Лиза Макманн - Fade

Captain turns to Janie.

“Tonight is not the night to get sucked into any drunk person’s dream.

Try and steer clear if you can. If you can’t, we’ll deal with that later. I do understand you can’t control the actions of other people, so don’t panic if it happens and you get stuck.”

Janie nods.

“And be safe. Follow your gut. You’re smart. You have a terrific sense of intuition. Use it like you have in the past, and we’ll all walk away just fine. All right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Any questions?”

“No.”

“Good. Call me if you think of any,” Captain says. “And, Janie, I have never been more serious. Use that panic lighter if you need it. Don’t be a martyr and don’t think you can handle this job alone. We work as a team. Got it?”

“Got it. I’m ready, sir.”

“And a reminder. This could be nothing more than just an ordinary party. Our goal is to find and arrest a sexual predator. Not to bust the guy for serving a few drinks to minors. We can always get him next time for that. Like I said, use your intuition and judgment.”

“I will.”

“Cabel. Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Get on out of here, then. I’ll see you sometime in the next twenty-four hours, I expect. Damn, I hate this job.”

10:09 a.m.

Janie makes her crème-de-menthe bars and puts them in the refrigerator, and then makes lunch. Cabel stops by and mopes around uselessly, unable to talk about anything. Janie finally sends him away.

“Be careful, baby,” he says, kissing the top of her head.

Janie’s quiet.

And he’s gone.

2:32 p.m.

Janie lights her relaxation votive candle and sits still on her bed, clearing her mind, meditating. Preparing herself. She mentally runs through her profile sheets. All the events that led up to today. And then her mind strays to Stacey’s car dream. She goes through it, step by step. She knows there’s a connection between the dream and Mr.

Durbin, but how? Did Mr. Durbin actually rape her? Janie thinks about

Lauren. Wishes she could have focused on the faces in her party dream, but they were blurred beyond recognition. And if Lauren has nightmares about the party, why doesn’t she have qualms or reservations or downright contempt for the host? Why didn’t the anonymous caller follow up with another call to Crimebusters

Underground?

She dozes for an hour, asking herself to figure out the connection between the dreams and this party tonight.

Herself says no.

When she wakes up, Janie takes a shower and puts on tight jeans and a low-cut V-neck sweater. She adds a hint of makeup and ties her hair back, low, in a ribbon, leaving a few wisps out to frame her face. She grabs a snack and a glass of milk, making quick work of them, and brushes her teeth. Puts on some lip gloss.

It’s showtime.

5:57 p.m.

“I’m pulling up to the house. I’ll see you after,” Janie says.

“If you get a chance to call me…safely…you know…” Cabel’s voice is anxious.

“I will if I can. Love you, Cabe.”

“Love you, Janie. Be safe.”

They hang up. It’s a warm night for early March, and the snow is gone, leaving muddy yards, puddles, and potholes everywhere. Janie parks on the street, double-checks her pockets, grabs her dessert, and takes a deep breath, then strips off her coat and tosses it on the passenger seat next to her. Never hurts to have an excuse to get out of the house. She bought a pack of cigarettes earlier and leaves them in the coat pocket.

Janie closes her eyes momentarily, gets into her character, and gets out of her car. She sees the tail end of Baker’s “soccer-mom” minivan down the street, and he flashes the brake lights at her. For some reason that makes her feel tremendously more confident, and she smiles in his direction, knowing he can see her with his high-powered binoculars.

Cobb is stationed on the next street, with a partial view of the back of the house. She doesn’t look for Cabel, but she knows where he isaround the corner.

She slams her car door and walks up the driveway to Mr. Durbin’s front steps, hoping Stacey shows up soon. She knocks and hears footsteps. Mr. Durbin opens the door and ushers her in.

“Hey, Janie,” he says, letting her in and closing the door behind her.

“Looking good, Mr. Durbin,” Janie says with a grin, glancing around.

He’s rearranged the furniture, set up extra folding chairs, and added two card tables to the great-room area.

“You too, Janie,” he says, looking her up and down. “You can call me

Dave outside of school, you know.”

She turns and gives him her full attention, and watches his eyes move to her chest. “Dave,” she repeats. “I should probably keep this refrigerated,” she says, indicating her dessert. “Mind if I poke around your kitchen so I know where to find things? I figure I can help you out with the food and drink distribution once everybody gets here.”

“Be my guest,” he says. Not a hint of apprehension.

Strike one, Janie thinks. He follows her and shows Janie where he keeps extra dishes, glasses, silverware, and napkins.

“The fridge is packed pretty tightly,” he says, “but there’s room on the bottom shelf, if you move a few beer bottles around.” He stands behind her while she bends over and shoves her dessert inside. “You want a beer or something? I’m making punch, too.”

“Are you having one?” she asks.

“Sure.”

On the fridge, holding—what else?—two snapshots of Mr. Durbin himself, is a magnet. The magnet, with the Fieldridge Crimebusters hotline number. Janie’s heart pounds. He screwed himself, she realizes, thinking of the blurred, anonymous person in the kitchen, making the call.

Swiftly, Janie pulls out two bottles of beer and Durbin shows her where the bottle opener is, when from the hallway comes none other than Mr. Wang. He’s barefooted and his hair is wet.

“Mr. Wang,” Janie says, controlling her surprise. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Ms. Hannagan,” he says with a nod.

Mr. Durbin grins. “So formal, you two. Chris, Janie,” he says. “Janie, you want to grab a beer for Chris? I’ve got to get this punch going.

Chris came early to help me with the tables and chairs, and then we ended up in a rather competitive game of one-on-one. Basketball,” he adds.

“I see. Well it’s very nice to see you, uh, Chris.” She winks and he looks nervous.

“Likewise, Janie.”

Janie hands Mr. Wang a beer. He looks around the room to see what needs to be done, and finally, rather helplessly, he goes to the stereo and starts rummaging through the CDs. “I’ll take my usual spot as the

DJ,” he says.

The doorbell rings, and Stacey lets herself in with a shriek of “Woo hoo!” Janie raises her eyebrow.

“Hey, Stacey,” Janie says when Stacey brings her Crock-Pot to the kitchen’s island.

“Janie!” Stacey smells like beer already. “Are you ready to party?”

Mr. Wang has Coldplay on now, and he cranks the volume. “Now I am,” Janie says, holding up her beer. Wonders how wild the party has to get before Mr. Wang moves to hip-hop.

She takes the paper cups and beverage napkins to the great room, where Mr. Durbin is pouring a bottle of cranberry juice into a punch bowl that already has a clear liquid in it. He adds a bottle of Ruby Red Squirt to the mixture as Janie sets up the table display, and then he goes to the sink to get an ice ring, and plops that in as well.

Janie opens the package of napkins and lays them out in a spiral design. “What goes on the other table?” she asks.

Mr. Durbin stirs the punch with a ladle. “I figured we’d put some munchies out there. You want to be in charge of keeping that going?”