Robert Crais - The Forgotten Man

Frederick returned to Los Angeles that afternoon. Cole's house was a vicious crouched spider clinging to the edge of a cliff, all mean angles and shadows. The carport was empty, and two women were walking a dog past Cole's house, so Frederick continued on. He parked at a nearby construction site, then hunkered down behind an olive tree to keep an eye on Cole's house.

A few minutes before six that evening, a car parked outside Cole's front door, and a woman got out. She didn't knock or ring the bell; she let herself into Cole's house with her own key, which gave Frederick pause. A woman might be named Elvis as easily as a man. Maybe Elvis Cole was a woman. Then he remembered that James Kramer had spoken of Cole as a man, so Frederick decided she was probably Cole's wife. He was deciding whether or not to murder her, too, when a dirty yellow Corvette came around the curve and turned into Cole's carport. It was one of the old Corvettes from the sixties, what they called a Sting Ray. Frederick sensed this was Elvis Cole; more than sensed it, he knew it, and knew that Cole was wearing a disguise as perfect as Frederick 's own; the dirty car, the jeans and knockaround running shoes, and the stupid Hawaiian shirt with its tail hanging out were a pretense. Cole was pretending to be a regular man to hide his true self-a relentless killer-for-hire with a heart of hot ice.

Frederick 's suspicions were confirmed in the next moment when Cole reached under his shirt, pulled out a pistol, and let himself into the house. Frederick tipped forward, expecting gunfire, but no shots rang out.

Now Frederick didn't know what to do. He had planned on killing Cole as soon as Cole arrived, but Cole was armed and expecting trouble. If Frederick went to the door, Cole might shoot him on sight.

A little while later, a third car appeared, this one also driven by a woman. She parked across Cole's driveway. When she got out of her car, Frederick saw a badge clipped to her waist. Frederick wondered if she had come to arrest Cole, but when Cole answered the door, he let her in with a beaming smile.

I was searching the freezer for sausage when I remembered about Starkey. Starkey was coming over. She was probably on her way.

"Hey, you remember Carol Starkey? I forgot. She's coming over tonight."

Something like interest flickered in Lucy's eyes, but then she smiled.

"I guess you forgot, all right."

"It's nothing like that, Lucille. Starkey's tracking a juvie file on someone I'm trying to find. I have to get these articles to her, so I invited her for dinner. No big deal."

The articles were still on the counter.

"I'm serious. Is it better if I leave?"

"Absolutely not. If I'd known you were going to be here, I wouldn't have asked Starkey. She'll understand."

Lucy and I were thawing the sausage when Starkey knocked.

I said, "That's Starkey."

"Ask her to stay. I mean it."

I called out that I was coming and went to the door. When I opened it, Starkey flipped away a cigarette, blew a geyser of smoke toward the trees, and came in with a square pink bakery box.

She said, "Whose car is that?"

Lucy stepped out of the kitchen as Starkey came inside. Lucy was holding the package of sausage and a knife. She smiled nicely.

"Hello, Detective. It's good to see you again."

Starkey stared at Lucy as if she couldn't put a name to her face.

I said, "Ben's mom."

"I know who she is, Cole. Ms. Chenier. How's your little boy?"

"He's well, thank you. He's doing very well."

Lucy gestured with the sausage, and went back to the kitchen.

"I have to get back. I'm dripping."

When Lucy was gone, I lowered my voice.

"Lucy was here when I got back. I didn't know she was in town."

Lucy called from the kitchen.

"Ask her to stay."

I lowered my voice even more.

"Starkey, look, you mind taking a rain check? She's only here for-"

Starkey pushed the box into my hands.

"Fruit tarts. Don't worry about it, Cole. Give me the stuff and I'm gone."

I brought the dessert box into the kitchen, and told Lucy that Starkey was leaving. When I scooped up the articles, Lucy followed me back to the living room. Starkey was still fidgeting by the door. She hadn't come three steps into my house.

Lucy said, "Please, Detective, have dinner with us. At least have a drink."

"I don't drink-I smoke."

Starkey snatched the articles from me, folded them, then tried to slip them into her outer pocket.

"I ran Reinnike's name, Cole. He doesn't have an adult record, so you're shit out of luck with that. I'll let you know if I find something in Juvenile."

Lucy said, "Please-stay for a while. We can visit."

"I gotta get going."

Starkey kept pushing the articles at her pocket, but they wouldn't go in. The paper had folded outside her pocket.

I said, "The paper's bent."

Starkey pushed harder.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

I said, "You're making it worse."

Starkey gave up on the pocket and turned for the door.

Lucy said, "It was good seeing you, Detective."

"Tell the little boy I asked after him."

Lucy smiled nicely, clearly touched.

"I will. Thank you."

Starkey stopped at the door, looked at me as if she was going to say something, but glanced back at Lucy.

"He misses you."

Lucy's jaw tightened, but she made no other response as Starkey went out. I stood in the door until Starkey was in her car, then returned to the kitchen. Lucy was searching through my cupboards. She saw I was back, and smiled brightly.

"Okay, boss, let's get this going. I'm starving to death."

"I'm sorry she said that about me missing you. It's none of her business."

Lucy put two large cans of chopped tomatoes on the counter, and set about opening them as if nothing was wrong. Her eyebrows arched.

"She likes you, Mr. Cole."

"Not the way you mean."

Lucy considered me, then shook her head, and went back to opening the cans.

"You can tell me what she's helping you with while we cook."

I watched her for a moment, wondering what to say and how to say it. Lucy softened me. Maybe it was the warmth of her hair (the best color money can buy) or the curve of her cheek or the determined intelligence in her eyes; maybe it was her scent or the way one front tooth overlapped the other or the faint lines gathered at the corners of her eyes. The whole of her gave me a peace I had not known without her. The knots in my neck and upper back loosened; the strained buzzing in my chest calmed. I did not tell her about Reinnike. I told her I was working a missing-persons case, and let it go at that. A man and his son had disappeared, and I was trying to find them. I didn't lie to her; I just didn't tell her everything. I didn't tell her the important things. Maybe I was tired of the drama, or maybe I didn't want to spoil our evening.

We cooked together as if she had never been away, and I only remembered we were no longer a couple when I wanted to touch her, but couldn't. I wanted everything to be as it had once been, but I respected her choices, and knew her choices weren't easy for her, either. She was doing what she felt she had to do. She was doing what she thought was right for her child. Maybe I could appreciate those choices more than other people, or maybe I was just drunk. In my fantasies, my own mother loved me as much; my own father cared. That Lucy gave up so much for her child left me loving her more and wanting her more and willing to sacrifice anything to nurture her love. What she gave Ben was everything I had wanted for myself; what she was to him was everything I had been denied by my own parents.

We cooked, and ate, and after a while we sat together in the silence of my house, the two of us on the couch, sitting close, her hand in mine. My home felt warm and alive; not just wood and glass and tile, but something more. I knew she would leave soon. She knew it, too. Maybe that's why we were silent.