Even as she said it, she knew her teammates were right, that they couldn’t do this all night. L.A. wasn’t a sandbox; the wounded lady could be anywhere by now. But, still…it was her own tangled thirst for payback that had injured the innocent bystander, and the more she recalled the thrill of whisking that throwing star at what she thought was a monster, getting it before it got her, the more her self-disgust grew.
The dashboard clock flashed 11:08, each pulse seeping into Dawn with stressful urgency. But when Breisi turned the SUV back toward the office, Dawn knew it was done.
I’d take it back if I could, she kept thinking over and over in useless apology to a woman who’d never hear it.
Wouldn’t I?
The question stabbed at her, a knife point digging toward what she suspected was the truth.
Her weapons were real now: no more stunt fighting, no more movie magic that made the imaginary into a facsimile of life. She’d crossed that line a while ago, but it was only tonight, faced with the wounds she could inflict on a human, that she understood the full impact of drawing blood.
And, someone help her, deep inside she knew she’d do it again if the situation were repeated. She’d do it to get Frank back, and that scared her more than any monster.
Terror lodged in her throat, and when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket, she rushed to grab it.
The call screen read “Matt Lonigan,” and even though Breisi, his biggest fan, was sitting right there, Dawn went ahead and took it. They’d been playing too much phone tag. “Hi.”
“Hey.” He hesitated. “What’s wrong?”
She straightened in her seat, like that would change the flatness of her voice or something. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Breisi glance over, then turn back to the front.
“I’m just tired.” There. The most deflective excuse in the book. It was almost the How are you? / Fine, thank you, how are you? of meaningless exchanges.
A beat passed while he probably thought the same thing. Then, “You sound busy. I was actually expecting your voice mail since it’s pretty late….”
So polite. He often called late, knowing she’d be up. They knew each other’s schedules by now, if nothing else.
“I’m just…” What? Worried about her id? “…puttering around right now.”
From the backseat, Kiko grunted but didn’t say anything.
“Just puttering?” There was a smile in Matt’s voice. “Well, how about that. Me, too.”
“No pressing PI duties tonight?” Her tone was still comatose, but it was improving. He had that effect on her. “No dead bodies to lurk around or shadows to jump out of? You must be at a loss.”
He laughed. “See. I knew I could get you to say something scrappy. For a minute I thought you were in a bad mood. Well, worse than normal.”
What she wouldn’t give to allow him to help her forget. She managed her own smile, then rubbed a hand over her eyes.
“If you’re not doing much,” he said, voice going low, “I have a couple of ideas about how to cheer you up.”
“Cheer? That sounds so…” Impossible. But if that were true, why did it send a blip of interest through her?
They’d reached the Hills by now, pulling in front of their Spanish Revival office. A small sign proclaiming LIMPET AND ASSOCIATES hung over the porch, near the iron cross that guarded the doorway. Like shaded eyes, the circular windows were blocked by iron grating and thick curtains. The red-tiled roof and tan stucco provided caked makeup for the building’s aging face—a Gloria Swanson used-to-be who was creaking into modern times.
As Breisi pulled into the garage and cut the engine, she didn’t make a move to exit. Even Kiko, slowly sitting up in the backseat, wasn’t leaving.
Dawn cleared her throat at them, indicating that, perhaps, some privacy wouldn’t come amiss.
Both coworkers remained rooted. Nosy.
Matt started to say something again, but Dawn stopped him.
“Can I call you back?”
“All right.” He sounded a little baffled.
She hung up. “May I help you two?”
“Besides recovering from tonight, you need to catch up on sleep,” Breisi said. “Things are picking up, so any rest you can get now might help later.”
Kiko joined in. “I think that’s Breez’s way of saying some shut-eye will increase your powers of judgment, Dawn. And you know what? Not a bad idea.”
Dawn got the impression that he’d wanted to add something like “for us both” to the end of his comment. She didn’t remark on this near-apology for getting angry at her and Breisi. No sense in rubbing salt in his sores.
“Are you saying you don’t need me for the rest of the night?” she asked Breisi.
“I’m saying you need to use your time wisely.” The other woman gave a pointed glance toward the phone.
Dawn’s rebellious attitude reared up. “Did it occur to you that I might be able to get a bead on what Matt knows about Jessica Reese’s murder and how it’s connected to Klara’s?”
Breisi opened her mouth, but Kiko beat her.
“If that’s why you wanna go, then go, Dawn. It’s too late to make any other possible interview appointments tonight anyway.”