Nickel City Crossfire Gary Ross (e book reader pc .txt) 📖

least I think we’ll get some coffee. Somewhere we can talk.”

“I can promise to be with you both when she tells her story to Rafael and Terry, if she can bring herself to trust me.”

“You’re better at inspiring confidence than I am. Just ask your partners.”

Phoenix laughed. “If you saw the knock-down, drag-outs we have in the office—”

“No matter. Since we’ve been together, I haven’t met anybody who dislikes you.”

“Those are all people who know me. Keisha doesn’t know me.”

“She doesn’t know me either, but people who love her convinced her to trust me,” I said. “Trusting you will come easier to her. She already told me she’ll do whatever we say. We just need to say the right thing.”

“With all she’s gone through, I’m afraid of saying exactly the wrong thing.”

When our salads came, Phoenix steered the conversation back to Dante Cuthbert, whom we had discussed on the drive over. Because the driver’s license photos I had found were old, she had used her phone in an attempt to retrieve recent pictures of Cuthbert and his alter ego through Google and social media sites. A white Dante Cuthbert in England looked to be in the British army. A brown-skinned Cuthbert in India wore a lot of superhero t-shirts. A black Dante Cuthbert in LA was clearly too young. Frustrated then, she had changed her search parameters to approach the problem from another angle. Now she took the phone from her purse and showed me several pictures of Lincoln Navigators. “Which one?”

I pointed to a newer model. “Remember these LED running lights. That’s what I’ll be looking for in the rearview mirror. If you see a configuration like this around the headlights and I seem not to notice, just tell me. Then get down and stay there.”

She paused a few seconds before asking, “You think he’ll make a run at you?”

“Frankly, it’s a longshot. The office is my only public address. Very few people know where I live.” Quick and Tolliver did but I hoped she had forgotten that.

“You have LJ. Maybe he’s got somebody smart too. Maybe a man clever enough to have two working identities is just as good himself at digging up information.”

I reached across the table with my left hand to cover her right, casually placing my fingertips near her radial artery. “His prime target is still Keisha.” I spoke soothingly, all the while shifting my gaze from her eyes to the seconds display on my watch and counting in my head. “At some point, I might see him somewhere.” Pulse normal so far. “But I doubt it’ll be tonight.” The breathing I had grown accustomed to in the past several weeks sounded even and unstressed. “Tonight is ours.” Still, there was tension between us.

Releasing her hand, I speared a grape tomato with my fork and popped it into my mouth. I chewed it slowly. “So good,” I said, making one silly pleasure face after another—until, finally, she cracked a smile and said how attractive chewing made me look. The next moment ended in a laugh when I recalled yesterday and told her Piñero had thought Mira was flirting with me.

We talked about other things after that. One of the great pleasures of our relationship was that we never ran out of things to discuss. That evening we covered three or four current events before our entrees came. Then Phoenix smiled at me again and said, “Eat up. You’re going to need your strength.”

36

On Saturday morning we showered separately so someone could answer the phone. The call came in at nine when I was toweling off. Phoenix stepped into the bathroom and handed me my cell. Then she pecked me on the lips, hung up her bathrobe, and said, “I hope you left me some hot water.”

“Keisha?” I said, taking the phone into the next room as I pulled on my own robe.

“Mr. Rimes?”

“Yes.”

“Was that your lawyer friend? The one you sent flowers?”

“Yes. Phoenix Trinidad.” I heard the shower turn on.

“She sounds nice. It sounded so sweet, the two of you together. So normal.” Her voice caught. “I want normal again.”

“If your folks are safe, Keisha, we’re almost there.”

“They’re safe.”

“Good.”

“So are Fatimah and her family. All out of state.”

“I won’t ask where.” Robe soaking up the water on my back, I sat on a bistro chair at my kitchen counter and shifted the phone from my right hand to my left. A pad and pen were already there, waiting. I picked up the pen. “How and where should we meet?”

“Not here. Bianca and Jen have been so good to me I don’t want them to risk anything else.”

“They don’t have to.”

“Jen even took a couple of sick days to stay home with me in case—in case somebody showed up here.”

“Is Jen with you now?”

“Yes. They both are.”

“I don’t need to know where they live, just where you want to meet.”

“How about Tim Horton’s?”

“Which one? Feels like there’s one every three blocks.”

She must have lowered the phone. Her voice sounded far away when she said, “He wants to know which one.”

“Pick one with a single door,” I said, raising my voice so they would hear me.

A knocking sound indicated the phone had changed hands.

“Rimes? It’s Jen.”

“Hi, Jen. Pick a Timmy Ho’s with one door. That way I can watch it as we talk.”

“I’ll be there with my off-duty piece to cover your six,” Jen said. “But I’d rather watch one door than two or three. I spent time in E District. You know the Tim’s across from UB Main Street?”

“Yes. One door.”

“Meet us there in forty-five minutes.”

“I’ve got friends in homicide. My lawyer and I will take her to them afterward. She have any evidence?”

“Not that I’ve seen but I believe her.”

“Thanks, Jen.”

“Listen to her and then thank me by fixing this.”

37

Keisha and company got to Tim Horton’s ahead of us. In jeans and a purple down jacket that covered her gun, Jen was already seated across from the door when Phoenix and I walked