Bethany was still nervous about Kyle being in SF, though maybe, she thought, he would have left by now.
As
if it had a way of knowing, her phone burst forth with Kelly Clarkson
again. This time, Bethany hoped it was Krystal telling her Kyle was
home.
It was Krystal—more upset than before.
“Bethany,
have you heard from him? I haven’t! I finally called the SF police and
reported Kyle as missing. They said due to the earthquake they have
several people who could fit Kyle’s description. Well, that isn’t what
I wanted to hear!
“But they said someone needed to go and see the people who might be Kyle--dead people!--to identify him! He might be dead!”
She
was sobbing now. Bethany was hating it all. She knew how much she did
not want what Krystal was going to ask her. But she also knew she too
had to know.
“All right, Krystal. I’ll go. What precinct, what officer, did you talk with?”
“Oh thank you! Oh I hope none of them is Kyle!” Krystal sobbed.
And I hope one is, Bethany thought. I hate it but I do. ………
Christian
told Kim he was off to get his car; once back with wheels, he said, he
had a couple of errands to do and then, if she needed anything, he’d
pick it up on his way back.
Kim
had her own errand to do, and she was glad to have the place to herself
for a short time. There’d been blood again in her urine; she needed to
deal with it.
Ready
to go, Chris took her in his arms for a big hug and kisses. Kim
welcomed him, but somewhere in her nearly subconscious she felt that
each of them had something they weren’t talking about. The feeling
distressed her; she was falling hard.
When he’d gone, she went to the room they were sharing and raised her phone to call her oncologist. …….
Shay
could hardly believe he’d fallen asleep without even finishing his
beer. Musta been really zonked, he thought. But forgetting the beer!
That was a first.
He got up, washed up, and felt much better. Physically.
Okay, he needed to get a handle on the handcuff guy. Who the hell was he? What strangeness had got him killed? Who had killed him? Not a clue about the latter.
He
ate and took off for the precinct. With coffee and a doughnut, actually
two, at his desk, he rang up Missing Persons, gave his credentials, and
was put through to Melba, who listened to his detailed description of
the vic. She asked him to hold on while she took a quick look at the
latest reports.
“We
have two reports that could correspond to your description. A wife on
Divisadero claims she and her husband met for lunch at the Fog City
Diner, then she went home and he went back to his office in the
Transamerica. He never came home for dinner, his office says he didn’t
go there after lunch, and no one seems to have seen him since.
“A
woman in Arizona said her husband flew to SF last week with a return
ticket for four days ago," Melba continued. "She wasn’t awfully worried
until she heard about the earthquake. She gave me the name of a woman
in town who knows her husband and who’s willing to take a look. I
haven’t called Arizona’s local proxy yet.”
Shay thought for a minute. “What happens next?” he asked.
“The
local woman is coming in; she said she’d be here in an hour; that would
be about ten minutes from now, if she’s on time. Indeed, if she turns
up. They don’t always.”
“Right.
Well, if she does turn up shortly, will you let me know? And, if you
don’t mind, I’d like you to bring in the rep for the Arizona person
right away.” ………...
Christian
had a pretty good idea where his car was, once he thought about it.
Somewhere near the club … and there it was. There was a major dent in
the roof over the passenger side back, compliments of the earthquake,
but nothing that should affect its running.
He
climbed in and fired it up. He drove to a Peet’s and ordered a coffee.
Then he pulled out his iPad and searched google for dumps. He chose one
out by the ocean, south of the zoo, memorized the address, finished his
coffee, and set off toward Route 1, the zoo, and the dump.
When
he reached the dump he drove half a mile further, found a commuter
parking lot filled with cars and no people, and pulled in. Before he
ditched the backpack, he needed to know what was in it. He pulled
gloves from his glove compartment and put them on. He retrieved the
backpack from the trunk and opened it. Not much interesting--change of
clothes, six-pack of Anchor Steam, a Diamondbacks hoodie, and, under
the hoodie, guns. In a side pocket, he found several parking tickets, a
ticket stub from the latest Die Hard
flick, and an ID. There were some other papers, sales slips, ads. He
gathered all the papers, including the ID, and put them in a grocery
bag. He put the guns in another bag. He put away his gloves.
Then he left the lot, made a u-turn, and headed for the dump.
The
large site was comprised of many uneven hills of detritus. There was a
narrow road inside the periphery. He drove to the point farthest from a
small building that might house a caretaker.
He
left the car and moved some junk to create a hole. He dropped the
backpack in the hole and moved back the pieces he had displaced; it all
looked pretty much the same as before. Back in his car, he headed to
the city and Bay Street. He’d burn the papers and deal with the guns
later.
The
attendant, who’d noticed the car arrive, lazily watched it leave. He’d
wander back that way later and see what might have been dropped
there. ………..
Usually,
driving was restful for Christian, but not today. En route to Bay
Street, he chose to drive through the Presidio and stopped under a
stand of redwoods to think. The trip to the dump had taken little time.
What about now? The relief he had felt getting rid of the backpack gave
way to pressure: he was neglecting his assignment. He must deal with
Sadegh Zahedi, and there was preparation involved. He could not quit;
there was no quitting.
Why was he even thinking such a word? It was his work. He was well trained for it—he was good
at it; it was meaningful; it made a huge difference for Israel--for the
whole world. For the first time in his life, Christian was seriously
torn: he--no, he couldn’t--but he did. He wanted Kim.
It was a selfish thing.
Tomorrow he would locate Zahedi, he would think it all through, and he would strike a plan.
He left the park and headed toward Shay’s place and Kim.
