heard Alison murmuring and went to look in on her. She was sleeping, her mouth slightly open, her head tilted and resting on her hair. I watched her from the doorway for a long time.
We didn’t notice her when she came in. Late twenties, maybe, a little plain, looking like every other expectant mother who had entered the clinic in the last week of work. Sitting in the second-floor waiting room, her purse in her lap, her belly showing second trimester, she struck me as odd only because she was Caucasian and alone. Most of the white patients at the clinic came with someone else, a friend or lover to hold their hand. She had been nervous, but I had yet to see a patient who wasn’t. Mostly, I put that down to the noise of the SOS protesters outside. So I didn’t stop when she came in, but continued back to my office.
Romero had, not unreasonably, explained that she would not allow a guard on her when she was with a patient, and I didn’t argue the point. Excuse me, ma’am, just put your legs in the stirrups and don’t mind him, he’s my bodyguard.
Not good for business, if nothing else.
So, while Romero did her job, I did mine. I had taken over an empty office on the second floor as our on-site command post and, while Natalie patrolled the second floor and Dale watched the first, I did as much advance work as possible over the phone. Truth to tell, there wasn’t a whole lot of advance work to be done. Romero’s schedule was simple. We had all our alternate routes memorized, our formations down, our communication clear. The only other thing for me to do was try to determine the source of the threats, and I could do only so much of that at the clinic. Mostly phone calls, either to Detective Lozano or Special Agent Fowler. My attempts to set up an interview with Jonathan Crowell at SOS had all failed. I got the feeling Crowell didn’t want to talk to me.
So I called Rubin at Romero’s apartment to check on Katie.
“How’s it going?” I asked him.
“Fine,” Rubin told me. “I’m bored senseless and Katie’s having the time of her life. She’s stolen my sketch pad and is working in charcoals now.”
“Any problems?”
“Well, she’s got charcoal dust all over herself, but I’ve managed to keep it off the furniture.”
“You’re a funny guy,” I said. I could hear music in the background, and Katie was saying something.
“No, no problems,” Rubin said. “No phone calls, no letters, and no protesters. I just finished checking the mail. It’s clean. I really don’t think they have her home address yet, Atticus.”
“It’s only a matter of time. Enough of her life is public record and it’s there for them to find. All it takes is one SOS member who also works for the IRS or a bank. Let me know if you see anything suspicious.”
“Of course,” he said, sounding hurt. “Katie wants to speak to you.”
“Put her on.”
I listened as the phone changed hands, then Katie said, “Hello, who is this?”
“It’s Atticus, Katie,” I said, thinking it was a hell of a thing to ask after she had told Rubin she wanted to talk to me. “How you doing?”
“Oh, it’s ’Cus, hello. When are you coming home?”
“Not for a while yet. Your mom hasn’t finished work.”
“Where’s my mommy, can I talk to my mommy?” Katie asked.
“I’ll see if she can call you later.”
“Okay, she’s working. We can’t talk to her, but we can. Ask her, please, so I can talk to her.”
“I will, I promise.”
“Okay. David says hi, he says hi, and we’ll see you, okay? I’ll see you, okay?” she said, and then the phone was back to Rubin before I could answer.
“You’ll be coming in at the same time?” he asked. “Yeah. We’ll radio our ETA once we’re moving. You’re not going too stir-crazy?”
He chuckled. “Hell, no. We’ve done finger-painting and Sweatin’ to the Oldies and she’s on charcoal now, like I said. After that, we’re going to watch some episodes of The
We didn’t notice her when she came in. Late twenties, maybe, a little plain, looking like every other expectant mother who had entered the clinic in the last week of work. Sitting in the second-floor waiting room, her purse in her lap, her belly showing second trimester, she struck me as odd only because she was Caucasian and alone. Most of the white patients at the clinic came with someone else, a friend or lover to hold their hand. She had been nervous, but I had yet to see a patient who wasn’t. Mostly, I put that down to the noise of the SOS protesters outside. So I didn’t stop when she came in, but continued back to my office.
Romero had, not unreasonably, explained that she would not allow a guard on her when she was with a patient, and I didn’t argue the point. Excuse me, ma’am, just put your legs in the stirrups and don’t mind him, he’s my bodyguard.
Not good for business, if nothing else.
So, while Romero did her job, I did mine. I had taken over an empty office on the second floor as our on-site command post and, while Natalie patrolled the second floor and Dale watched the first, I did as much advance work as possible over the phone. Truth to tell, there wasn’t a whole lot of advance work to be done. Romero’s schedule was simple. We had all our alternate routes memorized, our formations down, our communication clear. The only other thing for me to do was try to determine the source of the threats, and I could do only so much of that at the clinic. Mostly phone calls, either to Detective Lozano or Special Agent Fowler. My attempts to set up an interview with Jonathan Crowell at SOS had all failed. I got the feeling Crowell didn’t want to talk to me.
So I called Rubin at Romero’s apartment to check on Katie.
“How’s it going?” I asked him.
“Fine,” Rubin told me. “I’m bored senseless and Katie’s having the time of her life. She’s stolen my sketch pad and is working in charcoals now.”
“Any problems?”
“Well, she’s got charcoal dust all over herself, but I’ve managed to keep it off the furniture.”
“You’re a funny guy,” I said. I could hear music in the background, and Katie was saying something.
“No, no problems,” Rubin said. “No phone calls, no letters, and no protesters. I just finished checking the mail. It’s clean. I really don’t think they have her home address yet, Atticus.”
“It’s only a matter of time. Enough of her life is public record and it’s there for them to find. All it takes is one SOS member who also works for the IRS or a bank. Let me know if you see anything suspicious.”
“Of course,” he said, sounding hurt. “Katie wants to speak to you.”
“Put her on.”
I listened as the phone changed hands, then Katie said, “Hello, who is this?”
“It’s Atticus, Katie,” I said, thinking it was a hell of a thing to ask after she had told Rubin she wanted to talk to me. “How you doing?”
“Oh, it’s ’Cus, hello. When are you coming home?”
“Not for a while yet. Your mom hasn’t finished work.”
“Where’s my mommy, can I talk to my mommy?” Katie asked.
“I’ll see if she can call you later.”
“Okay, she’s working. We can’t talk to her, but we can. Ask her, please, so I can talk to her.”
“I will, I promise.”
“Okay. David says hi, he says hi, and we’ll see you, okay? I’ll see you, okay?” she said, and then the phone was back to Rubin before I could answer.
“You’ll be coming in at the same time?” he asked. “Yeah. We’ll radio our ETA once we’re moving. You’re not going too stir-crazy?”
He chuckled. “Hell, no. We’ve done finger-painting and Sweatin’ to the Oldies and she’s on charcoal now, like I said. After that, we’re going to watch some episodes of The
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