The Night Crew

felt like coincidence: the flow of her life had turned the night of Jason’s death. That felt like the beginning of something. To think that it had all started before then—maybe long before then, in the mind of one of her neighbors—just didn’t fit. Didn’t feel right.
    She stood up and said to Harper, ‘‘I’m gonna run next door and talk to Hobie and Jim. They’re up on the roof half the time, maybe they saw something . . . In fact, with
everybody here, I bet they’re out on the roof now.’’
    She went out the back door, looked up: ‘‘Hobie? Jim? You guys up there?’’
    A second later, Hobie’s voice floated down: ‘‘What’s going on?’’
    ‘‘Trouble. Can you come down?’’
    ‘‘Be right there—out the back door.’’
    Anna met them in the dark space between their two houses, explained what had happened. Jim whistled and said, ‘‘I heard the garage door go up and down, but that was about it.’’
    Hobie said, ‘‘I didn’t even hear that.’’
    ‘‘I think you were making popcorn,’’ Jim said.
    ‘‘I’m sorry, Anna. Jesus, I hope the guy doesn’t do anything nuts.’’
    Anna turned back to the house. As she walked along the canal, just before she got to the steps on the back stoop, she unconsciously lifted her foot over a heavy formed-concrete flowerpot. She’d cracked her foot on it thirty times, had always sworn to move it someday . . . and suddenly realized it was gone. Nothing there.
    People were fucking with her house . . . And Anna’s phone rang. She took it out of her pocket and was about to click it on, then stopped, looked at Harper: ‘‘It’s him. He wants me to hear her die.’’
    ‘‘Don’t answer,’’ Harper said, urgently. He turned to Wyatt-and said, ‘‘Are you still set up on her phone?’’
    ‘‘Yeah.’’
    ‘‘You gotta get this one,’’ Anna said. ‘‘I think he’s calling like he called with China Lake. Maybe . . .’’
    ‘‘Jesus.’’ They stared at the phone until the tone stopped. Wyatt began setting up a neighborhood search, and at the same time, sealing the area off. Harper took Anna aside and said, ‘‘We gotta tell them about Clark.’’
    ‘‘Not yet. Let’s find the kid. Jake, it can’t be Clark.’’
    ‘‘That sounds like wishful thinking . . . where’d he go tonight? Why’d he disappear?’’
    ‘‘We don’t know that he did. We probably just missed him. Wyatt thinks we’ve made most of this up—just put stuff together and come up with fantasy. That’s what we’ve done with Clark.’’
    ‘‘I still think . . .’’
    ‘‘Let’s concentrate on McKinley. Please.’’ She was begging him.
    ‘‘We don’t even know where he is, Anna,’’ Harper said in exasperation.
    Anna held up a hand. ‘‘Got an idea,’’ she said. ‘‘I should have thought of this before.’’
    She took the phone out and scrolled through to the Witch, and pushed the button. The Witch answered on the first ring.
    ‘‘This is Anna,’’ Anna said.
    ‘‘What’ya got?’’
    ‘‘A question. You know that kid that got in the fight with the animal activists? Nosebleed and all?’’
    ‘‘Yeah. But talk faster, I’m on a deadline.’’
    ‘‘You had him on a couple of talk shows.’’
    ‘‘Shit, he was on ‘Today,’ what do you mean, a couple talk shows . . .’’
    ‘‘All right, all right, but the day after the raid, you shot extra stuff on him. I need his address, where he lives, and a phone number.’’
    ‘‘Anna, I don’t have any time . . .’’
    ‘‘I need the fuckin’ numbers,’’ Anna shouted.
    ‘‘Hey . . .’’
    ‘‘Listen,’’ Anna said, urgently now, quieter. ‘‘Get somebody to dig the address and numbers up, and I’ll give you a lead on a story that’s better than the jumper. A freebie. And believe me, if you knew what it was, you’d kill your mother for it. I’m not joking: I’ll feed it to you in the next couple of days.’’
    After a moment of silence: ‘‘Anything to do with China Lake?’’
    Anna hesitated, then said, ‘‘Everything to do with China Lake, and she’s just the start.’’
    The Witch screeched, ‘‘This kid is in the China Lake killing?’’
    ‘‘No, no, for Christ’s sake, he didn’t have anything to do with it, that’s a different story. But I’ve got an inside thing on China Lake—a serial killer thing,’’ Anna said. ‘‘If you get McKinley’s address or phone number back to me, I’ll tip you the other