California Fire And Life

90

Letty's at home when the phone rings.

She picks it up; it's a teenager's voice.

"I want to talk with you," he says.

Slight Asian accent.

It's Tony Ky, the wiseass from the chop shop.

"What about?" Letty asks.

She's knows what it's about, but she has to play the game.

There's a hesitation, then the kid whispers, "Tranh and Do."

So, Letty thinks, I guess Uncle Nguyen is feeling the heat.

"Come into the station," she says, just to set a bargaining position.

The kid almost laughs. "No, someplace…"

"Isolated?" Letty asks, with this edge in her voice that's like Go to class.

"Yeah, isolated."

"You have a ride?"

"Yeah, I have a ride."

She tells him about a turnoff on the Ortega. A picnic spot and hiking trail into the Cleveland National Forest. Park your ride under the trees, walk up the trail a ways.

"Be there at seven," she says.

"In the morning?"

"Yeah, learn how to get up," she says.

She hangs up, brushes her teeth, brushes her hair, does all the cream-and-lotion jazz, and gets into bed with a book and an intent to turn the light out soon.

Hard to get to sleep.

A lot on her mind.

Pam.

Pam's murder.

Natalie and Michael.

And son of a bitch Jack Wade.

Twelve years, Letty thinks. You'd think that you could take what happened twelve years ago and put it away.

But you can't.