Chris Carter - The Caller

‘Great, because it’s to one of those that I would like you to take me.’

‘Oh no, you really don’t want to go to any of those places.’

‘But I do. I really do.’

Webb looked at Dr. Barnes from head to toes. ‘But you’re dressed so nicely, and those places are proper dumps. Believe me.’

‘I can change. It’s not a problem.’ She began swerving her body around.

‘No. Please don’t.’ He stopped her. They locked eyes. ‘That really is where you’d like me to take you?’

‘Yes.’

Webb chuckled to himself. ‘OK, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

Just over thirty minutes later, Webb parked his car on Hollywood Boulevard, just in front of a tiny pizza place called Joe’s Pizza.

‘Here we are,’ he said.

Dr. Barnes looked at it from the passenger seat and smiled.

‘I told you that the places we go on the job are dumps.’

‘Is the food good?’

‘The food is awesome. Best pizza pie in Hollywood Boulevard. It’s just not the place where anyone brings a date to.’

‘Did you say pizza pie?’

A short pause.

‘I did. Do you like them?’

‘I love pizza pies.’

Webb’s face lit up. ‘Oh, in that case, get ready for this then,’ he said, with a proud twist to his tone, ‘because this will change your life.’

Dr. Barnes was unsure if she could call it a life-changing experience, but it certainly was a habit-changing one. The special Grandma Pie they shared was the best pizza pie she had ever tasted, and she hadn’t laughed so hard in years. As it turned out, Detective Webb was a very amusing person.

As she finished her last slice, she looked at Webb and smiled again.

‘What?’ he asked, looking back at her sideways. ‘Do I have cheese on my chin?’ He grabbed a paper napkin and dabbed it against his chin.

‘No. It’s not that.’

‘Oh!’ He put the napkin down.

‘It’s just that... I was worried that we would struggle with conversation.’

Webb found the statement strange. ‘I’m not sure I follow.’

‘Well, because of the line of work we’re in,’ Dr. Barnes explained, ‘neither of us can really talk about our jobs, am I right? I mean, you probably can’t tell me anything about any of the investigations you are involved in at the moment, and I can’t really talk about any of my patients.’

Webb had a sip of his Dr Pepper before agreeing.

‘I for one spend most of my days involved in something to do with my work,’ she said, ‘including weekends, and I have a feeling that so do you.’

‘Yeah, that’s an understatement.’

‘So,’ she said, ‘I just thought that since neither of us could talk about what keeps us busy for most of our days, conversation would die a death, but I have been proven wrong.’ She toyed with her can of root beer. ‘So far, I’ve had the best time I’ve had in a very long time.’ The inviting smile was back. This time, the mysterious part of it wasn’t there anymore.

Webb lifted his drink, proposing a toast. ‘Me too. And I’ll drink to that.’

They touched cans before a moment of awkward silence took over.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ Dr. Barnes said. ‘I know you’re not drinking because you’re driving, right? But how about we go back to my place, you park your car there, we call a cab, and go have some real fun — tequila style.’

Webb regarded his date for a few seconds. He liked her more and more as the night went on.

‘That sounds great,’ he said. ‘But you’re forgetting that I still have to drive home when we get back from wherever we go.’

The look Dr. Barnes gave Detective Webb put a definite end to that theory.

He smiled at her. ‘OK. You’re on.’

‘Why don’t you come in?’ she said as Webb pulled up in front of her house, around forty minutes after they left Joe’s Pizza. ‘We could have a glass of wine while we wait for the cab.’

‘That sounds great to me.’

As they approached the doctor’s front door, they both heard Webb’s phone go off in his pocket.

‘Just a second,’ he told her, bring the phone to his ear. ‘Detective Webb.’ As he listened to the person at the other end of the line, his facial expression shifted. ‘When?’ He listened for a little longer before drawing an extra deep breath. ‘Motherfu...’ His eyes found Dr. Barnes’ and he paused mid-word. ‘OK. OK,’ he said into his phone, breaking eye contact. ‘I’m on my way.’ He disconnected and returned the phone to his pocket.

‘Gwen, I’m so sorry about this, but...’

For a second she looked upset, but Dr. Barnes knew better than most what a call like that meant.

‘It’s OK, Julian,’ she stopped him. ‘I understand.’ She stepped closer and gave him a peck on the lips. ‘How about you drop by whenever you’re done.’ She winked at him. ‘I’ll keep the wine and the tequila chilled.’

‘That’s a deal.’ He smiled before kissing her again, this time for a lot longer.

‘I’ll be waiting.’

Once Webb was gone, Dr. Barnes unlocked her front door and stepped into her living room. Even if she tried to, she wouldn’t be able to get rid of the smile on her face.

She hadn’t dated anyone in nearly two years, and she had almost forgotten how exciting it could be. How a single kiss could make a person feel. And right then, she felt good. So good that the note and bracelet incident had completely slipped her mind. So good that for an instant, she kept the lights switched off, leaned back against her front door, closed her eyes and savored the moment. So good that she failed to notice the dark shadow now standing just outside her window, his eyes staring straight at her.

Erica Barnes placed the popcorn bag inside the microwave, set the time to two and a half minutes and hit the start button. While waiting for the ‘pops’ to begin, she poured herself a large glass of wine.

Popcorn and red wine, that was how Erica fought off her Sunday night blues. Not that she suffered badly from it. She didn’t hate her job and the people she worked with were... well... ‘bearable’ would be the word she’d use. She also didn’t fear Monday mornings. She never had a problem getting up early, and she rarely started her week in a ‘grumpy’ mood, but still, there was just something about Sunday evenings that always made her feel a little sad.

Sunday nights were also poker nights , the nights when Trevor, her boyfriend of two years and who Erica shared her small one-bedroom apartment with, would usually lose one hundred and fifty dollars (maximum stakes allowed) to his friends. True, every now and then he would win a little, but those Sunday nights were rare, to say the least.

But there was one thing about this particular Sunday evening that did excite Erica. Her sister, Dr. Gwen Barnes, was going out on a date. That thought alone brought a smile to Erica’s lips. Gwen hadn’t dated anyone in a very long time and, in Erica’s view, it was about time her sister got back in the game.

They had spoken briefly on the phone earlier in the day. In the conversation, Gwen mentioned that she’d met someone... someone who seemed to be a nice person. She also mentioned that they were supposed to go out for coffee later today. Erica’s immediate reaction was to shower her sister with questions: ‘Who is he? Where did you meet? How did you meet?’ But Gwen smoothly dodged the questions by telling her that she was running late for something and that she would call Erica again later, after the date.

Erica heard the first popcorn pop after thirty-three seconds. She placed her wine glass on the counter and leaned forward, getting closer to the microwave. The instructions on the packet said two and a half minutes but, just like most people, she preferred to listen to the time gap between pops. As soon as it got to any longer than two seconds, it was time to stop it.