Лиза Макманн: Fade

“Have you taken a look at Martha’s reports yet?”

“Some,” Janie says.

“Any questions?”

Janie hesitates, thinking about what Miss Stubin said in the dream.

“Nope. Not yet.”

“Good. Oh, and Janie?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re calling from home. Haven’t I given you a goddamned cell phone yet?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, I don’t want you to go anywhere without one from now on.

You hear me? I’ll have one for you tomorrow. Stop by after school.

And you need to tell Cabel about this guy if you haven’t already. I don’t want you in this project alone. It already makes me ill, knowing that creep is hitting on other high-school girls, much less you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“One more thing,” Captain says.

“Yes?”

There’s a pause.

“Happy birthday. There’s a gift on my desk for you. The cell phone will be next to it by tomorrow after school, if you come while I’m not here.”

Janie can’t speak.

She swallows.

“Is that clear?” Captain says.

Janie blinks her tears away. “Sir, yes, sir.”

“Good.” There’s a smile in her voice.

It’s well after six before Janie makes it to Cabel’s house. She jiggles her keys, trying to find the right one, and he opens the door. She looks up at him. Smiles. “Hi.”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Sorry. Stuff happened.” She enters the house. Takes off her coat and boots.

“What stuff?”

She sniffs the air. “What are you cooking?”

“Chicken. What stuff?”

“Oh, you know. Got to school late, and everything fell apart after that.

You ever have one of those days?”

He goes to the stove and flips the chicken. “Yeah. Practically every day last semester, when you wouldn’t talk to me. So what happened?”

She sighs. “My beaker exploded. Third hour. Durbin. I had to go in after school to redo the experiment.”

He looks at her, tongs in hand. “The guy with the groceries?”

She nods.

“And?”

“And…I think he’s the guy we’re after. I called Captain.”

He sets the tongs down loudly on the counter. “What makes you think that?”

“He touched me. It was…weird.” She says it quickly, and then turns and goes into the bathroom.

But he’s right behind her, and she can’t get the door closed because his foot is in the way. “Where?” he shouts.

She cringes. Squeaks. She takes a breath, gathers her nerve, and gives him a furious look. “Stop it, Cabe! If you can’t handle this without getting in my face about it, I’m not going to tell you anything.”

He hears her.

His eyes grow wide.

“Oh baby,” he whispers. Steps back. Out of the doorway. His face is ashen. He walks slowly back to the kitchen. Leans over the counter.

Puts his head in his hands. His hair falls over his fingers.

The bathroom door clicks shut.

She stays in there for a long time.

He’s pulling his hair out.

Finally, frustrated, he calls Captain. “What’s going on, sir?”

There is a pause, and then he says, “She said he touched her. That’s all

I’ve gotten out of her so far.”

He nods.

Yanks his hair.

“Yes, sir.”

He listens intently.

His face changes.

“It’s what?”

Then.

“Bloody fucking fuck,” he mutters. “You’re kidding.” He closes his eyes. “Shoot me now. I didn’t know.”

He turns off the phone.

Sets it on the table.

Walks to the bathroom door.

Leans his forehead against the molding.

“Janie,” he says. “I’m sorry I yelled. I can’t stand the thought of that creep touching you. I’ll get a handle on it. I promise.”

He waits. Listens.

“Janie,” he says again.

Then gets worried.

“Janie, please let me know you’re okay in there. I’m worried. Just say something, anything, so I—”

“I’m okay in here,” she says.

“Will you come out?”

“Will you stop yelling at me?”

“Yes,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re driving me crazy,” she says, coming out. “And you scared me.”

He nods.

“Don’t do that.”

“Okay.”

7:45 p.m.

Cabel turns the burner on low under the chicken, hoping to salvage it.

Janie’s in the computer room, writing up her notes.

He comes in and sits opposite her, at the other computer. Does some surfing. Some typing. Hits Send. Janie’s computer binks. When she finishes her notes, she checks her Gmail. Clicks on the link. Watches the screen.

It’s a Flash e-card.

Simple and beautiful.

I love you, and I’m sorry I’m an asshole.

Happy birthday.

Love, Cabe

She looks down at the keys. Composes her thoughts. Hits Reply.

Dear Cabe, Thank you for the card.

It means a lot to me.

I haven’t received a birthday card since I turned nine. I just realized that was half my life ago.

I’m sorry I’m an asshole too. I know it frustrates you when I don’t take care of myself—that’s why you were mad the other day, isn’t it? I’ll try harder to work on the dreams, so they don’t mess me up so badly. And

I’ll keep supplies in my backpack from now on. I should have been doing that all along, so you don’t have to worry so much. Thing is, I like it when you are there to help me. It makes me feel like somebody cares, you know? So maybe I’ve neglected some things on purpose, just so you notice. It’s stupid. I’ll stop with that. Why are you so upset about this case? All I know is that I really miss you.

Love, J.

She reads it over and hits Send.

Cabel’s computer binks.

He reads the e-mail.

Hits Reply.

Dear J., I want to explain something.

After my dad set me on fire…Well…He died in jail while I was still in the hospital getting skin grafts. And I never got to tell him how much he hurt me. Not just physically, but inside, you know? So I took it out on other things for a while. I’m better now. I got counseling for it, and

I’m really better. But I’m not perfect. And I’m still fighting it. See…

You’re, like, the only person I have in my life that I really care about.

I’m selfish about that. I don’t want anybody to touch you. I want to keep you safe. That’s why I hate this assignment so much. Now that I have you, I’m afraid to see you get hurt or messed up, like I was. I’m afraid I’ll lose you, I guess.

I wish you could always be safe. I worry a lot. If you weren’t so damned independent…Ah, well. *smile* As much as we have been through in the past few months, we still don’t know each other very well, do we? I want to change that about us. Do you? I want to know you better. Know what makes you happy and what scares you. And I want you to know that about me, too.

I love you.

I will try to never hurt you again.

I know I’ll screw up. But I’ll keep trying, as long as you let me.

Love, Cabe

Send.

Janie reads.

Swallows hard.

Turns toward him. “I want that too,” she says. She stands up and scoots over onto his lap. Holds him around the neck. His arms circle her waist, and he closes his eyes.

January 10, 2006, 4:00 p.m.

Janie slips into the police station, goes through the metal detector, and heads downstairs.

“Hey, new girl,” says a thirtysomething man when she gets to Captain

Komisky’s door and knocks. “Hannagan, right? Captain said to tell you to go on in. She left you some stuff. I’m Jason Baker. Worked with Cabel on the drug bust.”

Janie smiles. “Pleased to meet you.” She shakes his hand. “Thanks,” she adds, and opens the office door. On the corner of the desk is the tiniest cell phone she’s ever seen, and next to it is a medium-size box and an envelope. The box has a bow on it. She grins and takes the items, then slips back out. When she gets to the car, she examines the gift box and the envelope, savoring it.