The Night Crew

line.’’
    She drove up past the last car and turned to Harper: ‘‘Are you coming?’’ she asked.
    ‘‘Yeah. You better leave the gun in the car, though. They’ll spot it and take it away from you.’’
    ‘‘Good thought.’’ She took the gun out of her jacket pocket and pushed it under the front seat. ‘‘Let’s go.’’ China was halfway down the embankment, wrapped in the dress she’d been wearing the night before. She’d landed on her face, apparently, but the gravel on the embankment hadn’t done any real damage. It’d cut, but there was no blood to run; the cuts looked like scratches in beeswax.
    Anna and Harper dropped carefully down the embankment, escorted by a young uniformed cop who watched their faces as they went down, down past the foot with a sock— what used to be called an anklet—and the foot without one, with the thighs impolitely apart, unguarded by underwear, the trails of dark pubic hair, down to the face that had bitten into the gravel . . .
    ‘‘Yeah,’’ Anna said, and Harper said, ‘‘Goddammit.’’ Anna said to the young cop, ‘‘That’s China Lake. She’s an actress. Was.’’
    ‘‘Do you know next of kin?’’ the young cop asked.
    ‘‘No, but . . . I could find out.’’
    ‘‘Anything you could get, we’d appreciate.’’
    ‘‘Yeah.’’ She never looked back at the body, but she held the image of China’s face to her heart. Squeezing it. Filing the memories with the hate. ‘‘Do you want to wait for Wyatt?’’ Harper asked, as they got back to the top of the embankment.
    ‘‘What for?’’ Anna asked bitterly. ‘‘The guy couldn’t find his butt with both hands and a searchlight.’’
    ‘‘Not fair,’’ Harper said, as he followed Anna back to the car.
    ‘‘Fuck fair,’’ she said.
    ‘‘All right, princess. So now what?’’
    ‘‘We gotta go back to my place, so I can get my car. I don’t want you ferrying me all over the place.’’
    ‘‘Anna, I’m happy to . . .’’
    ‘‘I know, I know, but I want my car,’’ she said. And she added, ‘‘I’m sorry, Jake. But China . . .’’ The midday traffic wasn’t too bad, and they made it back to Anna’s in a half hour. She backed the Toyota out of the garage, as Harper waited in the street, then followed him out, up the San Diego, over the hills to his house. When they got there, she said, ‘‘You know, I forgot something . . . I’m gonna go away for a while.’’
    ‘‘I better come with you.’’
    ‘‘Nope. I’m doing this on my own—don’t worry, I’ll be okay.’’ She took in his face, softened, and said, ‘‘Listen, I just want to drive around a while, by myself, and get my head straight. And see Creek at the hospital. I’ll be careful. I’ve got this.’’ She patted the pistol in her pocket.
    ‘‘Goddammit, Anna, you better be careful.’’
    He took her shoulders and kissed her, insistently; she let herself relax into the kiss, held it for a moment, then pushed him away. ‘‘Hold that thought,’’ she said. ‘‘I’ll be back.’’ He came out to watch her go, and just before she did, she ran the window down and said, ‘‘He might have tracked us out here—so be careful yourself.’’
    ‘‘It’s all private property, and people are pretty insistent about that. He’d have a hard time sneaking in, during the day, anyway,’’ Harper said. ‘‘But I’ll watch.’’
    Anna went back out the way she came, watching the rearview mirror. She had cars behind her, from time to time, but nothing that looked consistent. She continued back into town, to her house, went in, gathered a few clothes, stuck them in a leather satchel and carried the satchel out to the car.
    ‘‘Anna, what’s happening?’’ A voice from the sky, and she looked up.
    ‘‘Hobie?’’
    ‘‘Come on up; we’re having margaritas.’’
    ‘‘Aw, I’m on my way to see Creek.’’
    ‘‘How is he?’’ She could just see the top half of Hobie’s moon face past the shingles on a dormer.
    ‘‘Better, I guess. They said he had to sit still for a few days, but one of these days he’ll be up.’’
    ‘‘That’s great . . .’’
    ‘‘Listen, this jerk, this killer, the cops think he might be tracking me. If you or Jim see anyone around, take down some tag numbers, huh? I’m carrying my cell phone all the time, you’ve got the number . . .’’
    ‘‘Give it to me again.’’
    She gave him the number, and started out again,