by Davis Bunn
“Not yet, but soon.” He rose to his feet, hugged them both, then spotted Veronica through the front portal. “Excuse me a minute.”
Veronica slipped past the guard and entered the waiting area. “Sorry, sorry.”
“I was getting worried.”
“Loading the software and synching five Bluetooth devices to my laptop took forever. Hi, Nicole. Amber, that’s such a lovely dress; don’t wipe your nose with your sleeve.” Veronica seated herself on Ricki’s other side and opened a purse the size of a carry-on. “Here. Never go anywhere without Kleenex. That’s my motto.”
Amber blew her nose. “How can you be so happy?”
“It’s nerves. Sort of.” Veronica glanced around. “I never thought I’d look forward to walking back in here.”
Nicole asked, “You were arrested?”
“Bunch of times. Hi, Nicole, dear.”
“That’s for another day,” Daniel said. “Did you bring them?”
“You bet. And they’re all working perfectly. We’re ready to rock and roll.” Another dive into her purse brought out five spectacles cases. She opened them, inspected the contents, then handed one to Amber, Nicole, Ricki, Chloe, and finally Daniel. “Try them on.”
The lids were embossed with the word CANON. Veronica said, “My tech guy has a wicked sense of humor.”
Amber frowned at the contents. “I don’t get it.”
Nicole spelled the name. “Canon makes cameras. Veronica’s guy makes secret weapons shaped like spectacles. I think it’s cool.”
Veronica said, “You and my guy would get along just fine.”
Amber said, “I’m not talking about the name.” She pulled out a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles with octagonal lenses. “I don’t need glasses.”
“You do today,” Daniel said. He took them from her and pointed to a little aperture above the right corner. “Inside there is a tiny little camera. And here on the left side is a miniature microphone.”
“Be a good girl and don’t drop them,” Veronica said. “They cost four thousand dollars a pop.”
Amber slipped them on. “They’re heavy.”
“They’re as light as he can make them,” Veronica replied. “Think you can manage?”
“I guess.” She mashed them tight to her nose. “Mom is going to freak.”
Daniel handed her a note he had prepared while the girls had been inside choosing clothes. “As soon as you can, give her this. It will explain things.”
Nicole said, “Don’t tell her what we’re doing when anybody else might hear.”
“Well, duh.”
Nicole’s glasses were a rich brown with white streaks in the lens frames. She settled them in place and asked, “How do I look?”
“Like an incredibly intelligent and perceptive and beautiful young woman,” Daniel said. “Who is great to be around.”
Amber pointed to Veronica. “How come she doesn’t have any?”
“I’m going to be in the hallway outside the courtroom,” Veronica said. “Recording and monitoring and generally staying out of trouble.”
Nicole said, “It’s okay to be afraid.”
“I’m not scared,” Amber snapped. “I’m mad.”
“Angry is good,” Daniel said. “But for your mom you need to be the little girl she wants to come home to. Think you can do that?”
Amber’s chin trembled, but not for very long. “Piece of cake. Did I say that right?”
Daniel gave her a one-armed hug, then spotted the attorney coming through the main doors. “Game faces, everyone. It’s showtime.”
* * *
The smell took Daniel straight back.
Jails all around the globe carried a certain stench, one that no amount of disinfectant could ever erase. The result of hopelessness and tension and rage and fear and too many bodies in too small a space, all cooked in a series of tight little cages. Back in the bad old days, in those horrid hours between regaining consciousness and getting his release, Daniel had wondered if the guards even noticed the smell anymore. Or if that was part of why they all wore the same blank expression and hid behind those deeply uncaring eyes. So they wouldn’t have to endure the smell.
When the first wave of stench reached her, Nicole was stopped cold. Daniel said, “You can wait out front.”
She jammed her glasses up tight. “Not on your life.”
Daniel had worn spy spectacles on any number of televised investigations. Even now, four years since his last assignment, he found himself resuming his old role. The glasses gave him a sort of dual vision, as if they granted him a partial separation from reality. He saw the scene as the audience might.
He held back as Sol Feinnes led Amber toward the guard on reception duty. Amber’s walk was uncertain, like she was trying to keep her footing in rough seas. Sol steadied her with a hand on her shoulder.
Daniel focused on Amber and watched her jerk in shock at the loud buzzer alarm. The electronic door leading to the women’s wing slid open, and Sol led her inside. Daniel touched Nicole’s arm and said, “Only two at a time.”
Nicole asked, “Why are you standing that way?”
He gave their names to the guard, lifted the hanger holding Stella’s courtroom clothes, and explained that they were serving as Amber’s surrogate family. Once the guard buzzed them through, Daniel replied, “You need to frame your actions for the hidden camera. Focus on what you think the audience would find most interesting. Hold your position long enough for the image to become clearly imprinted. Move your head as slowly as possible. Keep your head steady when you walk.”
Nicole thought on that. “Why didn’t you tell Amber?”
“Because she doesn’t need to know. All we need from Amber’s viewpoint is one close-up shot of Stella. The rest is up to us.”
As she followed him and the guard down the hall, she whispered, “What’s the matter?”
Daniel shook his head. The answer was, the farther he moved along the windowless corridor, the angrier he became. He had not known such rage in, well, forever. But to have a good woman locked up in here because other people thought she made a perfect fall guy left him so furious he was shaking.
Nicole did not speak again until they were standing outside the visitation room. Because Stella’s attorney was present, they were given access to a small private chamber off the main visitors’ area. Their escort gave Daniel a careful inspection but did not comment. No doubt rage was a familiar part of his daily life. He unlocked the steel door and pulled it open. “Knock when you’re done.”
Stella was seated at the metal table, her arms wrapped around her child. Sol was seated on a plastic stool anchored to the concrete floor across from them. Daniel drew Nicole into the corner, as far from the table as possible.
Sol said, “We only have a few minutes.”
Stella nodded and loosened her hold on Amber. She stroked the child’s face. “Are you okay?”
She sniffed, nodded, and streaked the tears on her face. “Daniel’s taking care of me.”
Stella glanced over. “Thank you.”
“We’re here for you both,” Daniel said. The only reason he managed to keep his voice steady was that he felt Nicole slip her hand into his. “For as long as it takes.”
CHAPTER 37
Stella was seventh in the line of jailhouse inmates waiting for their turn in court. One of the cons farther down the line cursed her fate, the judge, her rotten lawyer, the world in general, until finally the guard offered to tell the court she was indisposed and hold her over for another day. Two held their heads and groaned softly. One man asked the next in line if he remembered what they had done to wind up here. The second man shook his head and moaned at the pain caused by his motion. The other men and women were mostly silent.
When you need them most, men leave.
The words formed a motto that had been driven deep into Stella’s psyche. They rattled around her exhausted brain as she waited her turn before the judge. One by one, names were called,
and they were drawn from their respective cages, walked down a corridor, and pointed onto a bench. Down and to her right was a door leading to the courtroom. Three guards patrolled the hall and maintained absolute silence.
When you need them most, men leave.
When her name was called, Stella rose and followed the guard into the courtroom.
Daniel was seated in the third row behind the prosecutor’s table. Amber was seated to his left. Her daughter lifted one hand and offered a tiny wave as Stella was led to her seat at the defense table. Stella then spotted Nicole seated in the corner closest to the door she had just come through. Nicole’s attention remained intently focused on the lawyers. Sol was standing in the space between the prosecutor and defense tables. He was accompanied by his associate, Megan Pierce. They talked intently with the two attorneys from the other table. Sol and Megan both looked very grim, like they were unable to accept what they were hearing.
The judge rapped her gavel. “Anytime, ladies and gentlemen. We’ve got a full docket today.”
“Sorry, your honor.” Sol and Megan returned to their positions, and the arraignment began.
Stella tried very hard to focus on what was going on. Her life and her freedom and her daughter’s future all hung in the balance. But time and again, she found herself caught by the clear and simple fact that . . .
She was wrong about Daniel.
Sol began a lengthy argument with the prosecutor over what it would take to have Stella released until her trial date. The DA wanted her denied bail and held over for trial. Perry Sanchez was a singularly unattractive man with an angry, aggressive air and a voice that reminded Stella of a dentist’s drill. Sanchez claimed Stella was in possession of six and a half million dollars of the city’s money. Which meant she was a terrible flight risk. Sol angrily replied that Stella was innocent until proven guilty, had never been arrested, all evidence was circumstantial, and . . .
At that point, the judge rapped her gavel and set bail at one million dollars.
Stella would have laughed out loud. The sum was so far beyond her means, they might as well have asked for the moon.
Which was when Daniel stepped forward and said he had arranged a lien on his home and would post a bond for Stella’s release.
She stared at this man, a stranger she had done her best to push away, and felt all her defenses fade like a dawn mist burned off the Pacific.
* * *
Over the next few days, Stella felt as though she was watching her life’s storm from the safety of a bunker. People arrived in a steady stream. Ricki came morning and night, bringing food, checking on Amber, passing along best wishes and support from any number of people, filling her home with food and chatter. Chloe and Nicole became firmly attached to Amber’s orbit.
Daniel was a part of their world now. Stella had no idea how she felt about that. She had very little sense of feeling anything at all. The prospect of being convicted in a court of law and being wrenched from her little girl was a constant, living nightmare. And everybody understood. And everybody cared. And everybody helped her cope. Amber, Ricki, Travis, Chloe, Nicole . . .
Daniel.
He came by every day. Sometimes twice. Never staying very long. Never imposing himself. He would refuse her offer of coffee, sit wherever she directed him, and explain what was happening next. Stella listened carefully, but the words and plans fell on her like rain. Then he left, and afterward all she could remember was his look. His strength. And the lie he made of her years-long motto. Because one thing became increasingly certain as the days passed. This was one man who had no intention of leaving. Unless she made him.
Amber went through her own transition. Gone was the elfin sprite, the sense of boundless joy. Gone also the petulant child. Instead, Amber became quiet and soft-spoken and gentle in the way she treated her mother. As though she was taking instructions from the people who surrounded them both.
Early on Wednesday, a week after her arraignment, she prepared for a trip to Los Angeles. Stella had heard the reasons any number of times, and the steps that needed to be followed while they were down there. She knew the journey was important. She knew it had to happen now. But, if asked, she could have given none of the reasons. Only that her best chance of remaining free depended upon this trip.
She dressed in one of her better pantsuits, a dark gray pinstripe with a pale, chalk-blue stripe and matching blouse, and alligator pumps she had bought for herself on a distant birthday. Her only pieces of jewelry were matching collar and lapel pins. Stella caught herself in the act of fastening on the watch her ex had given her for their first anniversary. She took it off and put it back in her jewelry box. If she needed to know the time, she would ask.
She stopped by Amber’s room, only to find the door opened and one of her daughter’s best outfits laid out on the bed. Shoes and all. Stella stared at the clothes for a long moment, wondering when her daughter had decided to grow up.
When she came downstairs, Amber was seated in the living room playing an electronic game on the television. Which was new. Amber rarely paid e-games much attention. “Good morning, darling.”
“Hi, Mom.” She glanced over. “You look nice.”
“Thank you, dear. Do you want breakfast?”
“I ate already.” The television gave off a blast of noise, a buzzer sounded, and Amber tossed the controls aside. “I’ll never get this right.”
Stella walked around the couch and stood in front of the television. She started to ask what was the matter, then realized how utterly lame that sounded, even in her head. “Sweetheart, would you rather stay here?”
“What?” Amber looked at her mother like she’d just grown a new head. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know, you look . . .”
“Scared.” She picked up the controls again and shifted over so she could watch the screen around her mother. “I am.”
“Turn that off, please. I’m trying to have a conversation.” When the room went silent, Stella said, “It’s perfectly natural to be frightened by—”
“I’m worried about Daniel.”
The words caught Stella so off-guard, she had the sudden image of some old cartoon where the characters struck each other and they vibrated from the blow. “Daniel . . .”
“He tries not to show it. But he’s scared too.” She picked up the controls again and traced little one-finger designs around the buttons. “Nicole says he’s been having bad dreams all week.”
Stella had no idea what to say. A thousand responses swept through her brain, but none of them sounded at all right. She did the only thing that seemed proper, which was to seat herself and take her daughter’s hand.
Only then did she realize Amber was trying hard not to cry.
“He’s doing so much. Nicole says he’s been working crazy hours, trying to put things together. But he’s scared too. So scared.” The words tumbled out on top of each other. “He hasn’t been back to Los Angeles since the bad times. He thought he’d never go back. And now he is going. Nicole tried to tell him to handle this on the phone. But Daniel won’t listen. He says it has to be done in person to have any chance of working. And he needs to make sure Chloe is safe.”
Stella nodded as though she understood a smidgen of what she was hearing. “Chloe . . .”
“Daniel won’t let Travis or Ricki go with them. He says it’s going to be hard enough for Chloe to get this right. They kind of agreed, but they argued with him anyway.” Amber swiped her face with the sleeve of her free arm. “Nicole says Daniel was a grouch all day yesterday after they fought. And he had the worst nightmares ever last night. She saw him working in the office after midnight. And this morning he went for a run before it was even light outside.”
The mantel clock read half past seven. “You’ve already talked to Nicole?”
Amber pointed to her phone on the sofa. “She texted me. Three times.”
Her daughter’s state forced Stella to choose her words very carefull
y. “I’m sure Daniel is doing what he thinks is best. But . . .”
Amber looked at her. “Promise you’ll be nice to him.”
“Darling, I try to be nice all the time—”
“You know what I mean. He likes you a lot, Mommy. And I like him. Really, really a lot.” The tears spilled. “He’s scared. But he’s doing all this for you. For Chloe too. But all this work he’s doing, it’s mostly for you.” The words became constricted now, by the fear and the sorrow and the tension in that young face. “So you need to be nice. Promise me, Mommy. It’s really, really, really important that you promise.”
* * *
Below Carpinteria, the coastal hills muscled in tightly to the shoreline. There was scarcely room for the highway and a thin strip of beachfront houses and trailer parks. Daniel had not spoken a word since leaving Miramar an hour and a half earlier. Everyone in the pickup had become infected by his tension. As they passed Mussel Shoals, a marine layer rose from the Pacific and blanketed the coastal route. The haze soon became so thick that all Stella could see were the taillights directly ahead of them. The light was diffused, striking from every direction. To Stella, it seemed like the fog was a perfect overlay to her state. Every option seemed wrapped in confusion.
They crawled at less than thirty miles an hour. Now and then a vague shadow roared past, unseen trucks barreling at absurd speeds. Daniel squinted through the windscreen and kept a fierce hold on the wheel. Moving forward, despite all his worries and uncertainties.
Stella breathed softly, in and out. She said, “Why don’t we take a break?”
Daniel nodded. “Stopping sounds like a good idea to me. Girls?”
Nicole was already busy on her phone. “There’s a Starbucks by the first Ventura exit. That’s . . . three miles ahead.”
By the time they resumed their journey south, the haze had cleared, and the freeway was moving. Stella had still not spoken. She could feel the words building up inside. But the will to release them, take the turning, make the step that led her into a new future . . .
It was so very, very hard.
* * *
She kept glancing over at Daniel as they left the freeway and headed into Universal City. It was almost as hard as what he was doing. For her.