'Oh yeah. The word was invented for him.'
We only have to walk a block to reach the coffee shop, something San Francisco seems to have as many of as Seattle. It's a mom-and-pop place, not a franchise, with a relaxed, earthy feel to it. I order a cafe mocha. Jenny gets some hot tea. We settle down at a table next to the window and enjoy not talking for a moment. Sipping at our respective cups. The mocha is exquisite. Exquisite enough, I realize, for me to enjoy it, even with all the death around me. I look outside at the city passing by. San Francisco has always intrigued me. It's the New York of the West Coast. Cosmopolitan, with European influences, it has its own charm and character. I can usually tell if someone is from San Francisco by their clothing. It's one of the few places on the West Coast where you see wool trench coats and hats, berets and leather gloves. Stylish. The day outside is nice; San Francisco can tend to run chilly, but today the sun is out, and the weather hovers in the low seventies. A scorcher by this city's standards. Jenny puts down her tea and runs a finger around the rim of the cup. She seems thoughtful. 'I was surprised to see you here. Even more surprised to find out you're not heading up your team.'
I look over my cup at her. 'That was the deal. Annie King was a friend of mine, Jenny. I have to stay on the periphery of this. At least officially. Besides, I'm not ready to run NCAVC Coord again, not yet.'
Her gaze at me reveals nothing, but neither does it judge. 'Not ready as in you say you're not ready, or the Bureau says it?'
'It's me saying it.'
'So . . . don't be offended, Smoky, but if that's true, how did you even get authorization to come up here? I don't think my Captain would have let me, in a similar situation.'
I explain to her about the changes that I had felt in myself by virtue of connecting back up with my team. 'It seems to be good therapy for me right now. I guess the Assistant Director saw it that way too.'
Jenny is silent for a moment before speaking. 'Smoky, you and I are friends. We don't trade Christmas cards or come over for Thanksgiving. We're not that kind of friends. But still friends, right?'
'Sure. Of course.'
'Then as a friend, I have to ask: Are you going to be able to deal with this case? All the way? This is bad stuff. Real bad. You know me, and you know I've seen a lot. But that thing with her daughter . . .' She shudders, an involuntary spasm. 'I'm gonna have nightmares about it. On top of that, what was done to your friend wasn't pretty either. Oh yeah, and she was your friend. I can understand what you're saying about it being healthy for you to test the waters again, but do you really think this is the case to do it with?'
I am honest in my reply. 'I don't know. That's the truth. I'm messed up, Jenny, make no mistake about that. I guess it doesn't make a lot of visible sense for me to get involved, but . . .' I think for a minute. 'It's like this. Do you know what I've been doing since Matt and Alexa died?
Nothing. I don't mean nothing as in taking it easy. I mean nothing. As in sitting in a single place all day long, staring at a blank wall. I go to sleep and have nightmares, wake up, and stare at things till I go back to sleep. Oh, or sometimes, I look at myself in the mirror for hours and trace over these scars with my fingers.' Tears prick my eyes. I'm gratified to find that they are tears of anger and not weakness. 'All I can tell you is that that--living like that--is even more terrible than what I'll see being involved with Annie's death. I think. I know that sounds selfish, but it's the truth.' I run out of words like a clock that needs to be wound. Jenny sips from her tea. The city continues to churn around us, unaware.
'Makes sense to me. So, you want my impressions of the scene?'
This is all she says. She is not brushing me off. She is acknowledging me in her way. Telling me she understands, so let's get down to business. I am grateful.
'Please.'
'I got the call yesterday.'
I interrupt. 'As in you, personally?'
'Yep. Asked for me by name. Voice was disguised, and told me to check my e-mail. I might have ignored it, but he mentioned you.'
'Disguised how?'
'It was muffled. Like he'd put a cloth over the mouthpiece of his phone.'
'Any notable inflections? Unusual use of slang? Hint of an accent of any kind?'
Jenny looks at me, a bemused smile on her face. 'You going to work me like a witness, Smoky?'
'You are a witness. For me, at least. You're the only person who actually talked to him, and you saw the scene fresh. So, yeah.'
'Fair enough.' I see her thinking about my question for a moment.
'I'd have to say no. In fact, I would say just the opposite. There was an absence of inflection. His voice was very flat.'
'Can you remember what he said, exactly?' I know the answer to this question is yes. Jennifer has an unusual memory. It's as scary in its own way as my skill with a handgun, and is feared by defense attorneys.
'Yeah. He said: 'Is this Detective Chang?' I said it was. 'You've got mail,' he said, but then he didn't laugh. That was one of things that got my attention, first. He didn't push the melodrama of it. Just said it as a flat fact. I asked who this was, and he said, 'Someone's dead. Smoky Barrett knows them. You've got mail.' And then he hung up.'
'Nothing else?'
'That was it.'
'Hm. Do we know where the call originated?'
'From a pay phone in LA.'
My ears perk up at this. 'Los Angeles?' I think about it. 'Maybe that's why he needed three days. So either he's a traveler, or he's actually from LA.'
'Or he's just messing with us. If he is from LA, then my guess would be that he came up here for Annie.' Her face looks strained and uncomfortable as she says this. I know why.
'Which would mean I was the person whose attention he wanted to get.' I have already accepted this possibility--no, make that probability--although I have not confronted it emotionally. The fact that Annie may be dead not only because of what she did but because she was my friend.
'Right. But that's all conjecture. Anyway, so I go and check my e-mail--'
I interrupt her. 'Where did he send the e-mail from?'
She looks at me, hesitant. 'He sent it from your friend's computer, Smoky. It was her e-mail address.'
This sparks a sudden, unexpected wave of anger in me. I know he did this not just to cover his tracks, but to show that what was Annie's was now his. I push it aside. 'Go on.'
'It gave Annie King's name and address, nothing else, and there were four attachments. Three were photos of your friend. The fourth was the letter to you. At this point, we are taking it seriously. You can fake anything when it comes to photos these days, but it's like a bomb threat--you evacuate just in case. So my partner and I gathered up some uniforms and went over to the address.' She sips her tea. 'The door wasn't locked, and after some knocking without any answer, we pulled our weapons and entered. Your friend and her daughter were in the bedroom, on the bed. She had her computer set up in there.' She shakes her head, remembering. 'It was a bad scene, Smoky. You've seen more of that than I have, that kind of methodical, intentional killing, but I don't think you'd have seen it differently. He cut her open, removed her insides, and bagged them. Slit her throat. But the worst of it was the daughter.'
'Bonnie.'
'Right. She was tied face-to-face with her mother. Nothing fancy. He just put them stomach to stomach, and wrapped rope around them both until she couldn't move. She was there like that for three days, Smoky. Tied to her own dead mother. You know what happens to a body in three days. The air-conditioning wasn't on. And the fucker had left a window cracked. There were blowflies.'
I do know. What she's describing is unimaginable.
'The kid is ten years old, and the smell is already bad, and she's there with flies all over. She'd turned her head so her cheek was resting on her mom's face.' Jenny grimaces, and I get a hint of the horror she felt at that moment. I'm thankful, so thankful, I wasn't there for that. 'She was quiet. Didn't say a word when we got into the room. Not while we were untying her. She was just limp, and stared. Unresponsive to questions. She was dehydrated. We got EMS over right away, and I sent her off with an officer. She's fine physically, and I have a guard posted at the door of her room just in case. I got her a private room, by the way.'
