by Meg O'Brien
Abby followed Jimmy to a room behind that, where stairs led upward. At the top of the stairs she paused for breath and said, “Where the hell are we going?”
“To the roof,” he said. “We can cross over from there to another building, and then take stairs down to the street behind this one.”
“So in all the time you’ve been working outside the law, so to speak, the cops don’t know about this?”
He shook his head. “Not even Joey knows. This is Mama’s deal. And mine.”
She didn’t say so, but Joey didn’t look all that naive to her. Still, what other choice did she have at this point?
She followed him up the stairs, all the while imagining a truckload of cops and FBI at the top, just waiting to throw a net around her. But they stepped out onto the roof to the cooing of pigeons and an airliner roaring overhead, nothing more.
The surface of the roof was flat, and covered in tar paper and stones. The air was blazing hot, and melting tar bubbled up through the stones, getting on her beat-up sneakers. Come to think of it, there had been old, dried tar on them already. Seemed like they’d seen this roof before.
When they came to the edge of the roof, Jimmy turned to her and said, “Now, here’s where you’ll have to trust me.”
“Oh?” She looked warily over the edge.
It was a two-story fall to the alley below, and between where she stood and the building across from it, was a full three-foot gap.
Not that far, but enough to remind her that she was scared to death of heights.
“I thought you meant that the roofs butted up to each other,” she said, stepping back a few feet. “Not this far apart.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Jimmy said. “You can do it.”
In her fear, she turned on him. “I can do it? How the hell do you know I can do it? You don’t know me at all.”
“I know you survived a beating, a very bad rap on the head and almost got turned into scrap metal. Are you telling me you can’t jump three feet? I’ve seen tinier women than you do it!”
“I don’t care. I can’t do it! You don’t understand.”
“I understand we might not have much time left before your FBI and cop friends show up and arrest you. Look, I’ll go first, and I’ll be right there to catch you.”
“No! Don’t go!”
Her vision went dark and she swayed, then fell to her knees. Bending over, she put her head between them.
“For God’s sake, Abby—” Jimmy stood over her, his hand on her shoulder, voice tight with worry. “Abby, get a grip. This is no time to faint!”
“I’m not fainting,” she muttered angrily. “It’s vasovagal.”
“What?”
“Just give me a minute!”
He patted her on the shoulder. “Take your time. We’ll make it work somehow.”
She sighed, sat up for a minute, then got to her feet. “It’s vasovagal syndrome. Some kind of nerve pressing on an artery in the neck. It can make you faint, nauseated, anxious…I’ve had it a couple of years.” Since that bastard nearly strangled me, in fact.
Jimmy ran his hands through his hair. “Dammit! How often does this happen?”
“Not much. I never know when—”
“For God’s sake, Abby! Why didn’t you tell me?”
He ran his fingers through his hair again. “Well, that’s it, then. You can’t jump. Not if you might pass out on the way.”
“I will not pass out,” she said firmly. “I was just afraid, and this was sort of like an anxiety attack. I’m not afraid anymore. So let’s go.”
Before he could say or do anything, she walked back several feet to get a head start, then turned and ran to the edge, flying across the open space to clear the other roof’s edge with room to spare.
Jimmy stood where she’d left him, just staring at her.
“You were faking!” he said. “You weren’t afraid at all!”
But Abby barely heard him. Once she knew she was still alive, she passed out cold.
19
Janella had arranged for Angelita to pick them up in her cab on the next street over. Abby had no idea where they were going, but was too busy nursing a sore ankle to worry about it.
“You should have seen her,” Jimmy said to Angelita. “She was scared to death, and she still jumped off that roof.”
“I was not scared,” Abby lied. “It was nerves. Besides, I’ve learned to shut out fear when I have to.”
“Oh? How’d you do that?” Angelita asked, looking at her through the rearview mirror.
“Martial arts. It’s one of the first things you learn.”
Jimmy shook his head. “Why is it that sounds like only half the story?”
Abby didn’t answer, and Angelita just shot her a knowing glance. Men, the look seemed to say. The things you have to know, just to protect yourself.
But Abby had to admit that Ben, at least, was one of the good ones. He had never abused her, never given her any reason to be fearful of him.
They just didn’t seem to be on the same track lately. It shocked her that almost overnight she had lost her trust in him. Where was he now, for that matter? Waiting with the FBI and the Phoenix cops to arrest her.
“We’re here,” Angelita said.
Abby looked out the window and saw that they were at the house she’d been to last night. Turning to Jimmy, she said, “We’re doing this now?”
“I thought you’d want to. You may not have another chance, if that posse catches up to you.”
“I…I guess you’re right.” She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know if Alicia was here, now. What would she say to her, after what had happened last night? Why did you let them knock me out and leave me for dead in my car? That might be a good beginning. But did she really want an answer?
Sighing, she stepped out of the car, and then remembered, for the first time since the roof, the way she was dressed.
“No one’s going to open the door to me looking like this!”
“That’s why I’m going first,” Jimmy said. He was still wearing the lightweight sport jacket he’d jumped the roof in. Fastening the middle button, he said, “There, now. Do I look like a lawyer?”
There were scuff marks on the knees of his jeans, and spots of black tar on the jacket and one side of his face.
She rubbed some of the tar off his cheek with a thumb. “No. But I’m not complaining.”
“Let’s go, then. And you stand behind me, so they can’t get too good a look at you. Pull that hat down over your face.”
She tilted the hat and followed him up the walk, while Angelita waited in the cab with the motor idling.
“I feel really stupid,” Abby said in a low voice. “Like Harpo Marx. Or some cheap detective in one of those old movies.”
“If it makes you feel any better, that’s exactly what you look like,” Jimmy said with a chuckle.
“Gee, thanks.”
He stepped up onto the concrete block that served as a porch and rang the bell.
For a few seconds, no one answered. Then footsteps sounded inside the door and it slowly opened. It wasn’t the woman from last night, but a man. Abby stole a look from under the brim of the hat, and couldn’t keep her mouth from falling open.
It was one of the FBI agents from that night at the Prayer House. She was sure of it. She’d only had a brief glimpse of him as he stood under the overhead light in the main hall, but this was the same man—light blond hair cut to the scalp, blond eyebrows and a hard mouth. She remembered him because when they all came busting in, she felt like Maria in The Sound of Music, with the Nazi soldiers on her tail.
While Jimmy talked to the man, she forced herself not to make a sound, and carefully kept her head down.
“Sorry to bother you,” Jimmy said. “I’m an attorney, and a client has asked me to find someone for him. I understand she lives here. Alicia Gerard?”
The man shook his head without missing a beat. “Sorry, there’s just me and my
wife here. I don’t know anyone by that name.”
He started to shut the door, but Jimmy leaned in slightly. If the man tried to close it on him, he’d have to use force.
“But I have a phone number that’s listed at this address,” Jimmy said, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and studying it with a frown. “Did you just move here?”
“A few months ago,” the man said. “That must be the problem. When the person you’re looking for moved, the phone would have been disconnected.”
“Did you buy this house from a woman named Alicia Gerard?” Jimmy asked.
The man shook his head. “We bought it through a real estate company. I don’t remember anyone there by that name. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to do some work.”
As he said this, he was looking around Jimmy to Abby. “Your friend…is he a relative of this woman?”
“Harry?” Jimmy shook his head and touched it with a finger in the age-old way of indicating that his companion was “teched.”
“No, Harry’s my cousin,” he said, smiling. “I’m looking after him today. He sort of follows me around.”
The man stared at Abby. “He seems familiar somehow.”
“Harry? Oh, everybody knows Harry. You probably saw him in the park by City Hall. He likes to people-watch.”
The man stared a moment more, while Abby kept her head down, her hands in her pockets and shuffled her feet.
“About the woman I’m looking for—” Jimmy said.
The man withdrew into the house. “Like I said, I don’t know anything about her. I really do have to go now.”
He shut the door, and without looking at Abby, Jimmy said softly, “Home run. Now let’s get back to the car. But slowly. And watch the way you walk, Cousin Harry.”
Abby slouched and dragged her feet in the filthy sneakers. Jimmy went around to the back door of the cab, street side, and Abby slid in from the curb. Angelita, who had kept the motor running, pulled out into the street.
Abby turned to Jimmy and said, “That guy. I know him.”
“That guy at the door?”
“Not his name. But he’s an FBI agent. He and his pals were at my house the other night, looking for Alicia.”
“And I thought I had hit a home run,” Jimmy said.
“Really? How?”
“Well, it was pretty clear he was lying, just by the way he held himself and wouldn’t let me in the door. An innocent person doesn’t act that way, even if they don’t want to let someone in. Usually, they’ll apologize more, smile awkwardly, that sort of thing.”
“Oh, he was lying, all right. I’m just not sure—”
“You two want to go anywhere special?” Angelita asked from the front. “I could just keep driving east, but we’d be in Chicago in three or four days.”
“Drive anyplace away from the restaurant or the real estate office,” Jimmy said, “till we figure this out.”
He looked at Abby. “I can talk to Joey, see if he could get a search warrant to get into that house.”
Abby shook her head. “When I stood outside that door just now, I had a feeling Alicia wasn’t there—or if she was, she’s gone.”
“Oh? Anything substantial to base this feeling on?”
“Well, today, instead of just pretending no one was home, that FBI agent came to the door and opened it. Seems like he must have seen us coming up the walk, so he’d know we weren’t anyone he was expecting.”
“True. So why did he open the door?”
“I’m thinking he must have had word from the agents who were outside your mother’s restaurant that you and I were on the run. And I’ll bet my Cousin Harry disguise didn’t fool him a bit. But he didn’t grab us and arrest us. Or me, anyway. Don’t you think that’s a bit strange, when we just had to leap over rooftops to get away from the CIA, the FBI and a passel of Arizona and California cops?”
“Not if he wanted something from us,” Jimmy said thoughtfully.
“Exactly. But what?”
“Now, there you’ve got me.”
“Maybe he wanted to know if I’d found Alicia,” Abby said, “or if we were there for some other reason. Once you asked if she was in the house, he wasn’t interested in us at all.”
Jimmy frowned. “You’re right,” he said, “and this is looking more and more like some sort of setup.”
“With me as the patsy.”
“Angelita,” Jimmy said to his cousin, “where are we going?”
“You told me to just drive, Kime. We’re in Scottsdale now. Next stop Yuma, Mexico City, Rio…”
“Very funny. How about if we mosey on over to a pay phone instead.”
“Sure thing.”
“Who are you calling?” Abby asked.
“A guy I know downtown. He works for me on missing persons cases.”
“You trust him?”
“With my life.”
“I don’t know about that,” Angelita warned. “I remember one time—”
“That was a mistake,” Jimmy said shortly. “Here—this gas station. Pull up!”
Angelita jammed on the brakes, hooked a hard right and thumped over the curb. She swore. “You’re gonna owe me a new cab one of these days, cousin.”
Jimmy got out and crossed to the phone booth while Angelita shook her head and made worried sounds.
“There’s something wrong with this guy he’s calling?” Abby asked.
“Oh, Juan’s nice enough, I guess. He comes over to dinner sometimes, plays with the kids, sort of like an uncle. But there was that one time when I was pretty sure he got Kime in trouble on purpose.”
“Really? What kind of trouble?”
“Kime was helping a father from Mexico to get to his children in Texas. The mother had crossed over with the kids a couple of years before, but the dad couldn’t. Then the mother died, and there wasn’t anybody to take care of the kids. A neighbor in their apartment house looked after them and tried to keep them out of child services, but they really needed their father.”
“So Jimmy helped the dad to get into this country illegally?” Abby said.
“He tried to, with the idea that the father would straighten it out with INS after he got his kids. But Juan, who was supposed to drive him from the Arizona border to Texas, messed up and the dad got caught and deported. The kids have been in the system ever since.”
“And you think Juan messed up on purpose? Why would he do that?”
“Money.” Angelita faced front and folded her arms, sighing. “It’s always money, when people don’t have any.”
“So Juan needs money?”
“All the time. Oh, don’t get me wrong. He makes plenty. Juan just likes to spend it.” Her laughter was bitter. “On the ladies, on gambling…”
“Then why is Jimmy trusting him now?”
“He probably isn’t. But Juan knows his way around, and Jimmy needs somebody like that. Besides, Juan isn’t all bad, he just bends the rules. Not that I’m anyone to talk.”
Angelita turned again and grinned at Abby. “Like now, for instance. If they caught you with me—”
“If they caught me with you,” Abby said, “I’d swear I’d never seen you before in my life. I’m not above bending a few rules myself.”
Angelita smiled. “Sure, kid. I know that. But Kime’s my cousin, and I worry about him, too.”
It didn’t take a genius to understand what she was saying. “You’re right,” Abby agreed. “It’s time I got myself a new cabbie,” she said firmly. “And a new lawyer.”
“You might not need to do that,” Jimmy said, getting in beside Abby again.
“Oh?”
“Juan says Alicia Gerard hasn’t been reported missing—not here, or anywhere in the country. And neither have you.”
“But that’s impossible. I was told there had been an APB put out on Alicia back in Carmel. And you told me that according to the news, when I left the hospital, there was one on me, too.”
“Well, there isn’t anymore.
Juan says they must have both been withdrawn.”
“But why—”
“I’m thinking that maybe they don’t want you found after all. I think they’re still hoping that you’ll lead them to Alicia.”
Abby twisted to look out the back window. There weren’t any cars she could remember having seen before today. There was a black sedan behind them now, but then, there were all kinds of black cars on the road.
“I don’t get it,” she said. “The FBI and CIA must have better ways of finding people than anyone else. Why would they need me to find her?”
“Good question. Juan suggested that somebody may be hiding her. If so, it would have to be someone with plenty of power. Enough power—and probably enough money—to outwit the federal government.”
“Gerry!” Abby said immediately. “That would be Gerry, her husband.”
“The thought did occur to me. You haven’t talked to him, have you?”
“No, Alicia asked me not to. But I’ve been wondering what he was told. If he’s been told. If the fact that she’s missing is being covered up, and Gerry’s not the one hiding her, maybe he hasn’t heard anything at all.”
Abby leaned forward and said, “Angelita, could you take me to the airport?”
“Sure. You need to pick up your clothes or anything first?”
Abby shook her head. “All I’ve got is what’s on me right now.”
Fortunately, that included the shorts and T-shirt she was still wearing under her disguise. She could dump the fisherman’s clothes in the airport restroom, and she would still watch to see if she was being followed. But now that the APBs had been lifted on her and Alicia, she saw no reason to go to extreme lengths to hide.
To Jimmy, she said, “I’ve got Gerry’s private cell phone number at home, and I’ll call him from there. I think it’s time I got back home, anyway, and checked on Jancy, their daughter.”
“Would you like me to go with you?”
She studied him. “You’d do that?”