Freezing

EIGHT

Jayne went into the Agency’s laboratory to put away the biometric equipment they’d used to measure the X-ray images Tony Lee had printed at Critter Central. Steelie was booting up the lab computer. After it whirred to life and executed a few beeps, she said, ‘Check it out. Our first message via the All Coroners Bulletin. From a coroner in Anchorage about Thomas Cullen.’

Jayne pulled up a stool and read the couple of paragraphs, whose font was all capitals. Then she translated, ‘The coroner’s saying that they have a John Doe with a projectile in the sphenoid but they have his cause of death down as GSW with that bullet as the projectile that caused death? So . . . they don’t think it’s Cullen but they’re notifying us as a courtesy?’

Steelie nodded. ‘Looks like they ascribed the bullet to a more recent gunshot, not an old bullet that was sitting in his head for years.’

Jayne pushed back from the desk and frowned. ‘But how could they confuse the two?’

Steelie shrugged. ‘Maybe they didn’t. Maybe it’s not Thomas Cullen but rather some guy who actually died from shooting himself the same way.’

Jayne looked back at the coroner’s message. ‘It’s a decent match on the identifiers though . . . Caucasoid male, forty years plus or minus five, five-foot-nine plus or minus two, dark brown head hair, eyes brown, picked up in nineteen ninety-eight . . .’

‘So he’s a forty-year-old white guy with brown hair and eyes, no known scars, marks or tattoos. No wonder they’ve never had any hits in NCIC; there’s almost nothing there to discriminate between him and thousands of other missing men. Doesn’t mean it’s Cullen, that’s all I’m saying. They could be right and it’s a different guy.’

‘Send them another message.’

‘I’m going to. I will encourage them, in polite language, to compare any X-rays they’ve got with the one we digitized. They haven’t done that yet.’

Jayne got up. ‘OK, I’m going to write up the report on the BP’s for Scott and Eric. Let me know if you hear anything.’

By the time Steelie came to Jayne’s office, she was tidying the papers on her desk at the end of the day.

‘Did you get an acknowledgment from Tony on our report?’

‘Yes and he said he’d make sure Scott and Eric saw it when they got back.’

‘Which was when?’

‘God knows.’

Steelie perched on the edge of the desk. ‘So where are you meeting Gene tonight?’

‘They put him up at the Omni—’

‘Who’s “they”?’

‘His company, I guess. So I’m picking him up—’

‘He doesn’t have a rental?’

‘No . . .’ She waited for Steelie to interrupt again but she didn’t. ‘And we’re going to eat in Little Tokyo.’

‘Which restaurant?’

Jayne stopped pulling the papers together. ‘I don’t know. We agreed to walk around, see what takes our fancy. If you’re so curious, why don’t you come too?’

Steelie gave a little shudder. ‘I hear your cry for help and yet I am not moved.’ She went out the door, then stuck her head back around it. ‘But call me when you get home afterwards.’

Jayne nodded. She finished at her desk, closed up the building, and left. At home, she changed clothes and put on mascara and lip gloss, realizing that the last time she’d seen Gene, they’d been at Kigali Airport in Rwanda almost a decade earlier. She’d still had a pair of well-used leather gloves sticking out of the back pocket of her cargo pants even though she and Steelie were leaving the mission in a matter of hours. He’d been wearing dusty boots, on his way to UN HQ, staying in the mission for another six months as he’d joined the team late, on loan from the FBI Lab. She belatedly wondered if she’d recognize him now and was glad he’d suggested the rear entrance of the hotel, which was quieter and he’d be easier to spot. Glancing at her watch, she picked up her bag and went out to her truck, making a mental note to stop by the Home Depot eventually to purchase new plants for her porch. She would have to do more than just sweep up the mess of broken pottery left by bumbling critters the night before.

The traffic on Sunset was still heavy but the evening’s milder temperatures were layering in and Jayne drove with the windows down, listening to an Oscar Peterson compilation but not minding hearing music from nearby cars as they idled next to each other along the boulevard. Keeping to surface streets, she turned right on Grand, passed the new cathedral, and made her way to Olive, starting the descent toward the heart of Downtown.

She pulled into the Omni Hotel’s curved driveway, its facade looming skyward, dwarfing the people gathered at the curb. A young valet made eye contact with her, raising his hand interrogatively but she shook her head as she drove past him slowly, scanning faces. When she had made the full circuit of the driveway, she pulled to the curb in front of a taxi and twisted in her seat to look for Gene out the back window. Just then, her passenger door swung open and a man dressed entirely in beige leapt in beside her as she pulled her bag to safety.

‘Christ, Gene, you gave me a fright!’

‘Sorry, I was afraid you were going to drive off without me.’

He leaned over the bench seat and gave her an awkward sideways hug, the zipper of his windbreaker scraping against her cheek. When they released each other, she looked at him and was glad he’d spotted her because she might not have recognized him after all. His blond hair was turning white and his cheeks seemed to droop, which changed the shape of his face altogether. His long body was still lanky, which gave him a certain youthfulness but his pale eyes were as penetrating as ever, their dot-like pupils making it seem as though he were focused on and displeased with whatever he was looking at. But his smile transformed everything, as it always had.

‘So, how the hell are ya, Jayne Hall?’

His exuberance was infectious and she laughed. ‘Not bad, thanks. How was your flight?’

‘Hey, when it’s business class, it’s always good.’

She gave him an admiring glance. ‘Nice.’ She pulled away from the hotel and headed back the way she came, then turned right on Tom Bradley Boulevard toward Little Tokyo. ‘So, what brings you here in business class?’

‘I’ve been working for an electronics company that’s now looking to open a West Coast office. Sent me out here to take a couple of meetings, get the lay of the land. I won’t bore you with the details.’

‘But when did you leave the FBI Lab?’

‘Years ago.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘Hey, how much of your life do you want to spend dealing with crime and criminals?’

She glanced at him with interest. ‘You miss anything from those days?’

‘Nope! The job I have now is dull and that’s the way I like it. I can get my excitement elsewhere. Seeing you and Steelie is the highlight of this trip. Speaking of which, is she meeting us at the restaurant?’

Jayne was parking at a meter. She raised her voice over the passing traffic as she got out of the truck. ‘She couldn’t come tonight. Pretty busy this week.’

Gene waited until she’d joined him on the sidewalk. ‘She still mad at me, then?’

She gave him an embarrassed grin and started walking.

‘Argh!’ He threw his hands up in the air and caught up with her. ‘How long can someone hold a grudge for God’s sake! It’s been almost ten years.’

‘She’s like an elephant; she never forgets.’

‘And now you two are running this charity. How’s that going?’

‘It’s good. Early days yet.’

‘How long since your doors opened?’

They’d crossed into Little Tokyo’s center and were walking past bubble tea cafes and clothing shops. ‘It’s been about a year now.’

‘I only had a second to glance at your website but you’re trying to work on the backlog of bodies?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Pretty ambitious.’

She shot him a look. ‘What, just because it’s a big job, we shouldn’t bother?’

‘You know it’s not just a big job, Jayne; it’s damn near insurmountable.’

She didn’t like the way he made air quotes with his fingers around “big job”, like she hadn’t assessed the nature of the problem correctly. She wanted to say, Well, with attitudes like that . . . She voiced, ‘Depends on how you look at it.’

‘You’re saying the glass is half full, not half empty.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Bullshit.’

She stopped walking and turned to look up at his face, remembering how he had a way of making her feel the height differential was just symbolic of his actual superiority. She was suddenly glad Steelie wasn’t there. It would save her from having to post bail after Steelie was arrested for grievous bodily harm from punching Gene in the mouth.

‘It’s not bullshit, Gene. Perspective makes a difference and if that means people like us keep trying to put names to bodies – particularly the difficult to identify – then that’s a good thing.’

Jayne felt like his eyes were boring right through her but then he broke into a grin.

‘That must be the face your sponsors see when you’re asking for grants.’

She couldn’t tell if that was a compliment and didn’t get a chance to ask because the host of the restaurant they had unwittingly stopped in front of asked if they’d like to see the menu. He was holding out a large, vinyl-covered book that Jayne accepted.

They stepped closer to the doorway to get light to read by and walked into the scent of food. She and Gene looked at each other in silent agreement.

They let the host lead them to a table set in a front window. There were a few other diners at tables partially obscured by ficus trees and ferns in pots. The lights were low, and the atmosphere was muted as people focused on their food.

She and Gene shared several dishes, telling old stories and arguing good-naturedly over details.

As they finished up, he asked, ‘Remember when you fell down the ravine in Rulindo?’

‘Oh, we can laugh about it now but you guys left me down there way too long.’

‘We knew you were OK.’

‘I could have broken my ankle!’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘I think I did sprain it or something. It’s never been the same.’

‘Really? You should get it checked out.’

Jayne smiled. ‘A bit late for that, don’t you think?’

‘You, ah, ever get checked out by a psych?’

‘Why? Did you?’

‘When I got back to DC. But you didn’t answer my question.’

‘No, I never saw anyone.’

‘Still could.’

‘I suppose.’ She paused. ‘Did it help you? I mean, not that you needed help per se.’

Gene thought for a moment. ‘It helped me get some clarity about what I wanted to spend my life doing. Working in Rwanda kinda opened things up for me.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I guess I felt some freedom there. When I got back home, I decided to pursue it; give myself permission to enjoy life, not stay enslaved to my government job and the road to a pension.’ He tapped his cup thoughtfully and then smiled up at her. ‘You charge by the hour or what?’

Jayne smiled back.

Gene continued. ‘And you? What happened for you after the Kigali mission?’

‘More missions. Mostly in the so-called Balkan Hot Spots.’

‘That’s right. I think I got news of you and Steelie every now and then. All mass graves?’

She nodded. ‘Barring a few multiples and a few places where we expected bodies but didn’t find any. Carcasses of animals maybe, but no people.’ She looked out the window. ‘Those were the worst. Thinking you were going to find them and then you didn’t and you know they’re still waiting for you. Even now, while we’re sitting at this table in this window, they’re still waiting for us.’ She wasn’t looking at anything now; her perspective had internalized. ‘Or people like us.’

‘But that’s why you started the Agency, right?’

‘Different bodies but yeah, that’s true.’ She looked at him with a small smile.

‘Hey,’ Gene laughed. ‘I actually do charge. By the minute.’ He looked at his watch. ‘That’ll be seventy-five cents, lady. Next!’ He called out as though to a waiting patient but the host thought he was summoning the bill and hurried over to put it on the table.

Jayne tried to smother her laughter.

Gene took the bill. ‘I got it.’

Eric pulled out of the driveway of yet another body shop and nodded at the manager who was waiting to close the gate after the Suburban. Eric watched him in the rear-view mirror and said, ‘Someone’s not too happy we held him back after class.’

Scott was flipping through pages in his notebook. ‘He was nervous, wasn’t he?’

‘For a guy whose business is supposed to be on the up-and-up.’ Eric was driving with some haste along the broad boulevards in Van Nuys.

Now Scott was almost talking to himself. ‘How could he flatly deny they’ve ever had a vehicle in there from Georgia?’

Eric pulled in to park next to a Tommy’s Burger stand. He looked at Scott meaningfully.

Scott was still musing. ‘Wouldn’t you expect someone to say, “I don’t remember; let me check my files”?’

Eric kept his eyes on his partner while lowering the windows until the car filled with the scent of grilling food. Scott finally appeared to get the message because he threw his notebook on the dash and got out of the vehicle. Within two minutes, they were standing at the counter with food in front of them.

Before eating, Scott pulled out his cell phone but didn’t dial.

Eric chewed some of his chilli burger. ‘Why don’t you just call her?’

‘What? Who?’

‘You don’t look innocent, Scott. You can’t do innocent.’

Scott took a deep breath, stretched his arms over his head, arched his back, twisted his torso, and exhaled.

Eric looked at him. ‘I’m trying to eat here and you’re acting like it’s the warm up for the long jump.’

Scott re-holstered his phone and took a deliberately large bite of his meal.

Eric wasn’t finished. ‘What are you worried about – with Jayne, I mean?’

Scott shrugged, then swallowed. ‘I’m not worried. I just don’t want to start something while we’re working together.’

‘That didn’t stop you with Mindy.’

‘Yeah and look how that turned out.’

‘And Jayne isn’t married to the Bureau anyway, so I don’t buy that excuse on any level. Nor does it explain what you’ve been doing for the past five years.’ Eric took the time to chew. ‘You want me to find out if she’s dating someone? I’ll ask her. I’ll ask Steelie.’

Scott was fierce: ‘Don’t.’

‘Jesus. I won’t but Jayne’s not . . .’

Scott looked at him. ‘Not what? My type? I know that already.’

‘No, that’s not what I’m getting at. I’m saying I don’t think she’s necessarily easy to read.’

‘I know.’ Scott took a bite of food and then talked through the mouthful. ‘I can’t believe I’m taking advice from a guy who was married and divorced before he was thirty.’

‘I just got married too young. Now, in your case, that definitely won’t be an issue.’

Jayne turned on her phone as she and Gene strolled slowly back to her truck in the manner of people who’d eaten well and to satisfaction. She looked at the phone even though it hadn’t chirped to signify new voicemail. She wasn’t sure why she imagined she would have missed a call from Scott. He was on her mind as she thought about how soon they might have an evening like this. They’d had dinner together on the phone often enough. Scott eating at his desk in Atlanta, having stayed late on a case, while Jayne was at home, feeling giddy whenever his calls came after she’d showered so she’d be at her table in just a nightshirt. He’d only ever asked her once what she was wearing but it wasn’t one of those nights and she was too honest for her own good, thereby missing, she had always felt, the chance to go down a different path with him. But she’d never forgotten that he’d asked.

Gene broke into her silence as they got into the truck. ‘If you’re not too tired, I wouldn’t mind seeing this place of yours.’

Her mind hadn’t shifted gears yet. ‘My apartment?’

‘Sure . . . that too.’

‘Oh!’

He laughed and Jayne pulled out from the curb, telling herself to pay attention. ‘Sorry, I—’

‘Don’t apologize. Seriously, I wouldn’t mind seeing your office and your apartment. I’d like to see these places that are giving you so much therapy.’

Jayne suddenly turned right on Main Street. ‘All right,’ she said brightly. ‘We’ll swing by the office, then have coffee on my deck.’

Gene nodded and settled back on the seat, his elbow resting on the open windowsill, the night air brushing his hair off his forehead.

They passed Olvera Street, catching snippets of mariachi music and laughter from around the massive magnolia tree that marked the entrance to the enchantingly historic, if touristy, birthplace of LA. Jayne made the dog-leg turn to follow Hill Street through Chinatown, hitting every green light and bypassing the busses disgorging passengers in front of the alleys full of market stalls selling everything from suitcases to cell phone covers under a canopy of paper-mâché lanterns. She accelerated on to the 110 Freeway near Dodger Stadium and the LA Police Academy and crested the hill, passing through the short tunnels to emerge with a view of the transmission tower lights twinkling atop the San Gabriel Mountains on the other side of the valley.

She exited at Figueroa, navigated to San Fernando Road and drove fast along the four lanes, past the small trailer park, the old baseball diamond, and the tire repair shop. On the other side of the road, the rail lines and the LA River paralleled her route. The trough cut by the river made the air even cooler here. Eventually, she slowed to turn into the Agency parking lot. The light above the front door was on and the security lights on the corner of the building were illuminating the front and side.

‘So, this is it?’ Gene asked, getting out of the truck and stretching his long legs.

Jayne unlocked the front door and entered to disable the alarm using the security code on the nearby panel. She turned on the lights as she let him in. He looked around appreciatively.

‘Nice.’ He walked over to the reception counter and picked up one of the Agency brochures. ‘Can I have one of these?’

‘Sure. Wanna see the rest of it?’ She went into the next room and turned on the desk lamp. ‘This is my office. I do the interviews with families and friends of the mispers in here.’

‘Thus the sofas and tissues.’

‘Are you being flippant?’

‘That came out wrong. You do the interviews and then, what, you do the profile off of them?’

‘In part, and in part off any documentation we can get our hands on.’

Jayne walked down the hall, then realized Gene hadn’t followed her. She turned back to find him. He was looking at the filing cabinets behind her desk.

‘Are these all your cases?’

‘Yes.’

‘How many do you have?’

‘About a hundred.’

‘And how many have you matched up to bodies?’

‘Seven so far.’

‘Not very many.’

‘Yeah, but if one of those seven was, say, your father, would that matter? Those seven count for a lot.’

‘True. Sorry, I keep applying the business models we use at my company and I guess they don’t really apply. So where do you keep the closed files?’

She pointed at the top drawer of one of the cabinets and then watched as Gene walked over as though to open it.

‘We keep them locked for obvious reasons,’ she said.

‘I was just interested. Must look kinda empty. You got any plans to fill it up faster?’

‘Well, if you’d follow me, Mr Enthusiasm.’

This time he did follow her, past the kitchen to turn into the lab across from the bathroom.

‘This is where Steelie does the odontograms and the biometrics and we digitize relevant photos. It’s basically an anthro report done off of antemortem instead of the body.’

Gene was turning round, looking at different items on the counters and walls.

‘And this,’ Jayne said, pointing at a computer terminal at one end of the counter, ‘is where Steelie runs the All Coroners Bulletin, which is one of our best tools to speed up the rate with which we close cases and fill that file drawer.’

He looked curious. ‘How does that work?’

‘Basically, if we come across particularly identifiable characteristics that weren’t included on the original missing person report, we get to notify coroners with unidentified bodies through this dedicated network.’

He whistled. ‘That’s pretty good.’

He looked preoccupied for a moment then asked quickly, ‘You made any ID’s through it yet?’

‘No, but before you spread any more of your good cheer, I’m calling the glass half full on this one.’

‘Yeah, you might be right about that.’ He looked at the computer and lapsed into silence.

Jayne said, ‘I’ll just go to the ladies’ and then we’ll head over to my place.’

When she came out, she looked into the lab but there was no sign of Gene. She shut off the lights there and moved forward to her office. She found him sitting at her desk, revolving slowly in her chair.

He smiled at her. ‘I can see why you keep going.’

‘Oh?’

‘You’ve broken the big problem down into smaller pieces, haven’t you? I bet you do a lot of compartmentalizing.’

‘I don’t know about that. But I do like it if I can tell when something’s over, when a job’s done.’

‘What about in the rest of your life?’

‘What about it?’

‘Do you compartmentalize there, too?’

‘I don’t know! Come on, let’s go.’

Fifteen minutes later, she and Gene were walking through the front door of her apartment. While he used the bathroom, she put on the kettle and wiped down the table on the deck. When Gene emerged, she indicated the coffee fixings.

‘How do you take it?’

He called back to her as he walked over to the bookshelves. ‘Black, thanks.’

As she put the grounds into the press, she watched him, noticing how his height was even more obvious now that he was in her house. He was reaching for a book on a high shelf that she needed a footstool to reach. He flicked through the book and then returned it to the shelf.

‘No books on forensics?’

‘They’re all at the Agency. I rarely want to look at them when I get home.’

He turned and looked at her with a surprised smile. ‘You have limits when it comes to forensics? I’m shocked.’

Jayne poured hot water over the coffee. ‘All I’m saying is, Spitz and Fisher isn’t my first choice for bedtime reading.’

‘So you do compartmentalize.’

‘What is it with your fascination as to whether or not I compartmentalize, as you put it?’ She carried the tray of coffee and cups out to the deck.

Gene followed her out. ‘I’m just curious about how you keep on with the forensics and still seem to have a normal life. I wasn’t very successful at it.’

They settled down at the table and Jayne sugared her coffee. ‘Well, I never worked for the Bureau for one thing, and I never said I have a normal life.’

‘But you’re expecting a hot date soon, right?’

‘Gene!’ Jayne spat coffee in her surprise.

He grinned at her. ‘Hey, people who’ve done the type of work we’ve done sometimes have trouble finding someone who “gets” them. And I take it from your reaction that you don’t get a lot of hot dates.’

‘I didn’t say that.’ Jayne wiped her mouth.

‘You missed a spot.’ Gene leaned over and presumptuously wiped his thumb beneath her lower lip. ‘I was really just trying to find out if you had a boyfriend right now. The way you checked your phone earlier . . .?’

‘No. I mean . . . no.’

‘Ri-ight.’ He sounded unconvinced.

‘OK,’ Jayne countered. ‘Since you’re so smug, why haven’t you mentioned your fabulous wife and kids back at your massive condo with attached two-car garage?’

Gene inclined his head. ‘Because it’s a house – my mom’s house, incidentally – not a condo, with a one-car garage that’s filled with other stuff so there’s no room for the car. No wife, but there’ve been some . . . dalliances.’

‘Well, I bet your garage has everything labeled and organized because you like to compartmentalize, just as you allege I do. Am I right?’

He looked thoughtful, then admitted, ‘Pretty much.’

‘Yeah, I bet your mom loves having you around.’

‘Actually, she passed away.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

Gene shook his head. ‘No, it was for the best. Alzheimer’s.’

‘Oh.’

‘Trust me, you don’t want to live with someone who has that kind of dementia. She didn’t know who she was most of the time and she sure as hell didn’t know who I was by the end. It’s pretty weird, I gotta tell ya, to have your own mother not recognize you. Makes you wonder who you are.’

‘Shit, Gene,’ Jayne breathed.

He shook his head and smiled lightly. ‘She’s been gone a few years now. And I worked out who I am.’

A car passed below them on the street, its occupants singing loudly along with their stereo. Their voices died away with the air and were replaced with the sound of cricket calls.

Gene drained his cup and stood. ‘I should probably get going.’

‘I’ll drive you back.’

‘No need. You look tired.’

‘It’s no trouble . . .’

‘Seriously, no need. But you said you had a copy of that photo we took at Kigali Airport?’

‘Right, I do. Give me a second to find it.’

They went indoors and she left Gene there while she went outside and down the stairs to her storage room off the driveway. It took a few minutes to find the right box and she carried the whole thing back upstairs.

He met her at the door and they went through the box together on the dining table, looking at photos from Bosnia. Streets of shelled houses in Brčko, carts of ripe peppers for sale on the shoulder of the road to Tuzla, a bright new gas station on the highway to the Croatian coast. When they came to the photos from Rwanda, the Kigali Airport shot was near the top. Jayne put the duplicate in an envelope and gave it to him. They walked to the front door.

‘I’ll keep in touch,’ he said.

‘It was good to see you.’

‘Tell Steelie I said hi.’

Jayne smiled a bit sheepishly. ‘Will do.’

She thought he was bending down to kiss her cheek, so she leaned toward him but he reached her first and pressed his lips to hers. It wasn’t a bull’s eye, landing partly on her mouth and partly on her cheek, fast but not fleeting. Then he left quickly, raising a hand in farewell as he disappeared around the corner at the top of the stairs.

She closed the door behind him and stood for a moment, shaking her head at the contradictions he seemed to show and feeling surprised at the slight moistness where his rather papery lips had touched hers. It was only then that she wondered how he was getting back to his hotel. She hadn’t even called a taxi for him. She yanked open the door and clattered down the stairs, intending to catch him on the street but there was no sign of him. She realized she didn’t even have his cell phone number. Then she heard the phone ringing in her apartment and she bounded back up, thinking it might be him.

She picked up the phone and answered breathlessly. But it was only Steelie, sounding shocked.

‘Are you just getting in now?’

‘No, we were here and then I just came back in again.’

‘Wait. You had Gene come over to your place?’

‘Yeah, why?’

‘My God, Jayne. Do I need to remind you? The guy’s an ignorant pig who—’

‘He’s mellowed since then.’

‘People like him don’t mellow.’

Jayne smiled, thinking about the number of times Gene had made her laugh that night. ‘Well, he has.’ Even she heard the smile in her tone.

‘Have you forgotten that night at the Cadillac?’

‘Yeah, he wondered if you were still holding that dance against him.’

‘That would be a yes. But what’s the deal? Are you seeing him again? And what was he doing in LA?’

‘He was out here on business and all we did was a have a nice reminiscence session. Talked about life – post-mission life. It was good. I mean, he’s still supercilious at times but he’s fine. He did kiss me.’

‘Ugh!’

Jayne laughed, knowing how abhorrent Steelie would find the idea. ‘Yeah, it wasn’t the best kiss ever. Kind of fourth-grade school yard, actually.’

‘What, like, when no one knows what they’re doing and a tongue goes up someone’s left nostril?’

‘God, no. There was no tongue, but there was something behind it . . . I don’t know. Something.’

Steelie was unmoved. ‘Who cares what was behind it, so long as it wasn’t a tongue?’