Next: A Novel (31 page)

Alex fumbled in her pocket. “Get back,” she warned him.

“We’re not going to hurt you, Ms. Burnet,” the man said. He was a good head and a half taller than she, and big, muscular. Just as he reached for her, she got her finger on the button and sprayed pepper in his face.

“Shit! Goddamn it!” He threw his arm up to protect his eyes, and half turned away from her. She knew that was her one chance—she kicked up, fast and hard, hitting him in the throat with her high heel. He yelled in agony, and she fell backward on the sidewalk, unable to keep her balance.

She scrambled back to her feet immediately. The woman was getting to her feet, her blood pouring onto the sidewalk. She ignored Alex and went to comfort the big man, who was leaning against the ambulance, bent over, clutching his throat, moaning in pain.

Alex heard distant sirens—someone had called the police—and now the woman was helping the big man into the ambulance, putting him in the passenger seat. It was happening fast. Alex started to worry that these two would get away before the cops showed up. But there wasn’t much she could do. As the woman climbed into the ambulance she screamed at Alex, “We’ll arrest you yet!”

“You’ll what?” Alex said. The unreality of this whole incident was starting to hit her.“You’ll what?”

“We’ll be back, bitch!” the woman screamed, starting the engine. “You won’t get away!” The red flasher came on with the siren. She put the ambulance in gear.

“For what?” Alex yelled again. All she could think was that this entire business had been some dreadful mistake. But Vern Hugheswas her doctor. They had used her correct name. They had come for Jamie…

No. It was not a mistake.

“We’ll arrest you yet!”

What could that mean? She turned, and hurried back into the school. Her one thought now was Jamie.

It was snack time.The kids were all sitting at their tables, eating pieces of cut fruit. Some had yogurt. They were quite noisy. Miss Holloway gave her the paper the woman had brought. It appeared to be a Xerox of stationery from Alex’s law firm, signed by her. It wasn’t a note from the doctor’s office.

That meant that the woman in the blue suit was a cool operator. When caught, she instantly changed her story. Smiling, shaking hands with Alex. Smoothly finding an excuse for the two of them to walk back outside…Offering her the phone so that when she took it…

We don’t need the kid, she’ll do fine.

They had come to kidnap Jamie. But they were ready to kidnap her, instead. Why? Ransom? She had no money to speak of. Was it some lawsuit she was involved in? She’d had dangerous lawsuits in the past, but there wasn’t anything pending at the moment.

She’ll do fine.

Either her son or her.

Miss Holloway said, “Is there anything I should know? Or the school should know?”

“No,” Alex said. “But I’m going to take Jamie home.”

“They’ve almost finished their snack.”

Alex nodded to Jamie, waved for him to come over. He came reluctantly.

“What is it, Mom?” he said.

“We need to go.”

“I want to stay here.”

Alex sighed. Contrary as ever. “Jamie…” she began.

“I missed a lot ’cause I was sick. Ask Miss Holloway. And I didn’t get to see my friends. I want to stay. And we have hot dogs for lunch.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Go to your cubby and get your stuff. We have to leave.”

In front ofthe school, two police cars and four police officers were examining the pavement. One of them said, “Are you Ms. Burnet?”

“Yes, I am.”

“We have a report from a woman in the principal’s office who saw the whole thing,” the policeman said, pointing to a nearby window. “But there’s a lot of blood here, Ms. Burnet.”

“Yes, the woman hurt her nose when she fell.”

“Are you divorced, Ms. Burnet?”

“Yes, I am.”

“For how long?”

“Five years.”

“So it is not recent.”

“Not at all.”

“Your relations with your ex…”

“Very cordial.”

She talked to the police for a few minutes more, while Jamie waited impatiently. The police seemed to Alex to be oddly reluctant to become involved; they were detached, and seemed to feel they had come upon a private matter, like a domestic dispute.

“Are you filing a complaint?”

“I would,” Alex said, “but I have to take my son home now.”

“We can give you the paperwork to take home.”

“That will be fine,” she said.

One of the cops gave her a business card and said to call if there was anything further she needed. She said she would. Then she and Jamie started home.

Out on the street,the world around her suddenly seemed entirely different. Nothing could be more cheerfully bland than the sunlight of Beverly Hills. But now, Alex saw only menace.

She didn’t know where that menace was coming from, or why. She held Jamie’s hand. “Are wewalking home?” he said, sighing.

“Yes, we’re walking.” But even as he asked, she started to wonder. They lived only a few blocks from the school. But was it safe to go home? Would those people with the ambulance be waiting? Or would they hide themselves better the next time?

“It’s too far to walk.” Jamie trudged along. “And too hot.”

“We’re walking. And that’s all there is to it.” As they walked, she flipped open her cell and dialed the office. Her assistant, Amy, answered.

“Listen, I want you to check recent county filings. Find out if my name comes up as a defendant anywhere.”

“Is there something I need to know?” Amy asked, laughing. But it was a nervous laugh.

Wrongdoing by an attorney might land their assistants in jail. It had happened a couple of times recently.

“No,” Alex said. “But I think I have bounty hunters chasing me.”

“You jump bail anywhere?”

“No,” Alex said. “That’s the point. I don’t know what these people think they are doing.”

The assistant said she would check. Jamie, walking alongside Alex, said, “What’s a bowie hunter? Why is she chasing you, Mom?”

“I’m trying to find out, Jamie. I think it’s a mistake.”

“Were they trying tohurt you?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” There was no reason to make him worry.

The assistant called back.

“Okay, you do have a complaint, all right. In Superior Court, Ventura County.”

That was a good hour from Los Angeles, up past Oxnard. “What’s the complaint?”

“It was filed by BioGen Research Incorporated of Westview Village. I can’t read the complaint online. But you’re showing up as a failure to appear.”

“Appear when?”

“Yesterday.”

“Was I served?”

“Indicates you were.”

“I wasn’t,” Alex said.

“Shows you were.”

“So, is there a contempt citation? A warrant for my arrest?”

“Nothing’s showing. But the online lags up to a day, so there might be.”

Alex flipped the phone shut.

Jamie said, “Are you going to be arrested?”

“No, honey. I’m not.”

“Then can I go back to school after lunch?”

“We’ll see.”

Her apartment building,on the north side of Roxbury Park, looked quiet in the midday sun. Alex stood on the other side of the park and watched for a while.

“Why are we waiting?” Jamie said.

“Just for a minute.”

“It’s been a minute already.”

“No, it hasn’t.”

She was watching the man in coveralls, going around the side of the house. He looked like the meter reader for the utility company. Except that he was big, with a bad wig and a trimmed black goatee that she had seen somewhere before. And the meter readers never came to the front. They always entered from the back alley.

She was thinking that if this guy was a bounty hunter, he had the right to enter her property without warning and without a warrant. He could break down the door, if he wanted to. He had the right to search her apartment, to go through her things, to take her computer and inspect the hard drive. He could do whatever he wanted to do to apprehend a fugitive. But she wasn’t a—

“Can we go in, Mom?” Jamie whined. “Please?”

Her son was right about one thing. They couldn’t just stand there. There was a sandbox in the middle of the park, several kids, maids, and mothers sitting around.

“Let’s go play in the sandbox.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Yes.”

“It’s for babies.”

“Just for a while, James.”

He stamped his foot, and sat down on the edge of the sandbox. He kicked sand irritably while Alex dialed her assistant.

“Amy, I am wondering about BioGen, the company that bought my father’s cell line. We don’t have any motions pending, do we?”

“No. California Supreme Court is a year from now.”

So what’s going on?she wondered. What kind of suit was BioGen bringing now? “Call the judge’s clerk up in Ventura. Find out what this is about.”

“Okay.”

“Have we heard from my father?”

“Not for a while.”

“Okay.” It actually wasn’t okay, because she was now having the strong feeling that all this had to do with her father. Or at least with her father’s cells. The bounty hunters had brought an ambulance—with a doctor in the back—because they were going to take a sample, or do some surgical procedure. Long needles. She’d seen sunlight glint on long needles wrapped in plastic, as the doctor at the back of the ambulance shuffled things about.

Then it hit her:They wanted to take their cells .

They wanted cells from her, or from her son. She couldn’t imagine why. But they clearly felt entitled to take them. Should she call the police? Not yet, she decided. If there were a warrant for her failure to appear, they’d simply take her into custody. And then what would she do about Jamie? She shook her head.

Right now, she needed time to figure out what was going on. Time to get everything straightened out. What was she supposed to do? She wanted to call her father, but he hadn’t been answering for days. If these guys knew where she lived, they would know what kind of car she had, and—

“Amy,” she said, “how’d you like to drive my car for a couple of days?”

“The BMW? Sure. But—”

“And I’ll drive yours,” Alex said. “But you need to bring it over to me. Stop that, Jamie. Stop kicking sand.”

“Are you sure? It’s a Toyota with a bunch of dents.”

“Actually, that sounds perfect. Come to the southwest side of Roxbury Park, and pull over in front of a white Spanish apartment building with wrought-iron gates in front.”

Alex was unpreparedby temperament and training for the situation in which she now found herself. All her life had been spent in the sunlight. She obeyed the rules. She was an officer of the court. She played the game. She didn’t run yellow lights; she didn’t park in the red; she didn’t cheat on her taxes. At the firm, she was regarded as by-the-book, stodgy. She told clients,

“Rules are made to be followed, not twisted.” And she meant it.

Five years earlier, when she discovered her husband was screwing around on her, she threw him out within an hour of learning the truth. She packed his bag and put it outside the door, and had the locks changed. When he came back from his “fishing trip,” she spoke through the door and told him to get lost. Matt was actually screwing one of her best friends—that was Matt’s way—

and she never again spoke to that woman.

Of course, Jamie had to see his father, and she made sure that happened. She delivered her son to Matt at the appointed time, on the dot. Not that he ever returned her son on time. But it was Alex’s view that the world stabilized one person at a time. If she did her part, she felt eventually others might do theirs.

At work she was called idealistic, impractical, unrealistic. She responded that in lawyer-speak,realistic was another word fordishonest. She stuck to her guns.

But it was true that sometimes she felt she limited herself to the kinds of cases that did not challenge her illusions. The head of the firm, Robert A. Koch, had said as much. “You’re like a conscientious objector, Alex. You let other people do the fighting. But sometimes we have to fight. Sometimes, we can’t avoid conflict.”

Koch was an ex-Marine, like her father. Same kind of rough-and-tumble talk. Proud of it. She’d always shrugged it off. Now she wasn’t shrugging anything off. She didn’t know what was going on, but she felt pretty sure she couldn’t just talk her way out of it.

She was also sure nobody was going to stick a needle into her, or her son. To prevent that, she would do whatever had to be done.

Whateverhad to be done.

She replayed in her mind the incident at the school. She hadn’t had a gun. She didn’t own a gun.

But she wished she had had one. She thought,If they were trying to do something to my son, could I have killed them?

And she thought,Yes. I could have killed them .

And she knew it was true.

A whiteToyota Highlander with a battered front bumper pulled up. She saw Amy sitting in the car. Alex said, “Jamie? Let’s go.”

“Finally!”

He started toward their apartment, but she steered him in another direction.

“Where’re we going?”

“We’re taking a little trip,” she said.

“Where?” He was suspicious. “I don’t want to take a trip.”

Without hesitation, she said, “I’ll buy you a PSP.” She had steadfastly refused for a year to buy him one of those electronic game things. But now she was just saying whatever came to mind.

“For real? Hey, thanks!” More frowns. “But which games? I want Tony Hawk Three, and I want Shrek—”

“Whatever you want,” she said. “Let’s just get in the car. We’re going to drive Amy back to work.”

“And then? Where are we going then?”

“Legoland,” she said.

The first thing that came into her mind.

Driving backto the office, Amy said, “I brought your father’s package. I thought you might want it.”

“What package?’

“It came to the office last week. You never opened it. You were at trial with the Mick Crowley rape case. You remember, that political reporter who likes little boys.”

It was a small FedEx box. Alex tore it open, dumped the contents on her lap.

A cheap cellular phone, the kind you bought and put a card in.