Jayne and Steelie - 01 - Freezing (9 page)

‘So, how the hell are ya, Jayne Hall?'

His exuberance was infectious and she laughed. ‘Not bad, thanks. How was your flight?'

‘Hey, when it's business class, it's always good.'

She gave him an admiring glance. ‘Nice.' She pulled away from the hotel and headed back the way she came, then turned right on Tom Bradley Boulevard toward Little Tokyo. ‘So, what brings you here in business class?'

‘I've been working for an electronics company that's now looking to open a West Coast office. Sent me out here to take a couple of meetings, get the lay of the land. I won't bore you with the details.'

‘But when did you leave the FBI Lab?'

‘Years ago.'

‘I didn't know.'

‘Hey, how much of your life do you want to spend dealing with crime and criminals?'

She glanced at him with interest. ‘You miss anything from those days?'

‘Nope! The job I have now is dull and that's the way I like it. I can get my excitement elsewhere. Seeing you and Steelie is the highlight of this trip. Speaking of which, is she meeting us at the restaurant?'

Jayne was parking at a meter. She raised her voice over the passing traffic as she got out of the truck. ‘She couldn't come tonight. Pretty busy this week.'

Gene waited until she'd joined him on the sidewalk. ‘She still mad at me, then?'

She gave him an embarrassed grin and started walking.

‘Argh!' He threw his hands up in the air and caught up with her. ‘How long can someone hold a grudge for God's sake! It's been almost ten years.'

‘She's like an elephant; she never forgets.'

‘And now you two are running this charity. How's that going?'

‘It's good. Early days yet.'

‘How long since your doors opened?'

They'd crossed into Little Tokyo's center and were walking past bubble tea cafes and clothing shops. ‘It's been about a year now.'

‘I only had a second to glance at your website but you're trying to work on the backlog of bodies?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Pretty ambitious.'

She shot him a look. ‘What, just because it's a big job, we shouldn't bother?'

‘You know it's not just a big job, Jayne; it's damn near insurmountable.'

She didn't like the way he made air quotes with his fingers around “big job”, like she hadn't assessed the nature of the problem correctly. She wanted to say,
Well, with attitudes like that . . .
She voiced, ‘Depends on how you look at it.'

‘You're saying the glass is half full, not half empty.'

‘Yeah.'

‘Bullshit.'

She stopped walking and turned to look up at his face, remembering how he had a way of making her feel the height differential was just symbolic of his actual superiority. She was suddenly glad Steelie wasn't there. It would save her from having to post bail after Steelie was arrested for grievous bodily harm from punching Gene in the mouth.

‘It's not bullshit, Gene. Perspective makes a difference and if that means people like us keep trying to put names to bodies – particularly the difficult to identify – then that's a good thing.'

Jayne felt like his eyes were boring right through her but then he broke into a grin.

‘That must be the face your sponsors see when you're asking for grants.'

She couldn't tell if that was a compliment and didn't get a chance to ask because the host of the restaurant they had unwittingly stopped in front of asked if they'd like to see the menu. He was holding out a large, vinyl-covered book that Jayne accepted.

They stepped closer to the doorway to get light to read by and walked into the scent of food. She and Gene looked at each other in silent agreement.

They let the host lead them to a table set in a front window. There were a few other diners at tables partially obscured by ficus trees and ferns in pots. The lights were low, and the atmosphere was muted as people focused on their food.

She and Gene shared several dishes, telling old stories and arguing good-naturedly over details.

As they finished up, he asked, ‘Remember when you fell down the ravine in Rulindo?'

‘Oh, we can laugh about it now but you guys left me down there way too long.'

‘We knew you were OK.'

‘I could have broken my ankle!'

‘But you didn't.'

‘I think I did sprain it or something. It's never been the same.'

‘Really? You should get it checked out.'

Jayne smiled. ‘A bit late for that, don't you think?'

‘You, ah, ever get checked out by a psych?'

‘Why? Did you?'

‘When I got back to DC. But you didn't answer my question.'

‘No, I never saw anyone.'

‘Still could.'

‘I suppose.' She paused. ‘Did it help you? I mean, not that you needed help per se.'

Gene thought for a moment. ‘It helped me get some clarity about what I wanted to spend my life doing. Working in Rwanda kinda opened things up for me.'

‘How do you mean?'

‘I guess I felt some freedom there. When I got back home, I decided to pursue it; give myself permission to enjoy life, not stay enslaved to my government job and the road to a pension.' He tapped his cup thoughtfully and then smiled up at her. ‘You charge by the hour or what?'

Jayne smiled back.

Gene continued. ‘And you? What happened for you after the Kigali mission?'

‘More missions. Mostly in the so-called Balkan Hot Spots.'

‘That's right. I think I got news of you and Steelie every now and then. All mass graves?'

She nodded. ‘Barring a few multiples and a few places where we expected bodies but didn't find any. Carcasses of animals maybe, but no people.' She looked out the window. ‘Those were the worst. Thinking you were going to find them and then you didn't and you know they're still waiting for you. Even now, while we're sitting at this table in this window, they're still waiting for us.' She wasn't looking at anything now; her perspective had internalized. ‘Or people like us.'

‘But that's why you started the Agency, right?'

‘Different bodies but yeah, that's true.' She looked at him with a small smile.

‘Hey,' Gene laughed. ‘I actually
do
charge. By the minute.' He looked at his watch. ‘That'll be seventy-five cents, lady. Next!' He called out as though to a waiting patient but the host thought he was summoning the bill and hurried over to put it on the table.

Jayne tried to smother her laughter.

Gene took the bill. ‘I got it.'

Eric pulled out of the driveway of yet another body shop and nodded at the manager who was waiting to close the gate after the Suburban. Eric watched him in the rear-view mirror and said, ‘Someone's not too happy we held him back after class.'

Scott was flipping through pages in his notebook. ‘He was nervous, wasn't he?'

‘For a guy whose business is supposed to be on the up-and-up.' Eric was driving with some haste along the broad boulevards in Van Nuys.

Now Scott was almost talking to himself. ‘How could he flatly deny they've ever had a vehicle in there from Georgia?'

Eric pulled in to park next to a Tommy's Burger stand. He looked at Scott meaningfully.

Scott was still musing. ‘Wouldn't you expect someone to say, “I don't remember; let me check my files”?'

Eric kept his eyes on his partner while lowering the windows until the car filled with the scent of grilling food. Scott finally appeared to get the message because he threw his notebook on the dash and got out of the vehicle. Within two minutes, they were standing at the counter with food in front of them.

Before eating, Scott pulled out his cell phone but didn't dial.

Eric chewed some of his chilli burger. ‘Why don't you just call her?'

‘What? Who?'

‘You don't look innocent, Scott. You can't
do
innocent.'

Scott took a deep breath, stretched his arms over his head, arched his back, twisted his torso, and exhaled.

Eric looked at him. ‘I'm trying to eat here and you're acting like it's the warm up for the long jump.'

Scott re-holstered his phone and took a deliberately large bite of his meal.

Eric wasn't finished. ‘What are you worried about – with Jayne, I mean?'

Scott shrugged, then swallowed. ‘I'm not worried. I just don't want to start something while we're working together.'

‘That didn't stop you with Mindy.'

‘Yeah and look how that turned out.'

‘And Jayne isn't married to the Bureau anyway, so I don't buy that excuse on any level. Nor does it explain what you've been doing for the past five years.' Eric took the time to chew. ‘You want me to find out if she's dating someone? I'll ask her. I'll ask Steelie.'

Scott was fierce: ‘Don't.'

‘Jesus. I won't but Jayne's not . . .'

Scott looked at him. ‘Not what? My type? I know that already.'

‘No, that's not what I'm getting at. I'm saying I don't think she's necessarily easy to read.'

‘I know.' Scott took a bite of food and then talked through the mouthful. ‘I can't believe I'm taking advice from a guy who was married and divorced before he was thirty.'

‘I just got married too young. Now, in your case, that
definitely
won't be an issue.'

Jayne turned on her phone as she and Gene strolled slowly back to her truck in the manner of people who'd eaten well and to satisfaction. She looked at the phone even though it hadn't chirped to signify new voicemail. She wasn't sure why she imagined she would have missed a call from Scott. He was on her mind as she thought about how soon they might have an evening like this. They'd had dinner together on the phone often enough. Scott eating at his desk in Atlanta, having stayed late on a case, while Jayne was at home, feeling giddy whenever his calls came after she'd showered so she'd be at her table in just a nightshirt. He'd only ever asked her once what she was wearing but it wasn't one of those nights and she was too honest for her own good, thereby missing, she had always felt, the chance to go down a different path with him. But she'd never forgotten that he'd asked.

Gene broke into her silence as they got into the truck. ‘If you're not too tired, I wouldn't mind seeing this place of yours.'

Her mind hadn't shifted gears yet. ‘My apartment?'

‘Sure . . . that too.'

‘Oh!'

He laughed and Jayne pulled out from the curb, telling herself to pay attention. ‘Sorry, I—'

‘Don't apologize. Seriously, I wouldn't mind seeing your office
and
your apartment. I'd like to see these places that are giving you so much therapy.'

Jayne suddenly turned right on Main Street. ‘All right,' she said brightly. ‘We'll swing by the office, then have coffee on my deck.'

Gene nodded and settled back on the seat, his elbow resting on the open windowsill, the night air brushing his hair off his forehead.

They passed Olvera Street, catching snippets of mariachi music and laughter from around the massive magnolia tree that marked the entrance to the enchantingly historic, if touristy, birthplace of LA. Jayne made the dog-leg turn to follow Hill Street through Chinatown, hitting every green light and bypassing the busses disgorging passengers in front of the alleys full of market stalls selling everything from suitcases to cell phone covers under a canopy of paper-mâché lanterns. She accelerated on to the 110 Freeway near Dodger Stadium and the LA Police Academy and crested the hill, passing through the short tunnels to emerge with a view of the transmission tower lights twinkling atop the San Gabriel Mountains on the other side of the valley.

She exited at Figueroa, navigated to San Fernando Road and drove fast along the four lanes, past the small trailer park, the old baseball diamond, and the tire repair shop. On the other side of the road, the rail lines and the LA River paralleled her route. The trough cut by the river made the air even cooler here. Eventually, she slowed to turn into the Agency parking lot. The light above the front door was on and the security lights on the corner of the building were illuminating the front and side.

‘So, this is it?' Gene asked, getting out of the truck and stretching his long legs.

Jayne unlocked the front door and entered to disable the alarm using the security code on the nearby panel. She turned on the lights as she let him in. He looked around appreciatively.

‘Nice.' He walked over to the reception counter and picked up one of the Agency brochures. ‘Can I have one of these?'

‘Sure. Wanna see the rest of it?' She went into the next room and turned on the desk lamp. ‘This is my office. I do the interviews with families and friends of the mispers in here.'

‘Thus the sofas and tissues.'

‘Are you being flippant?'

‘That came out wrong. You do the interviews and then, what, you do the profile off of them?'

‘In part, and in part off any documentation we can get our hands on.'

Jayne walked down the hall, then realized Gene hadn't followed her. She turned back to find him. He was looking at the filing cabinets behind her desk.

‘Are these all your cases?'

‘Yes.'

‘How many do you have?'

‘About a hundred.'

‘And how many have you matched up to bodies?'

‘Seven so far.'

‘Not very many.'

‘Yeah, but if one of those seven was, say, your father, would that matter? Those seven count for a lot.'

‘True. Sorry, I keep applying the business models we use at my company and I guess they don't really apply. So where do you keep the closed files?'

She pointed at the top drawer of one of the cabinets and then watched as Gene walked over as though to open it.