When It All Comes Down to Dust (Phoenix Noir Book 3) (23 page)

Laura stood there for a while. She looked at the sky, and at the building around her. She thought about how Frank was feeling the same desert air that she was feeling right now, unless he had gone somewhere else with the girl – but she somehow knew that he hadn’t.

She realized that men were noticing her standing outside by herself, and were checking her out, so she went inside the club. Pat asked her what was wrong, and she just said that she and David had fallen out and that she didn’t want to talk about it. Pat had a date, so he didn’t have the opportunity to press her.

Laura sat at the bar, drank beer and listened to Big Pete play. A man tapped her shoulder. She turned around and looked at him blankly.

“Remember me?” he said.

“No,” she said, though he did look vaguely familiar.

“I met you at the Emerald Lounge back in the summer. I asked you for your number, and you didn’t give it to me, but you told me to give you mine.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember.”

He smiled. “I guess you decided not to call me. That’s cool. Just thought I’d say hi.”

“Sorry. I ended up dating somebody just after I met you.”

“Ah. That’s not so hard on my pride. Would you have called me otherwise?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“Tell me your name again.”

“Laura.”

“Bet you don’t remember mine.”

“Right.”

“Ben.”

“Hi.”

They made a show of shaking hands.

When midnight came, and the club erupted in cheers, Laura and Ben were still sitting together. They turned to each other, said “Happy New Year,” hugged and kissed. The first kiss was light, then they kissed again, more firmly, and their tongues touched. When Laura drove home, Ben was in the car with her.

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H
e was smart and funny and he knew how to fuck, and he was a stranger and he only knew whatever she told him, so she should have been coming and coming, but she didn’t, not even when he did her favorite thing, stuck a finger in her ass as he licked her clit. She kept thinking she was going to, and knowing she should, and then knowing that she wasn’t, and finally she pretended to anyway.

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S
he woke at seven in the morning. Ben was still asleep. The memory of what they had done made her wet, and she thought about waking him up for more. Instead, she slipped out of bed, went and fed Tubby Franklin, then brewed coffee. She put on jeans and a T-shirt, fixed her hair in a pony tail, then woke Ben and handed him a cup of coffee.

“I’m gonna have to give you a ride back to your car soon,” she said. “I’ve got some stuff to do.”

“Okay,” he said. “I think this is the earliest I’ve ever gotten up on New Year’s Day.”

“Sorry. I wish I could hang out, but I have stuff to do.”

“Mind if I ask what?”

“Not if you don’t mind me not wanting to talk about it.”

“Oh. Okay.” He drank some coffee.

“I’d offer you some breakfast, but I don’t really have anything.”

“That’s okay. I’m not really hungry.”

He got dressed while Laura put on sunscreen and a pair of sunglasses. As they drove back to the Rhythm Room, where he’d left his car, he said, “I’d like to hang out again soon.”

Laura didn’t say anything.

“I guess not, huh?” Ben said.

“Sorry,” Laura said.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you were great.” She parked the car next to his, then touched his face. “I’m just not in good shape right now.” She kissed him.

“Thanks for being straight with me,” he said. “You’re really cool. I wish – ah, nothing.” He kissed her on the cheek, then got out of the car. She could see the sadness on his face as he unlocked his car door. He just wants what everybody wants, she thought – somebody to give a damn. You can’t blame anybody for that.

She drove to a Circle K and bought two granola bars and a bottle of water. She ate the granola, drank half of the water, and then drove to her old school.

She sat in the car and looked at it for a while. Then she got out and walked to the main door of the building. She tried the door, even though she knew it would be locked, and it was. She pictured Mr. Crossan’s car pulling up, him getting out, coming towards her.

She got back in her car and drove to Encanto Park. She walked around, sat under a certain tree, went and sat on a picnic bench at Kiddie Land, which was closed. Then she drove across town to where the drive-in had been. She didn’t go in, just drove around it a few times.

The Bad Boy Apartments were still there. She went there, parked, and walked around until she found Frank’s old apartment. She stood outside, looking at the window she had put her feet through. She stood there and looked until she saw somebody moving around inside, and realized that she was probably freaking them out by staring in their window. She raised an apologetic hand, turned and walked away.

Then she drove to David’s house.

She knocked on the door, then pounded on it. When there was no answer after a half-minute, she pounded again. His car was in the driveway, but maybe he had gotten a ride somewhere with somebody else. She started to walk to her car. From behind her, she heard David call, “Hey.”

She turned, and saw him standing in the doorway. He was dripping wet, and wearing only boxers. She stood there in the sun and looked at him.

“Hey,” he said again. She still didn’t reply. “I was in the shower. I looked out the window and saw it was you. Come on in.”

She shook her head, still didn’t say anything.

“So, we gonna just stand here and stare at each other? Let me put some clothes on and get you a drink or something.”

“No, listen,” she said as he turned to go back inside. He stopped. “I want to tell you something,” she said.

“Cool. Come on in and tell me.”

“No, listen. I just want to tell you now...”

“Okay.”

“I realized something. I don’t even know what it means, but I never felt for anybody like I feel for you.”

He started to say something, then didn’t.

“I’ve been thinking about you, but not like I’d be thinking about somebody I’d just broken up with. It’s been different.” She started to cry, held it back, and then felt the tears boil, overflow and spill. “I love you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“I know,” she said. “I know. But...” She was sobbing now. “I realized that even if you never talked to me again, I want you to be okay. I kept thinking about all the bad shit that goes down in this city, and just wanting none of it to happen to you. Oh, God. I just kept thinking about how I want your life to be good, and if you want nothing to do with me, okay, just as long as you’re okay, because –”

“Laura...”

“Because – I don’t even know –”

“Laura, shut the hell up for once in your life.” He came off the porch, came to her and put his arms around her. She held on to him and cried so hard it was like she was yelling. They stood there holding each other as the sun scorched his bare skin. Eventually, her crying faded away.

“I’m lonely,” she said.

“So am I.”

“I’m gonna go now.”

“Don’t. Come into the house.”

“No, not now. I have to go get my head around all this.”

He laughed. “Me too, I guess.” He took a step back and looked at her. “I assume it’s okay for me to call you?”

She wiped her face with her hands. “Yeah. Will you?”

“Yeah. Okay, get out of here. I’m gonna go inside before I get skin cancer.”

As she walked away, he called after her, “You know I love you, too.”

She looked around and smiled at him. He watched her get in her car and drive away.

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I
n her apartment, Laura drank beer and made phone calls to cops. She didn’t find out anything she didn’t already know. The girl was missing, and Frank hadn’t shown up at the halfway house or at his job in a couple weeks. It wasn’t seen as a homicide investigation, because Frank had never been charged with a homicide, and it wasn’t even certain that the girl hadn’t run away with him voluntarily.

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F
rank was trying to make the girl eat, but she wouldn’t, and when he tried to force her she threw up. He thought about Casey.

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T
here was nothing Laura could do. No government buildings would be open until tomorrow. The cops were searching for Frank, his image was on the T.V. news, and there was nothing left except for prayer.

Laura didn’t pray. She drank but didn’t get drunk. She kept the radio on in case there was anything in the news, and she thought about how much she loved her cat and how much she loved David.

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T
he girl wouldn’t stop screaming. Frank held her hair and swung the hammer as hard as he could, and then it wasn’t as bad, it was okay, because now she wasn’t screaming, she wasn’t crying, now she wasn’t a girl, now she was just wet meat.

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L
aura didn’t think she’d be able to sleep, but she started to doze off as she sat at her dining table eating a grilled cheese sandwich and drinking a beer. She set the alarm clock for six in the morning and went to bed.

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F
rank wrapped the meat in plastic. He took a shower, scrubbed himself clean, put on clean clothes. He put the meat in his car and tried to take it to the place where he’d left Casey, but the city had grown and covered it up, and he had to drive and drive and drive before he found some desert.

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W
hen the alarm clock woke Laura, she didn’t feel hungry, but she knew she ought to eat breakfast. She fried bacon and eggs and ate them with toast and a pot of coffee. She took a shower, dried her hair, put on a white shirt and her best suit, which had a jacket that neatly covered the 44 she holstered to the belt of her pants. At eight o’clock, she was driving into town, and she used her cell phone to call into work and say she was sick and wouldn’t be coming in today.

All morning, and well into the afternoon, she went from government office to government office, looking at public records. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but the work she’d done for Bob Headman had taught her that if you look long and hard enough, you can find information that will lead you to whatever you want to know about anyone. She didn’t need to know what she was looking for, because she recognized it when she found it.

She thought about calling the police and giving them the information, but she didn’t want to. She told herself that she would be just as fast.

In the late afternoon, she drove East, out of Phoenix, through Tempe, through Mesa, to Apache Junction. As she drove, she looked at the desert, wondering if a girl’s body was lying out there, mummifying in the sun.

She found a bare lot, with a trailer on it and a car parked outside the trailer. It wasn’t the car that was registered to Frank.

She went to the door of the trailer and knocked. As she heard someone come to answer it, she took a deep breath, forced her body to relax, took a couple steps backwards and put a hand under her jacket so she could get to her gun.

The guy who opened the door was in his late fifties or early sixties, wearing cargo pants and a sweatshirt. He was barefoot and had a can of Coke in his hand. He looked at her but didn’t speak.

“I’m looking for Frank del Rio,” she said. “Does he live here?”

The guy shook his head. “No, I live here by myself.”

“Do you have any idea where Frank is?”

“I don’t know him. Never heard of him.”

“You know his mother.”

“No. I don’t.”

“His mother owns this lot. Or rather she did. She died a few weeks ago, so now it’s Frank’s.”

“I don’t know her. I just rent it.”

“Who from?”

“Some guy. I don’t know his name.”

“You don’t know the name of the guy you rent from?”

“That’s right.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You’re a liar.”

“What are you calling me names for? I ain’t done nothing to you.”

“You either stop lying and talk to me or you can talk to the cops.” She took out her cell phone. “Want me to call them right now?”

“No.” His voice had lost its angry tone and now had a whiny note. “Look, okay, I’ll talk to you, Laura. Just don’t make trouble for me...”

“Okay.” She put the phone in her pocket, then froze. “Wait. How do you know my name?”

They looked at each other, and then he punched her hard in the face. It spun her around and sent her staggering, but she managed to stay on her feet. Another punch, just as hard, sent her into the dirt.

He was on top of her, punching her with both hands. In spite of his age, he had a strength from years of manual labor that cigarettes and alcohol hadn’t managed to weaken. Laura tasted blood, and felt herself slip away.

Not sure if she was dead or just unconscious, he stood up and let himself rest before trying to carry her into the trailer. When he bent down to touch her, he saw her start to move. He threw himself at her, but she twisted away, pulled a gun from under her jacket and stuck it in his face.

She said something, but her mouth was so torn and swollen that he couldn’t understand it. She cocked the gun, and he backed away from her with his hands up. She spat out blood, clenched her broken teeth and said, “Get in the trailer.”

The living room was dirty, furnished with old carpet, a small T.V. and an ancient couch. “Lie down on the floor. On your stomach,” she said. The guy obeyed. “Spread your arms out, palms down.” He did.

Laura took a cushion from the couch, shoved it into the back of the guy’s head, shoved the gun into the pillow and squeezed the trigger.

She sat on the couch. The guy lay there on the floor and twitched and gurgled for quite a while. Then he stopped. She didn’t know if that meant he was dead, and she didn’t care.

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I
t was eight in the evening, dark, when Frank got back to the trailer. Everything looked all right. Tommy’s car was parked outside, and the light was on in the living room. Frank opened the door and went in.