was searching for the right term, the way a foreigner might.”
Tatyana said, “You didn’t mention this before.”
“It just struck me.”
Wayne asked, “Did he have an accent?”
“None at all. What I mean is, I couldn’t say if he was American or not. He spoke English. His voice was very deep, very strong. He told me that we were in real and immediate danger. He said that for the sake of my family and my future, I needed to take refuge in my home. I should remove myself from my work. I should watch and pray. I should seek out a hero. A man with a warrior’s past, who had learned to set aside his weapons and who gave no importance to money. A man who was strong when others were weak.”
Easton Grey stared not at the sunlight-dappled waters beyond his lawn, but at the past. “The angel walked to the door. Then it was almost like he read my mind, because I hadn’t said a word, I was too shocked. He said, ‘If you identify the right hero, he will know what needs doing.’ Then he left.”
Tatyana gave him a minute, then said, “Tell him what happened next.”
Grey directed his words at his aide. “I walked over to the receptionist. She was busy on the phone and it took a while. When she hung up I asked her who the man was that had just left. She asked, ‘What man?’ I described him. She said there was no African-American patient scheduled that day, and no new patient that week. She had no idea who I was talking about.”
Wayne said, “Somebody got to her.”
Grey nodded slowly. “That’s certainly a possibility.”
Wayne studied the man. This corporate general. “But you don’t think so.”
“Well.” Grey almost managed a smile. “I’d hate to think I’ve spent a week in hiding for no reason.”
FIFTEEN
W hen they drove back down the retirement compound’s central avenue, they noticed a police car in front of the community center and another parked over by the lane leading to the waterfront homes.
Tatyana said, “Something’s happened to one of the seniors.”
“Or Julio’s done something really special,” Wayne replied. Thanks a lot, Eilene.
Before they had emerged from the car, Jerry came hustling over. “You ain’t gonna believe this.”
“Tell me it’s not Julio.”
“What? No. The kid’s …Tell the truth, I been so busy I have no idea where the kid is.” The man revealed a side Wayne had never seen before. A cop in high gear.
Tatyana remained by the car. “I need to get back to the office.”
Jerry said, “You got a minute, you might want to tag along.”
Wayne said, “I need to speak with you.”
“First you are coming with me,” Jerry insisted.
Tatyana looked genuinely worried. She had a two-fisted grip on the car’s roof and door, intent on not going anywhere. “I will wait here.”
Jerry studied her, reading the woman at below skin level. “Come on, let’s go.” He waited until they had crossed the lot to say, “That lady’s got a thing about bad news.”
“Or cops.”
“Nah. I told her what I did, or used to do, she didn’t bat an eye. A lady who drives a car like that ain’t afraid of the odd runin with the law.” They hooked a left on the oyster-shell lane and headed down toward the bay. “I seen that before. Some folks get spooked on account of how things’ve gone down before.”
As Jerry’s house came into view, he lowered his voice and said, “Might be a good idea not to go into a lot of detail about the other night.”
The two cops were waiting in Jerry’s minuscule front yard. Each house had patches of private ground before and behind. Some grew flowers. Others set up borders and laid out Japanese-style gardens of stones and miniature trees. Jerry had a cluster of indoor-outdoor chairs set at an angle where the occupants could see the water. A young cop leaned against the side of Jerry’s screened-in porch. Holly was seated between Foster and a heavy-set cop. His jacket was tossed over the back of his chair, revealing a
Tatyana said, “You didn’t mention this before.”
“It just struck me.”
Wayne asked, “Did he have an accent?”
“None at all. What I mean is, I couldn’t say if he was American or not. He spoke English. His voice was very deep, very strong. He told me that we were in real and immediate danger. He said that for the sake of my family and my future, I needed to take refuge in my home. I should remove myself from my work. I should watch and pray. I should seek out a hero. A man with a warrior’s past, who had learned to set aside his weapons and who gave no importance to money. A man who was strong when others were weak.”
Easton Grey stared not at the sunlight-dappled waters beyond his lawn, but at the past. “The angel walked to the door. Then it was almost like he read my mind, because I hadn’t said a word, I was too shocked. He said, ‘If you identify the right hero, he will know what needs doing.’ Then he left.”
Tatyana gave him a minute, then said, “Tell him what happened next.”
Grey directed his words at his aide. “I walked over to the receptionist. She was busy on the phone and it took a while. When she hung up I asked her who the man was that had just left. She asked, ‘What man?’ I described him. She said there was no African-American patient scheduled that day, and no new patient that week. She had no idea who I was talking about.”
Wayne said, “Somebody got to her.”
Grey nodded slowly. “That’s certainly a possibility.”
Wayne studied the man. This corporate general. “But you don’t think so.”
“Well.” Grey almost managed a smile. “I’d hate to think I’ve spent a week in hiding for no reason.”
FIFTEEN
W hen they drove back down the retirement compound’s central avenue, they noticed a police car in front of the community center and another parked over by the lane leading to the waterfront homes.
Tatyana said, “Something’s happened to one of the seniors.”
“Or Julio’s done something really special,” Wayne replied. Thanks a lot, Eilene.
Before they had emerged from the car, Jerry came hustling over. “You ain’t gonna believe this.”
“Tell me it’s not Julio.”
“What? No. The kid’s …Tell the truth, I been so busy I have no idea where the kid is.” The man revealed a side Wayne had never seen before. A cop in high gear.
Tatyana remained by the car. “I need to get back to the office.”
Jerry said, “You got a minute, you might want to tag along.”
Wayne said, “I need to speak with you.”
“First you are coming with me,” Jerry insisted.
Tatyana looked genuinely worried. She had a two-fisted grip on the car’s roof and door, intent on not going anywhere. “I will wait here.”
Jerry studied her, reading the woman at below skin level. “Come on, let’s go.” He waited until they had crossed the lot to say, “That lady’s got a thing about bad news.”
“Or cops.”
“Nah. I told her what I did, or used to do, she didn’t bat an eye. A lady who drives a car like that ain’t afraid of the odd runin with the law.” They hooked a left on the oyster-shell lane and headed down toward the bay. “I seen that before. Some folks get spooked on account of how things’ve gone down before.”
As Jerry’s house came into view, he lowered his voice and said, “Might be a good idea not to go into a lot of detail about the other night.”
The two cops were waiting in Jerry’s minuscule front yard. Each house had patches of private ground before and behind. Some grew flowers. Others set up borders and laid out Japanese-style gardens of stones and miniature trees. Jerry had a cluster of indoor-outdoor chairs set at an angle where the occupants could see the water. A young cop leaned against the side of Jerry’s screened-in porch. Holly was seated between Foster and a heavy-set cop. His jacket was tossed over the back of his chair, revealing a
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