Intimate Relations Rebecca Forster (free children's ebooks online TXT) 📖

Cori started to laugh, but immediately sobered. It wasn't as much that the sour mood had passed as the time for fun and games was gone. They were close to whatever had called them out in the dead of night.

Finn leaned forward; Cori leaned back so he could look past her. The geography of this division was a far cry from Wilshire. Since they would be traveling it at least another six weeks, Finn looked for landmarks to map it out in his mind. There wasn't much of merit. To Finn the whole place looked like real estate Morse Code: dots and dashes of open spaces and structures. The open spaces were the dots — few and far between.  The low slung buildings that housed small manufacturing businesses, offices, and duplexes were strung together like architectural dashes. The message it spelled out was that this was L.A.'s version of fly-over country.

Here and there single-family homes popped up. Some of the houses were abandoned and some not, but all bore wounds. Paint peeled off window sashes, house numbers were faded, and weeds sprouted from the cracks in the crumbling sidewalks. Now and again a patch of greenery struggled to survive in a tiny fenced yard or an errant sunflower reached for the sky.

Bars covered all the windows, the metal bolted to the exterior walls. It was clear there were no interior release mechanisms. A spark from a barbeque, a space heater, an illegal firework, and the buildings would go up in flames.  There would be no way out for the people inside, and no way in for the fire crews.

In this city, release bars were the law. Still the politicians could pass a million laws to protect their citizens, but without enough people to enforce them or money to comply the laws meant nothing. The marginalized populations would have to take their chances.

"There."

At Cori's call Finn slowed the car. He didn't see the entrance to property.  He did see a landmark he would not soon forget. Up ahead, towering thirty-feet off the ground, was a fiberglass statue of a cowboy astride a gargantuan horse. It was the kind of thing one would see at the entrance to an amusement park. In the darkness of the early morning, though, the cowboy looked like the guardian of Hades.

Dark patches marred the horse's white flanks where the California sun had taken its toll.  The cowboy's blue pants and red shirt were faded. His face was pock-marked, a chunk of plaster had been taken out of his chin; one eye was worn away. But none of this bothered the cowboy.  He grinned, ready with a how-dee-do. The horse reared with gusto. The cowboy's arm was raised and he held his ten gallon hat skyward, beckoning all to enter.

This way. 

Come on, y'all.

Wonders to be seen; adventure to be had.

This way, suckers.

Finn gave a soft snort, a whinny if you please. It wasn't likely that there was anything wonderful to be had this night. Still, he accepted the cowboy's invitation and pulled a hard right through a wide gate. The gate was part of an impressive iron fence that stood ten feet counting the curls of barbed wire on top. He rolled through a parking lot. Each space was occupied. Some of the cars were fine; others looked as if they were ready for the junk heap. Finn stopped. Both detectives scanned the grounds. There seemed to be no direct path to the interior.   Cori got on the horn with dispatch to confirm the exact location, but before she finished her query Finn said:

"We're good, Cori. I see."

He backed up and made a tight turn and another turn quickly after that. They were on a wide walkway that ran between two buildings, heading toward a pulsing halo of red light. Cori popped her belt. They had arrived at their destination, but two black and whites beat them to it. Finn inched past an ambulance and came to a stop between the two cherry tops. He and Cori opened their doors and closed them as if their movements were choreographed. They hitched their jackets: Finn to confirm his weapon was at the small of his back, Cori that hers was in the holster under her arm. They took note of their surroundings as they went toward a young officer.

Two EMTs were in the back of their vehicle, sheltering in place, waiting to be called. One, a woman who looked more like a girl, hopped to the ground. She held onto the open door of the van and watched them. The detective's arrival signaled that something would be happening soon.  Finn would remember what she looked like in the same way he would remember the odd layout of the property. It was always this way when he arrived at a scene. It was a skill and a blessing, his hyper vigilance.

They walked across a concrete slab that looked like a village square. There were no vehicles other than those of law enforcement. The utilitarian buildings surrounding the area were of varying heights. Some had a great deal of space between them; others were so close together they shared walls. Picture windows punctuated the taller buildings; squat buildings had no windows at all. Every concrete block had a door and over that door was a number. Industrial fans were embedded high in the walls for ventilation. Raised concrete walkways framed the lower structures.  Wooden railings that looked like hitching posts studded the length.  The spaces in front of some units were swept clean; others were a riot of potted plants, furniture, and toys.

People had come out of their apartments, awakened by the flash of the lights and the sound of cars where no cars should be. They were a motley crew. Leaning over the wooden railing in front of one of the units was a couple who had come straight from their bed. The girl wore a T-shirt; Finn wished her