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Brandy and Inspector Lee perused the file together. When they were done, Brandy settled down in the chair across from Lee and stared at him. “Okay, okay,” he murmured. “You were right. This whole thing stinks like a setup.”

Brandy smiled weakly. “I wish I felt better about it. I’ve got more questions now than I had two hours ago. Like what happened to her family?”

“Or her job,” Lee added. “The woman was a lawyer? She made three times what I do. I can understand Murphy closing all her accounts if she was planning to disappear, but what about the dive in her credit rating? Half of this sounds more like identity theft than anything else.”

Brandy’s phone started vibrating and she glanced at the screen. “It’s my husband,” she said. “I’m late for dinner.”

“Go ahead,” said Lee. “We’re not gonna get anything more done tonight. Meet me here in the morning and we’ll track down her employer. That should give us some insight into what was going on in Sara’s life.”

“Sounds good.” Brandy turned to leave, and then paused inside the doorway. “Lee, I’m sorry I bit your head off earlier. It’s just that I get a little… defensive.”

“No harm done,” he said. “I’m… well, I’m kind of a jerk sometimes. I tend to assume the worst about people. Not just bad guys… I guess I’m kind of a cynic. Don’t let me get under your skin.”

Brandy smiled. She could have left it at that, but she lingered. She felt like she needed to explain herself. “It’s just that… well, my husband is white. My father was white. People look at me and they assume I’m black, but… well, sometimes I feel like I have to defend them, you know? I’ve been on the other side of that…”

He smiled. “It’s alright, I get it. You were right. I feel like an ass.”

Chapter 23

Sara left
Todd’s Diner
at seven and headed north on 29
^th
. She had the sidewalk to herself. It was cold and the sky overhead was a luminescent gray haze, shimmering with the reflection of the city lights. The fog quickened as she walked, and other than the occasional howl of a foghorn on the bay or the momentary wailing of a siren somewhere in the distance, the city was almost
quiet
. Sara felt strangely safe, knowing that she was no more than an anonymous figure in the mist. By the time she reached Sea Cliff, the fog was so thick that Sara could hardly see the sidewalk in front of her.

She had been thinking things over throughout the afternoon, trying to decide the best path to take. She needed to find the killers, but she needed to do it without endangering her family. Sara had decided there was one person who might be able to help her. That person was Jim. Sara knew that Jim wasn’t the most reliable guy, and they hadn’t parted well, but she hoped he would come through for her. After all, they had been good friends once. They had slept together. That had to be worth something. If nothing else, Jim could at least help her get a handle on the situation and figure out what to do next. Sara had nowhere else to turn, and she sure as hell couldn’t fight this thing by herself.

Jim’s place was a gorgeous westside home overlooking China Beach. It was an extremely wealthy neighborhood, one that Sara couldn’t have afforded in her wildest dreams. Most of the area had long since been sold to developers who built condos and apartment complexes, so those few homes that remained were highly prized. How Jim could afford such a place, Sara could only guess. She had always assumed Jim had inherited money, but they’d never discussed it. Being an attorney, Sara knew better than to ask people too many questions about their money.

Sara approached Jim’s house cautiously from the far side of the street. She wanted to make sure the house wasn’t being watched. She strolled down the sidewalk, casually glancing into car windows and scoping out the neighborhood for anything out of place. When she was satisfied -after she’d circled the block and gone up and down the street a few times- Sara went to Jim’s front door and rang the doorbell.

“Yeah?” Jim said as he opened the door. Then he saw Sara’s face and his jaw dropped. His eyes darted up and down the street. Sara pushed past him and into the foyer.

“Don’t worry,” she said, “nobody saw me.”

Jim closed the door and spun around, his mouth still hanging open. “What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Sara said. “I’m sorry. I know what they’re saying but it’s not true. Whatever you heard, it’s not true.”

Jim leaned back against the closed door and looked her up and down. “Okay… I believe you. You’re sure nobody saw you?”

“I circled the block for half an hour. Nobody knows I’m here. You’re perfectly safe.”

“All right. Come on, let’s go back to the bar.”

Leave it to Jim to go straight to the booze. Sara followed him through the house, past the extravagant designer kitchen and into the den. Windows covered the west wall, offering a view of the pool and what would have been the Pacific Ocean if not for the fog. Jim had a flat screen TV on the wall about six feet wide.

“Rum and Coke?” he asked as he poured one for himself. Sara shook her head. Jim tossed the drink back and poured himself another.

“I need your help.” She leaned against the bar and cradled her head in her hands. “I was set up. They did something to me, drugged me or something… I think they’ve got my family.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have any idea how it happened. After I left the gym today, something happened to me. I woke up on that roof and saw them shoot Fortress. Then they called me and said I had to go to them. They said the police would think I was a terrorist.” Sara’s voice trembled as she spoke. She told herself not to cry, that she needed to be strong. It didn’t work.

Jim stepped around the bar and put his arms around her. Sara fell into him. He stroked her hair and held her, and Sara couldn’t help sobbing.

“They called you?” he said.

“Yes, on my cell phone. They said they’d changed my police record.”

Jim mulled that over. “The news said you were on the roof of Tiffany’s with a gun,” he said.

“It’s true,” Sara admitted. “I don’t even know how I got there. I didn’t shoot him though, I swear. You know me, Jim. I’ve never shot a gun in my life.”

“I know… So you think someone drugged you?”

She pulled away. Sara rested her elbows on the bar, supporting her head in her hands. She closed her eyes and scanned through the blurred memories. “I don’t know. My mind’s a blank. The last thing I remember, I was going to meet you and Steve for lunch. I left the gym, and the next thing I knew I was on the roof, and Fortress was dead. I heard the gunshot and I looked down and saw him.”

“So you had some kind of blackout?”

“I don’t know. I can remember everything else. It started just like every other day. I made breakfast for Scott and Bree. I packed her lunch. I kissed them goodbye and I went to work. And then everything fell apart.

“Scott and Bree?” Jim said. “Did Scott move back in?”

Sara had been massaging her temples. She stopped and raised her head. She locked eyes with Jim. “What do you mean?”

Jim’s eyebrows went up and his hand went for the bottle. “Sara, I heard you were messed up, but I had no idea… Scott left you months ago. You do remember that, don’t you?”

Chapter 24

John Lee’s phone buzzed just seconds after Brandy had left for the evening. He was standing at the window, already wearing his coat, and his computer was in the process of shutting down.

“Inspector?” said the secretary’s trebly voice. “Can you take a call?”

“I’m just on my way out.”

“It may be important, sir. It’s the Chief.”

John sighed and settled back into his chair. “Put him through.”

The phone rang and the inspector reluctantly lifted the receiver to his ear. “Evening, Chief Daly. You’re working late.” He cringed, waiting for the inevitable ass-chewing.

“Yes, it’s good to see that you’re working late too, John. Unfortunately, that also seems to mean that we don’t have anyone in custody yet?”

“No sir, but we’re on it. We’re getting very close. We know who the suspect is; we’ve got a room full of evidence. She’s on the run right now but we know she’s in the city, so it won’t be long.”

“She? Are you saying the shooter is a woman?”

“Yes sir, it looks that way.”

“I’ll be damned.”

There was a moment of quiet, during which Inspector Lee actually thought he might have earned himself a reprieve. He was wrong. “Well what the hell are you waiting for? Why are you sitting on your ass in the office when we’ve got a maniac loose on the streets?”

“I’m on it, sir-”

“Don’t even try that with me, Inspector. I’ve heard what’s been going on today. A fifty-car pile-up on the Gate, a roadblock that ended up putting three badges in the hospital… this town’s falling apart, goddammit!”

“I know sir, but-”

“Do you know who I just got off the phone with? The governor! And he’s getting pressure from D.C.! Do you know what that means?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I thought so, dammit. How the hell am I supposed to find a new golf partner at this hour?”

“I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Damn right you are. You just forfeited your deposit.”

Chapter 25

Jim’s statement was a bombshell. Sara felt something inside of her breaking. She felt dizzy, like the world was tilting away. She steadied herself against the bar. “I saw Scott today,” she said. “I slept with him last night. Scott didn’t leave. He wouldn’t leave me.” She spoke the words for her own benefit, not for Jim’s. Her voice sounded hollow, unconvincing. Suddenly she wasn’t sure.

Sara remembered saying goodbye to Scott that morning. She could remember it clear as day. In fact, she could remember doing the same thing every single day for weeks. It was the same thing, every single day. Lunch for Bree, coffee for Scott…

The thought gave her a start. Was there any difference between this morning and yesterday? Once she thought about it, Sara realized she couldn’t tell. Could every day possibly have been exactly the same? She felt like her sanity was slipping away. Or worse, like she was experiencing a moment of lucidity in the midst of a dementia that would swallow her whole. Was it possible that her entire life had been a fantasy? Could she have snapped, and spent months living in a delusion?

“You lost it when Scott left,” Jim said as if in answer to her thoughts. “I think you were on some kind of medication for a while, something to help you deal with the stress. I knew you were in bad shape. I didn’t know it was like this, though. I would’ve gotten you some help.”

Sara was trembling. Her chest was tight and tears streamed down her cheeks. “Do you know where he is?” she said. “Can I call him?” Her voice broke as she spoke, and Sara realized she was crying again. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket.

Jim put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find him,” he promised. “We’ll find Scott and Bree, and we’ll get all of this sorted out. Tell you what, you can sleep here. You’ll be safe here. Tomorrow morning I’ll make some phone calls and find out where Scott is, okay?”

Sara nodded dumbly. She didn’t remember Scott leaving. She sure as hell didn’t remember being on any medication. It was getting harder and harder to keep her grip on reality. Sara was beginning to wonder if she actually
had
shot Fortress. She couldn’t have, though. She hadn’t even been holding the gun when it happened. But if all of her other memories were false, then how could she trust that one? Maybe she really was a murderer.

“Come on,” said Jim. “This whole thing has got you upside down. You can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the sofa tonight.” He led the way back through the kitchen and down a long hall. Sara followed him like a frightened child.

Jim’s bedroom was bigger than Sara’s living room. He had yet another giant screen TV on the wall. His bed was an enormous hardwood monstrosity of a canopy bed. The furniture and desk were matching hand-carved mahogany. Double French doors on the west wall opened onto a stone-tiled patio with a hot tub.

“There are some sleeping pills on the nightstand,” Jim said. “Take a couple. They’ll put you right out. I guarantee you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Thanks,” Sara said. Jim smiled and closed the door.

Sara dropped onto the bed. She didn’t undress or even cover herself. She just lay there, gazing though the French doors at the fog swirling in the darkness. The mattress was soft and pillowy, the comforter cool against her body. Sara felt herself sinking and her head started to spin, so she closed her eyes. She would just rest for a few minutes, just enough to get her head straight. She didn’t mean to fall asleep. She hadn’t even taken her shoes off.

Sara had a brief but intense dream. It began on her front porch of her home. She waved as Bree got on the bus, and then she walked inside the house. Everything had changed. It looked the way she had seen it that afternoon, vandalized and littered, except that the walls had been splattered with blood and the place stank of putrefaction and death. Sara saw a body lying on the floor and she knew it was Fortress. She covered her mouth, horrified. She nudged the body with her toe. The body moved.

Fortress rolled over and smiled at her, and Sara screamed. Flies swarmed around his head. He crawled to his feet and started talking. “Have you read the Constitution?” he said. “Do you know your rights?” Part of his skull was gone and Sara could see his brains oozing out of the side of his head. Blood trickled down his face and over his clothes. His eyes were wide, intense, his lips moving as fast as he could talk, like a lawyer at an office party who’d sniffed more cocaine than he could handle. Words streamed out of his mouth but Sara couldn’t follow the erratic speech.
Freedom. Liberty. Slaves of the New World.
What did it mean?

Then suddenly Scott was standing in front of her. He was covered in blood from some unseen wound, and he held a birthday cake with lit candles. “Happy Birthday,” he said. “Do you want some cake?”