by Jenna Rae
Lola turned, a damp dishtowel in her hands, and peered into Del’s eyes. “You okay?”
Del gave a half smile. She must have shown more of her feelings than she’d meant to. Once again, she was aware of how little clarity and focus she was able to maintain around Lola. “Just tired, I guess.”
Lola immediately offered tea, a bed, a shower. Del declined all three, explaining that she wanted to be downstairs in case anything came up. Lola nodded in apparent relief, and Del realized that Lola was planning to sleep in the guest room. She’d bet good money that Lola had showered in the second bathroom rather than her own. She couldn’t blame her. As Lola headed upstairs, calling her thanks and good nights, Del went around the house, checking the windows and doors. She went upstairs while Lola was brushing her teeth (in, Del noted, the second bathroom) and did the same check up there. The alarm was on, but it was better to be sure.
Del had planned to catch up on her sleep, but she was still too keyed up. She wandered through the circle of rooms on the lower level, peering out uselessly at the dark, and found herself back in the living room, facing one of the bookshelves. Turning on a lamp, she scanned the titles in the one near the window. Lots of different authors, many she’d heard of, some she hadn’t. Some good contemporary novels, some science fiction, several classics, a few biographies and histories, lots of women, several well-known lesbian writers, a few anthologies of poetry. Del assessed people by their books or the lack thereof. By this standard, Lola was one of the coolest people Del had ever snooped on. The other bookcase was very similar, but for one thing. Two hardbound and two paperback copies of Lola’s novel were tucked into the bottom shelf. She’d used a pen name, but Del recognized the title and snagged one of the paperbacks. Would Lola mind her reading this? Well, she decided, flopping onto the couch, if she did, she shouldn’t have put it there. Besides, maybe something in here is what turned the bad guy on. This is research. She stretched out her legs and settled down to read.
Chapter Sixteen
The next morning, Lola was halfway down the stairs before she remembered that Del was there, and she stopped, taking in the sight of Del’s long legs sprawled over the ottoman. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was soft, and her arm was stretched out with her hand palm up, fingers curled. Lola held her breath. Del seemed so vulnerable, asleep. She looked like an exhausted puppy, the way her limbs were flung out so carelessly. The blanket Lola had given her lay in a puddle on the floor. Del’s hair was tousled, her shirt rumpled. The hard planes of her face were softened now and pink with the warmth of sleep.
Orrin had looked many years older asleep than awake. Animated, his face had been handsome, even as he’d gotten older. But relaxed, face slack, he’d looked weak and vulnerable, something she suspected he’d known and hated. It had been very confusing, pitying the powerful man who ruled her life. She’d hated herself for being so weak and helpless that she could be bullied by a failing old man.
Del shifted her leg, and Lola’s thoughts of the past receded. Del’s sleeping form inspired a sharp and aching tenderness in Lola that she could hardly process. She wanted to wrap Del in a soft, warm blanket and tell her that everything would be all right, though she knew Del would hate being babied. She bristled the way Donny—one of Lola’s long-ago babysitting charges—often had as a toddler. He’d only wanted to be cuddled when it was his idea. Del was like that, maybe. She’d get edgy at the first sign of unwanted affection, but she’d need it desperately when it was on her terms. This was not a good thing, Lola reminded herself.
Del frowned in her sleep, and Lola watched her leg twitch again. What was she dreaming about? What was happening in that head of hers? Was she being chased by a bogeyman? Was she climbing a mountain? Dancing with some phantom lover—maybe that awful woman who hurt her so badly? How anyone could worm her way into Del’s tender heart and then break it was beyond her. Del was special. Anyone could see that. Whatever agenda the woman might have had going in, hadn’t she been tempted to abandon it and just love Del? How could she have walked away from such an amazing woman? If she were mine, Lola thought, I’d cherish her. I’d let her know how much I treasured her, every minute of every day.
“But she isn’t yours,” Orrin reminded her, his voice surprisingly low.
Going soft, Orrin? Maybe death had tamed the demons that had raged in him. Maybe death had set him free. She rolled her eyes at her fanciful thoughts. He doesn’t exist anymore except in your head, remember?
Del gave a small sigh, her lips parting for just a moment, and Lola wondered what it would be like to just once taste those soft lips. They were Del’s most feminine feature, pink and full and lush. She didn’t seem to wear lipstick or anything. She didn’t need to. To adorn them would have been sacrilege. To kiss them, heaven. Lola realized that she was actually clasping her hands at her breast, like some winsome heroine in a nineteenth-century romance. She gave a small laugh and forced her hands to her sides.
She tiptoed down the rest of the stairs, trying not to make any noise. As she crept past on her way to the kitchen, she noticed a book on the floor next to Del’s blanket. That’s right, she remembered with delight, she’s a reader. She snuck closer, curious to see what book Del had chosen. Her breath caught sharply. My book?
She was horrified. She had never imagined anyone she knew reading that book. She had never imagined having to look someone in the eye, knowing that they had read her words. The story was fictional, but Lola had flayed open her heart during the process of writing it. She felt violated. She knew that this feeling was absurd. She knew that even as she felt it, but it was still true. She felt humiliated.
When she reopened her eyes, she saw Del looking back at her. At least Del had the decency to flush and look away.
“Good morning.”
Lola nodded, unable to speak.
Del gestured at the book. “Hope it’s okay I grabbed this. Couldn’t sleep.” She yawned hugely and stretched.
Lola nodded again and headed to the coffeemaker. That’s it? She grabbed the coffee, slammed the fridge closed, and huffed. That’s all you have to say? I poured my heart out in that book, and all you have to say is that you couldn’t sleep? She quivered with outrage.
Del heard Lola banging around and smiled. Good, get mad. I’d like to see that. She felt as though she’d somehow violated Lola’s privacy, but she was glad she’d stayed up to read the whole book. It was about a woman who stays married to a man out of a sense of duty and only realizes the futility of this at the very end of her life. The story was clearly fictional, but the uncertainty and guilt and confusion that fueled it were just as clearly not. It had been hard to read, sometimes. The sense of loss, of waste and frustration and regret, all felt painfully personal. She wished she could think of a way to broach the subject without hurting or embarrassing Lola. She decided instead to lie. Cop’s habit, she told herself. I’ve already done enough damage.
Strolling into the kitchen, where Lola was abusing some pancake batter with a wooden spoon, Del plunked into a chair.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I didn’t make it too far. Too tired, after all, I guess.” She widened her eyes in a show of innocence and watched Lola’s reaction.
“Really?” Lola’s eyes searched Del’s face. “Well, that’s okay. It’s not very good. I’ll find you something better to read tonight.”
“Hmm.” Yawning and stretching, Del jumped up. “Gotta go.” She headed for the front door and punched in the alarm code.
“Don’t you want breakfast?” Lola still held the mixing bowl in her hand.
“Can’t. Gotta shower and get to work. I’ve gotta protect a friend.”
Lola smiled at her, and Del felt warmed. Whatever damage her temper and snooping had done, Lola’s good nature had overcome her hurt feelings.
“See you tonight, maybe around seven again.”
Lola nodded and waved the wooden spoon at her, and Del laughed, sprinting across the street to her own house.
Lola headed back to the kitchen. She knew that Del had probably lied about not reading the book, but she appreciated being able to save face. She decided to make Del something special for dinner and pulled out a cookbook. Del had done so much for her, and she didn’t know how else to thank her. Maybe, Lola thought, as she flipped through the pages, I’ll eat with her. Maybe she won’t mind.
She chose lasagna, since Del had liked the pasta, and started a shopping list. She’d always wanted to learn how to make lasagna, but Orrin disliked different kinds of foods touching each other. Lola decided to make cookies too. That way, when Del was reading herself to sleep, she could munch on a snack. She looked up that recipe too, and added to her shopping list. She thought that maybe she’d wait to shower until after she’d finished cooking. That way she’d smell nice when Del got home.
“You’re like a puppy,” she told herself aloud, “she’s nice to you for five minutes, and you chase after her, wagging your tail.”
Chapter Seventeen
Del spent most of the day trolling through various databases, trying to find something that would help her narrow the search. She’d finally gotten the hate mail from the publisher, and her captain agreed to give her two guys to sort through it. There were three huge bags of it, and the captain raised his eyebrows. Three guys. Del would go over the ones they sorted into the “Second Look” category. She wished she could do it all herself, but there was just too much.
The rage in some of the letters seemed to burn her fingers when she held them. The writers all had three things in common: they wrote anonymously, they loved Jesus, and they wanted to kill “Lisa Miller.” She finished one particularly vitriolic missive and had to go to the bathroom to wash her face and hands. She had to get the sick off of her body, if not her mind.
Finally, late in the afternoon, she decided to check in with a friend in the computer crimes division. Well, she hoped he was still her friend. After last year, she wasn’t sure she had any left in the department. But Anton Jones seemed glad to see her. He was tucked into a tiny cubbyhole, off by himself, and Del felt like she was visiting the department’s resident wizard. His wall was completely covered with comics and math formulae and Hubble images. His lanky frame was folded into an undersized chair, and Jones nudged it back to make room for her.
After a minute of small talk, she filled him in on things.
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, God.”
“What?”
“People are so naïve.” He picked up a pen and started rolling it in his long fingers. “If I stood here and told you I was a sixteen-year-old blond girl, you’d know I was lying. But I say it online, and it’s true.” He tossed the pen at her. “As far as you know.”
“Yeah, I know. But did he pick her, you think, or was it just a random thing?” She tossed the pen back.
Anton shrugged. “Need more data.” He tossed the pen at her again.
“Is there any way to track him down? I mean, could you look at her computer and tell where he e-mailed her from?” She tossed the pen onto the desk.
“Would you do it from your computer at home, if you were a dark hat?”
Del shook her head.
“Odds are, he went to a library or a café, used cash or a stolen card.” He eyed her. “The vic is a friend?”
Del nodded, her face bland, and he laughed.
“Maybe more than a friend?”
Del shook her head. “My neighbor. And I want this guy out of her life. I think he’s escalating fast. He—I think it was him, anyway—broke in and cut her pets open like fucking baked potatoes, left ’em for her to find. She’s freaked. And I can’t seem to make any headway.”
Anton nodded, making a face. “Tell you what, I’ll look into it. Gimme your friend’s info, get her to send me screen shots if she can, and I’ll see what I can do. I may need to see her actual computer, though.”
“I really appreciate this, Jones. I want this asshole.”
“You owe me, just remember that.” He grinned at her, rubbing his fingers together.
She pretended to fish in her pockets and then shrugged.
“I will.” She straightened up and looked into his eyes. “Thanks. I mean it.”
He called after her as she walked out, “Oh, and Mason? Say hi to your ‘friend’ for me.” He brayed with laughter.
Del rolled her eyes, but she was glad that at least one other person—and one of the smartest guys she knew—was looking for the bad guy. She sat for a moment trying to choose her next move. She could re-interview the neighbors again, go to the coffee shop and the drugstore again. Harass the forensics team again. Then an idea struck her.
“Hey,” she called Jones on the crackling phone at her desk. “What about a decoy?”
She heard him scratching his cheek before he answered. “Yeah, why not? Try to duplicate her wording as much as possible. You have a laptop? Use that and send it to me. I’ll reroute it for you. Don’t use a department machine.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll get back to you with whatever.”
He was already gone. Del snagged her jacket and helmet, headed home to grab her laptop and overnight bag, and went to Lola’s. She realized that she was humming as she rapped on the door and reminded herself that this was not a social call but an emergency intervention. It didn’t help. She was still humming.
“Hi, Del.” Lola opened the door, damp from the shower again, and Del was distracted by her light cotton pajamas. Her damp hair had made it nearly see-through at the shoulders, and Del let go a nervous laugh.
“Turning in early?” Her voice was hoarse. She felt like an awkward teenager!
“No.” Lola smiled. “I decided to be comfortable and lazy.”
“Good for you.” Del thought Lola should wear pajamas every minute of every day, but she refrained from saying so.
She explained what she wanted to do, and Lola listened carefully and nodded, then asked if she wanted to eat dinner first.
“Later.”
Lola nodded. “Okay.”
Del felt a flash of irritation at Lola’s obedient response.
She followed Lola to her office. Focus, she told herself, forcing her eyes away from the sight of Lola trotting up the stairs in front of her. Tiny waist, she’d noticed that before. Long legs. Amazing ass—round and plump and perfect. That’s why I’m not thinking clearly. I’ve gotta stop thinking about her like she’s mine. She’s not, and she never will be. She was glad to focus on their task as they entered the office, a bright, sunny room with yellow walls and a huge, L-shaped desk.
They sat next to each other, and Lola warmed up her desktop while Del turned on her laptop.
“So, let’s pull up the chat history, okay?”
Lola was blushing. “I know you have to see this, but it’s a little weird, you know?”
“Don’t think about that. We’re trying to set a trap, that’s all. I need to know what it was about you that drew him.”
She saw Lola’s mouth tighten and wished she’d found a better way to say that.
“Okay.” Lola tapped on the keyboard.
Old computer, thought Del. Half-million dollar house, and she writes on a piece of ten-year-old crap? She remembered the ancient Buick. She’d been struck the first day by how incongruous the car had looked pulling into the garage of the expensive house.
Del leaned over to look at the screen.
“Single? Lesbian? Like to take long walks? Love coffee, books, & movies?
“Me: 40s, smart, fun, active, honest. Drug & Drama free. No smkg.
“You: 30-50, see above.
“I’m looking for a friend first, maybe more if it works out.
“No pressure, just meet at a coffee shop. Live in the city? Email me!!!”
“Okay.” Del felt rather than saw Lola’s discomfort. “Well, I can see why you responded. She seems very normal.” He, she thought, remembering Jones’s words. “And you emailed her?” Him.
Lola nodded and opened it up.
“Hi. I’m n
ew to the area and am looking for friends.
Maybe more, later. I’ve never done this before and am a bit shy.
My name is Lola. I live in the Eureka Valley neighborhood.
I am a freelance editor and love coffee, books and movies.”
“And what did you get back?”
“Hi, Lola. Pretty name. I’ve never done this before either.
It’s weird, isn’t it? I’m new to the city too,
and this holiday weekend is making me lonely.
I’d love to meet you, say at The Café?
Tomorrow night at six?
If we enjoy each other’s company, great.
If not, no big deal. But I’d love to hear all
about your favorite books. I work for a publisher.
Oh, my name is Joan. See you tomorrow?”
“No red flags there, either,” Del noted, and Lola pulled up her response.
“Joan,
Sounds good. See you tomorrow.
Lola”
“After I sent that,” Lola confessed, “I almost sent another one canceling. I still can’t believe I went to meet a stranger like that!”
“Hey.” Del shook her head. “There’s nothing wrong with reaching out to people. It should have been fine. You should have gone to the coffee shop and met some nice woman and hit it off and made a new friend. Or girlfriend, or whatever.” She paused, considering. “I need to try and figure out what about your response got her—his—attention. Was it just that you answered? The fact that you’re new to the city? That you live in the Castro? Your name? Your fake job?”
Lola looked up at Del and shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said so much. I was stupid!”