14

Frost waited for the cable car to pass, and then he crossed into Union Square. He finished a foot-long hot dog as he walked. Ketchup, pickle relish, no onions. It drove his brother crazy that Frost ate so many hot dogs. Duane was a chef, and he didn’t appreciate Frost’s argument that street-vendor hot dogs were better than just about any other food in the world.

The sun beat down on his neck. Entering the plaza, he passed under the palm trees. The Macy’s building was across the square on his right. People swarmed the park, clustering around musicians, mimes, jugglers, and acrobats. Above the street music, he heard the chants and drums of protesters, and he could see hand-painted signs waving in the air. It was San Francisco. Someone was always protesting something.

He found the terraced steps leading down to Geary Street, and it took him a minute to spot Lucy Hagen among the hundred-or-so people eating lunch on the steps on the warm afternoon. She was small and alone, watching the world go by with a dreamy expression on her face. She wore a belted red dress with black stripes at the hem. Her knees were pressed together, and she wore red high heels. The dress showed off her pretty arms and legs. Her brown hair nestled on her shoulders.

He squeezed his way down the steps and slid to the ground beside her. He whistled a tune that had been stuck in his head all day.

“Hey, Lucy,” he said.

“Oh, hey, Frost.” She welcomed him with a smile.

“Sorry to interrupt your lunch break, but I had a few more questions for you.”

“That’s okay. I like the company.”

Her lunch consisted of a couscous salad with olives and artichoke hearts. She took dainty, uninterested bites with a plastic fork. He guessed that if he’d offered to buy her a hot dog, she would have jumped at the chance.

“You look great,” he said.

“Have to look good for the Macy’s customers, you know.” But he could tell she was pleased with the compliment.

Lucy always looked a little lost when he saw her. Some single women owned the city, and some looked overwhelmed by it. Her big, curious eyes followed the people around her. She was a watcher, not a doer. He had the feeling that she stared at other San Franciscans on the street and wondered how they could make it look so easy. The businessmen. The construction workers in bright yellow. The drag queens. Even the homeless wrapped in blankets.

She noticed him studying her face and went back to her lunch in embarrassment. Her mouth twitched into a frown. “Have they found Brynn’s body yet?”

“No.”

Lucy shivered. “That’s awful.”

“It is. I’m sorry.”

“I checked with her supervisor, by the way. Brynn missed a day of work this week. She didn’t show up. She didn’t call.”

“And you have no idea where she was?” he asked.

“No.”

Frost craned his neck to study the plaza. “Did you say Dr. Stein’s office is nearby?”

Lucy pointed at a tall building on Stockton on the east side of the square. “She works in there.”

“Did Brynn say anything about seeing Dr. Stein lately? Is there a chance she could have gone to her for some kind of follow-up appointment?”

“I don’t think so. She didn’t mention it.”

“Did she say anything at all about Dr. Stein recently?”

“On the bridge, when we were stuck up there, she suggested I talk to her. She said she was pretty good. That’s it.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Lucy closed the plastic lid on her salad, as if she weren’t hungry anymore. She put her chin up, savoring the sun. “I love hanging out here, don’t you? Especially on the weekends. It’s so crazy. All the street performers. All the wild getups.”

“There’s nothing like it in the world,” Frost agreed.

She played with her hair, wrapping a curl around one of her fingers. “So did you always know you wanted to be a detective? Were you one of those little boys who played cops and robbers all the time?”

Frost shook his head. “No, when I was a kid, I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do.”

“That’s like me. I still don’t.”

“Yeah, it’s different for some people. My brother, Duane, knew he was going to be a chef when he was five years old. He was cooking dinner for all of us by the time he was seven.”

“People like that amaze me,” Lucy said. “I wish I had a dream like that, but I don’t.”

Frost shrugged. “I think the rest of the world is more like you and me. We just kind of find our way. Things happen, and we figure it all out as we go.”

“Well, I’m still trying to figure it out,” Lucy replied.

“You’ve got time. When I was your age, I was just getting out of USF law school. I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do.”

“Oh my God, you’re a lawyer?” Lucy asked.

“I hope that doesn’t destroy your opinion of me.”

“No, it’s just — why aren’t you practicing law?”

“Like I said, things happen,” Frost told her. “I went to SF State as an undergrad and got a dual degree in history and criminology. I was really only interested in history, but my parents said I should get some practical value out of my college education. They pushed law school on me, too. Duane was working ninety hours a week at minimum wage as a cook, and I think they figured one of the Easton boys should go make some money. It didn’t work out that way.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, there were no jobs for lawyers when I got out. That’s okay. I would have hated it.”

“So you joined the police?” Lucy asked.

“Nope.”

She was confused. “What did you do?”

“I drove a taxi for two years.”

Lucy laughed. She reached out and touched his shoulder and then quickly drew her hand back. “Wow, you really are full of surprises.”

“I liked it,” Frost said. “I got to know the ins and outs of the city, all the back roads and back routes. That still comes in pretty handy.”

“Why’d you quit?”

“I got robbed too many times. I had too many people throw up in my cab. So I hooked up with a high school buddy down on the Wharf. We ran fishing charters for a year. We slept on the boat. I liked being on the water, but I smelled like fish all the time, and girls didn’t really go for that.”

Frost was enjoying his trip down memory lane, but he knew how it ended. He felt a tightness in his stomach. Things happen, and you figure out where you’re going, but it doesn’t mean what happens is good.

“Then I spent six months working on Alcatraz as a tour guide. I loved that, being a history buff. It was my favorite job.”

“But only six months?” Lucy asked.

“Only six months.”

“What happened? Did you get laid off?”

Frost glanced at Lucy and then glanced away. They were the same age. Lucy and Katie. Both twenty-five.

“No, my sister was murdered,” Frost told her.

Lucy’s big eyes flew open even wider. He heard her inhale sharply. Without a word or thought, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. “Oh my God, Frost. I don’t know what to say.”

“Thanks. There’s nothing to say.”

She let him go, but she held on to his hand. “That’s so terrible.”

“Yeah. Katie was a sweet kid.”

He was about to say she was your age, but he didn’t. He was about to say you remind me of her, but he didn’t.

“I found her in the backseat of her car. It was—”

He stopped. It was a scene only the devil would understand.

“There are so many ripple effects when something like that happens,” he went on. “My parents separated for a while and only reconciled a couple years ago. They left the city. Moved to Tucson. They couldn’t handle being here anymore. Duane and I actually grew closer. We were so different, and we’d never spent much time together, but without Katie, we were all we had.”

“And you became a cop,” Lucy concluded.

“Yes, I became a cop. Suddenly, the criminology degree, the law degree, seemed to make sense in the world. Up to that point, they didn’t. But I guess there’s a weird synchronicity to life. The puzzle pieces come together eventually.”

Lucy still clung to his hand.

“Did you catch the guy?”

“Yes, we got him. My lieutenant was the detective on the case. Now he’s gone away for good. Honestly, I don’t always know how to deal with it. That guy completely changed my life. I’m sitting here right now because of a murderer.” He shook his head and gave a silent, unhappy laugh. “Sorry, Lucy. I don’t mean to drag you down with my stories.”

“No, I’m glad you told me. I don’t have any stories like that.”

“Be glad you don’t.”

“I don’t know. I want there to be something, you know. I feel like I’m not going anywhere. I think I’d rather be like you. Drive a cab, or live on a fishing boat, or work on Alcatraz, instead of selling jewelry to rich old women.”

“Nothing’s stopping you,” Frost said.

“Except myself.” Lucy checked the time on her phone. “I better go. Break’s over.”

“Sorry. One more question.”

“Sure.”

“Did Brynn tell you anything about her treatments with Dr. Stein? I’m trying to find out more about how this memory thing really works.”

“No, she didn’t talk about it, but she seemed fine afterward. Nothing was wrong, as far as I could tell.”

“She didn’t give you any details?”

“Not really, but if you want to find out more about it, I know someone who can help.”

“Who?” Frost asked.

“Me.”

“You? What do you mean?”

Lucy looked embarrassed. “I decided to talk to Dr. Stein about my gephyrophobia. It’s stupid, living in the Bay Area and freaking out about bridges. I want to know if she thinks she can help me.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea right now,” Frost said.

“Oh, I won’t do any treatments yet. I probably can’t even afford it. I just figured I’d do an initial consultation to find out what it’s all about. That’s what you want, too, isn’t it?”

“Lucy, don’t do this for me. Really.”

“But it might help you anyway, right?”

“It might,” Frost admitted.

“Well, there you go. Win-win for both of us. I have an appointment on Monday afternoon. We can talk afterward.”

Lucy didn’t give him a chance to object. She pushed herself off the step and smoothed her red dress. Frost got up, too, and their bodies accidentally bumped together in the hustle-bustle of the crowd. Lucy’s mouth puckered, as if she had an impulse to kiss him. He defused the moment by reaching out to shake her hand. She took it, and her palm had a nervous dampness.

“Bye, Frost,” she said, with a twinge of disappointment on her face.

“Good-bye, Lucy.”

She turned and skipped down the steps, dodging between the crowds. He watched her until she disappeared through the revolving door at Macy’s, and then he turned back to the park. As he climbed into the plaza, he nearly collided with a tall man who wore a white flowing robe and a bizarre mask that completely covered his face. The mask featured a red-lipped grin from ear to ear, long white fangs, and huge bug eyes. A black wig of dreadlocks hung down his head.

Frost was startled, but weirdness was the coin of the realm in San Francisco.

“Sorry,” he said.

The mask bobbed up and down, and the man replied in a singsong falsetto.

“Sorrrr-eeee,” he chanted. “Sorrrr-eeee.”

Frost continued past the man into the square. He was fifty yards away beneath the palm trees when he remembered what Lucy had told him about the man on the bridge.

The man wearing a strange mask, two cars away from Brynn Lansing.

Frost didn’t like coincidences.

He ran back to the steps of the plaza and scanned the crowd. He looked everywhere, but the man in the mask had already vanished.

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