Fugitive Nights(107)

Finally, there was a green leather jacket and matching skirt he'd found in the Palm Springs department store where he'd bought his waiter's clothes. It was double breasted with gold buttons, and the skirt was very slim. He'd measured the size against a salesgirl who was short and slender like his wife, whose favorite color was green. It had cost $500, but he didn't care. She'd never get a present like that again, not in her lifetime.

His comrades wouldn't be getting back much of the money that they'd taken from drug smugglers and U. S. insurance companies, but that was all right. He was sure that the family of Javier Rosas would say it was all right.

When they'd finally hiked to the Smoke Tree parking lot Lynn said, "My knees're begging for a drink."

"I don't need a drink," Breda said, heading toward her Z.

Nelson thought it was a good time to saunter to his Wrangler and give Lynn and Breda some space to say whatever it was they had to say to each other. The little cop plugged in a cassette and listened to country blues, and watched to see if their silhouettes got closer or stayed apart.

"I thought we could just. . . celebrate the end of our partnership," Lynn said to Breda as she stood by her car, keys in hand.

"I've enjoyed it, most of the time," she said.

"Ain't you ever gonna forget about that night?"

"It's forgotten."

"We work pretty well together, don't we? I mean, we solved your case and almost got the bald guy. I'm a pretty decent detective, right?"

"Yes you are," she said.

"I was thinking, after I get my pension maybe I could help you out once in a while when your work gets backed up.

"I don't think so, Lynn."

"You said you need somebody!"

"I do."

"Is it my personality? I mean, am I that hard to take?"

"Actually, you're funny and smart. You're even kinda nice to be with, sometimes."

"So why do I get the feeling this is goodbye? Why can't we go have a drink and talk it over?"

"I don't need a drink."

"So have a diet Coke!"

"Why don't you have one for me," Breda said. "And one for yourself. It's none of my business but a guy like you doesn't have to end up in The Furnace Room. Or like Jack Graves."

Breda unlocked the Z, but before she could get in, Lynn said, "Is that it? Are we finished? As a team, I mean?"

Breda nodded and opened the car door. But she impulsively turned and said, "I never did tell you: You got pretty nice buns."

Then she tried to grin, jumped into the Z, fired it up and drove into the night.

Nelson sat for a long time, watching Lynn's motionless silhouette. It looked so lonely under the velvet desert sky.

When the fugitive was twenty minutes from Calexico he looked at his watch and realized that his wife and eldest son might still be awake. After all, it was Saturday night and they had good TV programs to watch. He got unbearably excited. Suddenly, his throat swelled and tears started spilling.

He controlled himself when he approached the frontier, until he was waved across the international border. But when he arrived at his little street in Mexicali he began to sob and couldn't stop.

He pulled over until he was once again in control. He managed it by thinking of what the baby would say tomorrow when he saw his Ninja Turtles.