Marcia Clark - Guilt By Degrees

“Now we know how Simon got the idea,” Bailey said.

I nodded. We both scanned the article. I wanted to see why the case had gone south at the first trial and what had made the Feds pick it up. But halfway through the story I suddenly became aware that a heavy silence had settled around us. I looked up. We were alone.

“Come on,” I said with some urgency. “We can read it in the car.”

We threw the rest of the papers into the box, and Bailey carried it out. I yanked the door shut and nervously fumbled the key into the lock, but it stubbornly refused to turn. I had to pull it out and jam it back in twice before I finally got the damn thing locked.

Quickly we moved to the elevator, and I held the door open for Bailey. Inside, I punched the combination into the keypad. The door closed and we began to descend, but before we could reach ground level, a deafeningly loud clang reverberated through the walls. My stomach lurched. Bailey and I looked at each other, our eyes wide.

“What the hell was that?” I asked.

Bailey shook her head. “No idea.”

She unsnapped her holster. I took the hint and pulled my gun out of my purse.

The elevator came to a stop at the first floor, and the doors slid open. Bailey picked up the box, and I motioned to her to stay there. Heart pounding, I peered out into the hallway. Nothing. I stuck my hand out to hold the elevator door open and looked around to my right. Nothing. I looked to my left. And saw where the sound had come from. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, in the hope I was wrong. I wasn’t. I turned to Bailey.

“We’re locked in.”

The garage-styledoor to the main entrance, which was corrugated metal, had slammed down, shutting us in. Bailey dropped the box outside the elevator. The hallway to the main door was lit, but the corridor that ran perpendicular was completely dark. We’d have to cross that corridor to get to the entrance. I strained my eyes to see as far as I could, but the darkness was so total, it was like staring into a well.

I pulled out my.38 and held it in front of me, and Bailey held her.44 down by her side. Slowly, my body tensed for ambush, we moved toward the metal door. When we reached the edge of the darkened corridor, we stopped and looked from right to left. But it was impossible to see anything in the inky blackness.

Bailey mouthed, On three.

I nodded. She held out her fingers. One. Two. Three.

We ran for the entrance. I’d misgauged the distance, and my adrenaline had given me more speed than there was space. I flew across the width of the dark corridor and hurtled straight into the metal door. It would’ve been funny-except I was sure it would be the last joke we ever shared. I quickly searched the door for a handle. There wasn’t one.

“It’s probably automated,” Bailey said.

I looked around. I didn’t know if there was another exit. The only possibility of finding one was to venture blindly down the corridor of inky blackness. No, gracias.

“We need to make some noise,” Bailey said.

We began to bang on the door and yell, “Hey! We’re in here!”

As we were shouting and pounding, I kept anticipating the feeling of a knife in my back or the searing heat of a bullet as it ripped through my flesh. What worried me most was that with all the racket we were making, we wouldn’t be able to hear if someone was coming up behind us. I motioned to Bailey to stop and looked around.

We waited in silence for a few moments. I tried to get my breathing under control, but my racing pulse made it nearly impossible. The feeling of impending danger was physically painful.

Seconds later, the door slid open.

“Sorry,” Gary said, looking upset and embarrassed. “Someone leaned on the panel out here and shut the thing by accident.”

I was so light-headed with relief I thought I’d faint.

“You okay?” he asked, looking at us closely.

“Fine,” Bailey replied.

“All good,” I said, strolling out with as much nonchalance as my wobbly knees would allow. Whatever you do, I told myself, don’t throw up.

“Then what’s with the firepower?” he asked, nodding toward the guns in our hands.

“Oh,” I said. “Just comparing.”

“She’s thinking about getting a Glock,” Bailey said.

We got into Bailey’s car and Gary got into his, which was parked a few feet ahead. Bailey rolled down the window.

“Thanks for everything,” she called out.

He waved to her and we followed him to the exit, where he punched in the code. The gate opened and we rolled out, inches behind him.

Bailey headed toward the freeway.

“Olives on the side, so there’s more room for the important stuff,” I said.

She nodded and punched the accelerator.

By thetime we got back to my room, we were wrung out-and somewhat inebriated-dishrags. If Gary and the other investigators noticed our condition when we left the bar, they were cool enough not to mention it. We said a blurry good night. I showered and was about to get into bed when I found a message on the hotel phone. That was weird. No one ever called me on that phone. I punched in the number to retrieve the message and listened.

“Hi, it’s Daniel. It’s about…six thirty p.m. I tried you at the office, but they said you were out in the field. I was just wondering, if you don’t have plans for dinner, maybe you’d like some company. Here’s my number…”

I reflexively picked up a pen and wrote down the number on the notepad I kept next to my phone. I hung up and stared at what I’d written. I knew the message was about more than just an impromptu dinner invitation. What I didn’t know was what to do about it.

Too tired to ponder the question after the day we’d had, I fell into bed and hoped for a dreamless sleep. So of course I dreamed all night that I was being chased by giant, faceless, machete-wielding monsters.

Over breakfast the next morning, I pulled out the brochures I’d found in one of Simon’s boxes.

“He’s got a pamphlet for a place in Glendale, and one in Venice.” I read from the latter. “Venice Community Housing. It has low-cost housing as well as transitional housing for the homeless. Got a couple of names written on it.” I squinted at the jagged writing. “Looks like…Diane?”

“Glendale’s probably just a place close to home,” Bailey said. “Venice’s more interesting.”

“And if it doesn’t pan out, we can hit the Glendale shelter.”

The weather was a little cooler than yesterday, and a few clouds had moved in, but it was still fairly mild for December. I wore a crewneck sweater, jeans, and a leather jacket. I figured the layering would let me adapt if it got warmer. We were on our way out the door when my cell phone played the opening bars of “The Crystal Ship.” “It’s Toni,” I said. “Probably calling to see what we want to do tonight.”

Bailey shrugged. “Let’s see how the day pans out.”

I nodded and let it go to voice mail. “I’ll call back later.”

The transitional-housing facility in Venice turned out to be a charming house with blue wood siding and brick-colored trim. Since there was no parking lot, Bailey waved the investigators toward the open spot in front of the house while we drove farther down the street to park in a red zone.

I looked pointedly at the red-painted curb. “It’s not just me this time, Keller,” I said. “We’ve got other sworn law-enforcement officers on the scene. They might actually bust your scofflaw ass.”

She strode up the sidewalk ahead of me. Gary had gotten out of his car and was watching the foot and vehicle traffic, looking up and down the street.