he could on the license plate number. After six blocks, I bounded up the steps to Liz’s apartment. I knocked on the door, looking back over my shoulder, my body bouncing from anxiety and adrenaline. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon ran through my head. Even mere seconds felt like an eternity.
I could hear her voice inside, “Coming!” she said. I could hear her footsteps. The lock turning, the door cracked open and I bounded through it, forcing her back.
“What the fuck are you doing?” She was yelling at me. I went straight for the window and peered out before jerking the curtains closed. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” She prattled on, standing in her sweatpants and tee shirt with the door open, demanding that I leave.
Instead, I rushed to her and forced the door closed and locked it. My eyes scanned the room. Liz watched my frantic movements, hesitant and jerky, as I paced around making noises but saying nothing. She fell silent and watched me for a moment, her anger receding and her concern growing.
“What’s going on?” she finally asked.
I stopped and looked at her, as if noticing her for the first time. Then I leaned over the couch and peeked out of the curtain as I spoke. “Someone’s after me. Someone’s following me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“On my way back from Palm Springs there was this car. I think it’s because—” I wasn’t sure where to start.
“Is there something wrong with you? Will you slow down? Why are you here?” Liz was unsure what to do with me. Finally, I sat back on the couch, my muscles went slack and I stared toward the opposite wall, but saw only the images inside my head — like puzzle pieces in a windstorm suddenly landing, and interlocking.
“Do you have any beer? Anything to drink? I need a drink.”
“Are you crazy?” Liz responded, the incredulity dripping from her voice.
“Look.” I began in a tone both frightened and forceful. “I got home today, about five minutes ago, and my apartment was trashed. I mean gutted, like in a movie or something. On my way home I thought someone was following me, now I’m sure of it. I think I’ve gotten myself involved in some serious shit and I have no idea what it is.”
“What do you mean trashed? Someone broke into your place?”
“I mean trashed.”
“Well, apartments get broken into.”
“No—” I cut her off. “Not like this. I didn’t stay long because it scared the hell out of me, but I didn’t notice anything missing. It wasn’t a burglary. Someone was looking for something. They went through everything. They cut the couch open, they dumped out cereal boxes, cut pictures open. They went through every square inch of the place. I don’t know who these people are. I don’t know what they want.” I stopped talking and just shook my head, my mouth open but no words coming out.
Liz got two beers from the fridge and gave me one.
“I’m scared” I finally said. Then I remembered the bug and set it on the table. “Here, this was in my lamp.”
Liz picked it up and studied it. She gave me a disturbed look. “Some kind of bug?” She squinted. “Why would someone be after you?” Liz sat in the rocking chair across from the couch. Finally, she set the bug down on a side table and asked, “What do they want?”
I took a drink from the beer and stared at the door, resisting the urge to look out the window again. “It’s connected to Andersen and Steele. But I don’t know. Something’s terribly wrong.”
“With what?”
“With the case, with Steele, everything.” I took another drink. “Look, I left work early on Friday,” I began. I told her about the check to Murdock, the cell phone calls, and Andersen’s threats. She watched me polish off my beer. I could see the concern come over her as the pieces fell in place. When my beer was gone, she got up and got me another. When she handed it to me she hovered over me and squeezed my shoulder. I forgot about everything for a moment and looked up at her. No words came to me, but she seemed to understand and accept the reason why.
I finished the story and my second beer and she got us both another round. When she came back to the room, she pointed at the file folder I’d dropped on the coffee table when I barged in. “So what’s that?”
“Shit, I