why not? Look at it. Late at night, deserted parking lot, some guy with a decommissioned police cruiser painted a dark color just waits for someone to pull in. Uses a fake uniform picked up at any Hollywood costume shop to get the person out of their vehicle on the fake pull. He hits ’em on the head or whatever once they’re out, and he gets to go off in their – presumably nicer – vehicle. Parts will be sold to fifteen shops all over town by the time you can call the real cops.’

‘Do you really believe that?’

Steelie was silent for a moment, thinking. ‘No. It’s an awful lot of trouble for your typical opportunist. So if he was a cop, he probably already has my license plate and he will come and get me . . .’

‘I hear another “and” in there.’

‘And . . . I was thinking about your place. The wire. What if it’s connected? Think about it, Jayne. We find some black box on your porch, in plant pots delivered by someone unknown. Wire is drilled into your house. We leave, you come here, I get pulled over by a fake cop who’s followed me into the parking lot.’

Jayne grabbed her arm. ‘I’ve just remembered! I saw that car pull in behind you. He had been behind me!’

‘From where? How far back did you notice him?’ Steelie looked at her intently.

‘Um, let me think. He was there when we turned on to Los Feliz.’

‘By Griffith Park?’

‘Yeah. I definitely remember him being there after we crossed the river, because I was looking behind me for anyone merging off the Five.’

‘You’re going forwards, Jayne. Did you see him before we turned on to Los Feliz?’

Jayne thought. ‘No.’ She exhaled. ‘I don’t remember anything from before then.’

Steelie walked to the telephone hanging on the wall in the kitchen. ‘I’m going to call Bud Reese. I’ll bet his wife hasn’t let him retire yet.’

‘But doesn’t he work out of Downtown?’

‘He’ll know who to call over here.’

Jayne listened as Steelie greeted Reese, one of the LAPD officers she had had a lot of interaction with while working at Legal Aid. She described what had happened to her that evening and then described the wire in the plant pots. Then she listened while making notes on a pad. She laughed once and said, ‘Give me a little credit, Bud.’ Eventually, she thanked him and hung up.

Steelie threw the pencil down on the pad. ‘OK, so he says I have grounds to make a complaint because the guy probably was a cop – a bad one. He gave me the number to call. He doesn’t think it was a carjacking, though they just picked up two guys for impersonating cops while shaking down undocumented immigrants who keep stalls in the Garment District. So it’s not unheard of. But the wire in your pots is another story. He asked if we’d ruled out a self-watering system.’

‘He thinks this is funny?’

‘No, he thinks he’s funny. The wire he takes seriously. He said wires going toward thresholds “scream” tapping to him.’

‘Tapping? Like bugging?’

‘Like that. He didn’t want to touch it with a ten-foot pole. Said it was very unlikely whatever’s going on will end up in LAPD’s jurisdiction so he recommended we go direct to the FBI.’

Jayne scrunched her hair. ‘God, Steelie. I really, really don’t want to call Scott.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because there’s no way to tell him what happened without him finding out that I . . . that I overreacted to some noise on my porch.’

‘It wasn’t an overreaction for someone with PTSD.’

‘Argh! How many times do I have to tell you? I do not have PTSD!’

Steelie compressed her lips. ‘Yeah, I got that memo. So, what you’re actually telling me is that Scott doesn’t know that you have symptoms of some thing that isn’t Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder but, ya know, looks just like it?’

Jayne glared at her but then sighed and shook her head in the negative.

Steelie crossed her arms. ‘Here I always thought you kept things going long-distance with Scott because you were holding out for when you two lived in the same city. Now I see you’ve just been hiding behind the telephone.’

Jayne only shrugged.

‘God, Jayne, you have no reason to hide anything. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of! How many times do I have to tell you?’

Jayne’s voice was small. ‘I just know he’ll see me as damaged goods and that’ll be the end of it.’

Steelie crossed the room to put a hand on Jayne’s shoulder. ‘The problem isn’t how he sees you, it’s how you see yourself. Plus, he probably knows about trauma. He was in Kosovo when the bombs were still dropping.’

‘Exactly. And he’s never mentioned repercussions.’

Steelie shrugged. ‘That just makes him lucky, not superhuman.’ She let go of Jayne and looked at her watch. ‘I’m going to call him and Eric first thing tomorrow. In the meantime, you’re staying here. Get up so I can make the sofa bed.’

Jayne went to the kitchen. ‘I wasn’t planning on leaving you here to get attacked by the rogue cop-carjacker who probably has your address.’

‘He never even looked at my license!’

Jayne opened the fridge and leaned down to examine its shelves. ‘You don’t know what he looked at. You got anything to eat in here? What is all this stuff? Looks like pressed cardboard.’

Steelie came in from the hall with two pillows and some sheets in her arms. ‘That’s Tofurkey. Trader Joe’s special.’

‘Why did you give up meat only to eat false meat?’

‘You want me to short-sheet your sofa bed? No? Then I suggest you shut up and be glad when I serve it up for breakfast tomorrow.’