We Know

I grabbed the screwdriver next to my disassembled home telephone, then tentatively rounded the counter and regarded the Nokia, working up my courage for the five-step approach. Finally I picked up the phone. It shrilled in my hand, putting a charge into my heart rate, and I dropped it and stumbled back, tripping over a cereal box. Through the V of my bare feet, I watched the angry, clattering Nokia until it silenced. Then I pounced on it, using the Phillips-head to crack the cheap plastic casing. I sorted through the electrical entrails and the battery compartment but found nothing resembling C-4. The wires had come loose from the circuit board, and I stared at the broken unit, dismayed. I'd likely just dismembered my best chance to find out what the hell was going on.

My name and address were typed on the packing slip, but the sender information remained blank. No account number. The envelope boasted of same-day service. I called DHL from my cell phone and, after a costly wait, determined that the package had been dropped off at a Mailboxes N More on Lincoln first thing this morning. When I reached the store, the owner was indignant that I'd believe his business to be so sluggish that he'd remember an individual customer. The paperwork, of course, showed that the sender had paid cash.

The store was a few miles from my place. The sender had known to call the Nokia immediately after it was delivered, which meant he was watching.

I took the disemboweled phone downstairs and set it on the square of lawn in front of my apartment, near the curb so it was visible from my bedroom window. Then I set up camp with a cup of instant coffee and my binoculars by the vertical blinds in my bedroom. The lenses aimed through a sliver of light, I sat on my chair until my ass grew numb. Facing windows, parked cars, passersby-nothing seemed out of the ordinary. A Labradoodle sniffed at the phone casing and found it not worth his interest. A skateboarder stopped to examine the tangle of wires before passing on. By one o'clock my bladder had reached bursting point and caffeine had my stomach roiling. Finally a big white truck pulled over in front of my building and the driver ambled up the walk. In the core of the building, the elevator whirred to life.

A few moments later, my doorbell rang.

Gratefully, I rose, my lower back and knees aching. The same delivery guy smiled the same grin and handed me the same padded envelope. I signed Pepe Le Pew and thanked him.

A transparent Nokia slid out from the box, a tweenie model designed to show off the electronic entrails. I felt understood.

It rang within seconds, and I clicked the green button. "Hello?"

A gruff voice I didn't recognize said, "I have something you want. The Hyatt on Sunset, West Hollywood. Mezzanine level. Show up at seven. Alone. Do not come earlier. Do not tell anyone you're coming. I'm watching you. Do you need me to repeat any of this information?"

"No. Are you the one who took pictures of me-"

"Seven o'clock."

The line went dead.

Chapter 22

Emily answered the door and scowled at me. "We gave at the office."

"Is Callie here?" I asked.

She pointed to the bronze placard screwed into the wall. "No solicitors."

"Where's Callie?"

"Sorry, we're full up on drama this week." Under my steady gaze, she finally broke eye contact, popping her jaw. "At work."

I was surprised. "Where's she work?"

"Gallery."

"Why are you home?"

"Assembly day. Drug awareness. They're teaching us to 'just say no.' I've perfected saying no, so I figured I'd take a pass."

"I just need to get something from the attic."

She held out her arms as if preparing for an aria. Her moth-eaten maroon sweater had baggy sleeves that turned her arms into wings. She cleared her throat, readying her instrument. 'Wo." A fake smile. "I told you."

"Why not?"

"My dad said not to let you in if you came back."

"Look, I just need to look through the boxes in the attic one more time. Then I'll leave you alone."

"Tempting offer." She thought for a moment, then waved me in.

I followed her up the stairs. "What was it like running away forever?" she asked over her shoulder.

"It was a weird situation."

"Still. Sounds heavenly."

" 'Heavenly.' Eight letters across, twelve points."

She smirked. "Seventeen points. Or sixty-seven with the bingo bonus, plus more cuz you'd cross at least one premium square."

"Uncle." I held up my hands, ceding point, set, and match. Then I asked, "It's really that bad?

Living here?"

"I liked my old school. My old friends. Our old house. Just me and my dad. Your mom's all uptight about wiping the counters and stuff. And they're so gross together. All kissy and stuff. Who wants to be around that?"

Not me.