I don't know this part of town too well and I only recognised the name of the apartment building because Angel and Quinn were arguing about when it closed down, how small independent cinemas were better than the big multiplexes. I wasn't really listening at the time, too busy working out the angle of impact on a crime scene photo that Masuka had messed up, to really pay attention to their squabbling. Now I'm here I can see what Angel meant when he said the building was a work of art, something 'hermoso'. Beautiful.
The white walls are rounded like the curves of a woman's hips and the thick stucco is so smooth it makes me want to touch. The angled wooden panels along the sides of the semi circle of steps leading to the doors are polished and shine like chestnuts. The doors themselves are work of art in their leaded triangles, blue and black, reflecting the morning sun in a startling display of colour. The building is shaped like an old fashioned telephone receiver and its arms welcome the newcomer. The windows, their three paned oblongs glittering in the first light are wide, spacious. The place has an old fashioned sense of beauty and protection. I can see why she wants to live here.
I sit on the bench outside, a little off to the side of the steps and out of sight from the windows unless you stand on the balcony and look right down on the top of my head. I sit here and I know she is nearby. Somewhere in my head Andy Williams sings 'On the Street Where you Live' and I smile to myself, has my life really become a musical? It makes a change from the usual gore fest. Though I like that too.
I'm still shocked by my conversation with Deb. Ok, so she didn't believe me at all when I tried to tell her that my dark desires were not about whips and rubber, but when I saw where the conversation was headed, what she might ask at any moment, I let her think what she liked. I could see it amused her. I'm glad someone's having a good time, even if it is at my expense.
Around the back of the building is the underground parking lot, not big enough now to accommodate the cars of modern cinema goers it's just big enough for residents of the apartments it now houses. For a moment I look up at the building and wonder how Lumen is affording to rent this place. Has she got a job? I stand for a moment realising she never told me what she did, how she earned a living. For a fleeting moment it makes me feel sad. This is the nearest I have had to a normal relationship, one where I could know everything and be known, and I don't even know what she did every day, before those men took her. I squint into the early sun, hoping that the light will burn this dark thought away.
Inside the underground parking lot it is still cool, the heat of the day not yet at its full strength and the concrete insulating the chill. There is no one watching the cars, maybe there is some surveillance but I glance around and I don't see any cameras. It's unusual, it shows that the people in this building trust each other, the outside world. I'm not sure how wise is their trust in society.
Some of the cars here are vintage models, lovingly restored and cherished and then there are other old cars too. These ones driven by the sort of people who see a car as a necessary item but not something on which to spend a particular amount of time or money. Lumen's car fits in to this category. Its beige metal work partnered with that wood veneer look so popular in the 70s. It's probably older than she is. I smile and stroke my hand across the hood. It's wet. I smell the soap on my hands and I know that, in the time I have been talking to Deb, Lumen has been washing her car. Clever girl.
From the looks of what I can see of the interior, the back windows have been amateurishly blacked out so I have to peer through the windscreen to really see inside the car, she's cleaned the interior too. There's no carpet in the trunk. She knows it's harder to get clean than the metal bodywork, even so she's got some kind of plastic board in there which looks like it can be removed if she needs to tidy up. I bite my lip, I'm impressed.
I scan the car for little signs of her life. There is a box of tissues on the passenger seat, pastel colours in a flowered box. Beside it a packet of mints and a scarf. The back of the driver's headrest is crisscrossed in pale blonde hairs, like a finely embroidered fabric. Looking at them I feel something welling up inside me, a bubbling sort of grief. They are so real. She is real, Dexter.
There is nothing else about the car to tell me that it belongs to her except a flat, square box on the dashboard. I look at it, frowning until I realise where I have seen it before. It is the box in which the gloves were wrapped when I gave them to her. The tiny piece of purple tissue paper pokes from under the lid. She kept the box. Stupid how a cardboard box, not even the real gift or even the purpose of the giving, can bring forth so much pain. Behind me there is a protesting squeal of metal and an ancient lift descends, its concertina cage screaming in pain as it is wrenched back, and someone comes out into the silent lot.
I duck down behind the car, stilling my breathing and telling my heart to quit its pounding because it sounds so loud someone a block away could hear it. I glance under the chassis of the old station wagon and see feet, in sneakers, coming towards me. It's her, I know it is her and all I can see are her feet. Panic and hope crowd my brain. I have an 'outside myself' sense of amazement that I am unnerved by the thought of her finding me when, usually I am so calm under other, more stressful, situations. She walks purposefully towards the car. If she comes to the driver's side she will see me and then I don't know what will happen. Will she scream? Cry? Run? I daren't allow myself any other thoughts. Killer instinct kicks in and I will myself still, silent.
Her feet move away from me, to the passenger side and she opens the door. I hear her rummaging in the car, the sound of the lid of the cardboard box being opened.
"Fuck." She curses to herself, the second time I have heard that word from her tonight. "Where the fuck is it? Jesus, Lumen. I'll have to go back. Great, just great." I realise she is talking about the glove, the one in my pocket. She thinks she's left it at the scene and she's panicking. I hear her stand up, slam the car door and then the twanging sound of her leaning against the door panel. I glance up through the car and see her back as she stands against the door, arms folded.
"He gives you two things, just two things, you stupid girl..." she shakes her head to herself, annoyance in her shoulders, the angle of her head. She's talking about me. I'm the person who gave the gloves to her and the pen knife. I smile to myself in the darkness of the shadows, me, she's talking about me.
"Hey princess!" A young man's voice, new footsteps, sharp, confident coming across the concrete floor. I hear Lumen sigh.
"Hello Peter." She says and I can tell she's smiling. A sharp stab of something goes through me, is it jealousy?
"What you doin'? On your way to work? Want a ride?" I hear the car complain as she stands away from its body.
"No, no it's too beautiful this morning to get in a car, besides I'm way too early, the walk will be nice." The young man sighs dramatically and she laughs. "You're up early too?"
"Yeah I am, got some things to deliver to the other side of the city, figured I'd hit the traffic before it hit me." She laughs again. "What you up to tonight, Elle?" Elle? Of course, the name on the deeds of the car. This must be the name she's using to rent the building too. I hear Lumen sigh, she scuffs one foot along the floor.
"You goin' out with your guy again?" The words are like ice in my belly, I feel myself sinking into the concrete, a slow, lingering death. I hear her breathe out, a long slow breath like this is a repeated question. My blood is pounding, my throat tight and dry. I want to, I need to, get away from this place.
"Yep. Dex is picking me up tonight, Peter." I start at my own name. What? For a brief moment I consider that she has met another man, someone else called Dexter. This in turn is followed by the crazy supposition that it was his name she was saying when she did those things in the bathroom, that it was some other Dexter she was invoking as she came. I clutch my stomach not sure if the pain I feel is real or imagined.
"He's a lucky guy, your Dexter." Peter says regretfully. "Does he know he's such a lucky guy?" I peek through the window, she is turned sideways to speak to him, it's risky and she might see me but she seems occupied with the conversation. Her eyes drop briefly to the floor before she answers, a small part of me interprets her glance as something sad.
"I hope he knows Peter. I hope so." Peter accepts the line which to me is obvious and glaring.
"Any man would be crazy not to appreciate having a girl like you, Elle." Peter sounds like he means it, he really likes her. "So, what are the big plans for tonight?" Lumen shrugs.
"Oh I think we're going to have pizza with his kids, just nice family stuff you know." Peter sighs again.
"You like children, Elle?" He asks, leaning on the car next to her, his arm pressed against her arm. She moves away but it's not a movement from fear, she just isn't comfortable with the contact. She nods.
"Oh yeah, hey, I have to, right? In my line of work! And Harrison, he's Dexter's baby, he's one year old. He's just so adorable. What a sweetie, like his daddy." Her smile is genuine, it lights up her face. I am frozen on this cold floor. Peter nods, I can see he knows he's defeated by this phantom boyfriend and his adorable children.
"What does he do again? For work? The way you talk about him Elle I'm surprised you two aren't sharing a house together somewhere in the suburbs. Nice garden for the kids, a drive big enough for this beast," he bangs the roof of the car and she laughs, "and Dexter's SUV."
"He works for the police." Her voice is short, she sounds hurt. "What makes you think he has an SUV Peter? Have you seen him pick me up?" Her tone is wary, careful. I see Peter shake his head.
"No, I'm always working too late to see your knight in shining armour Elle, but I just imagined him with an SUV, for all his kids, and you." He adds, patting her on the arm. She doesn't flinch but I see her tense up. "Anyway, better get on the road before it gets too busy. See you later Elle, have fun tonight!"
"I will." She waves as Peter leaves to get in his car, one of the vintage, cared for models. "Drive safely." He nods and pulls out of the parking lot.
When he has gone, Lumen sighs. It's not a happy sound. She wipes her hand over her face and sniffs. I want to say something, get up from my stupid hiding place and put my arms about her but I don't know if I should. I don't know what's making her feel bad. I don't have enough information to base a judgement on and I can't trust that I know enough about women to know why she's invented me as an imaginary boyfriend. Maybe she just wants to warn off Peter?
I'm not supposed to be here and the fact of this is like a knife to the chest.
She stands there for a moment with her hands over her face. She isn't moving at all and I bend my leg out from the position where it is starting to cramp. Then she seems to straighten her back, puts her bag on her shoulder and wipes her face with her sleeve.
"Oh for god's sake, pull yourself together." She scolds herself in a whisper and walks towards the exit. I give her a moment to get out onto the sidewalk before I glance at my watch and follow her. I still have an hour before I have to get to Batista's for breakfast and I have to know where she is working. She mentioned children and I'm intrigued.
She's not hard to follow, most people in the neighbourhood seem to speak to her even though she can only have been here for a short while. She ducks into a store and comes out with a newspaper and some milk which she swings at her side as she walks. She seems much happier now, I can't decide if that feeling of a fist around my heart is a good thing or a bad thing. I'm not used to this.
A few blocks on she stops outside a building and chats to an elderly lady who smiles when she sees Lumen approaching. I stop and walk back, sliding behind the brightly painted wall of the building. I can hear them speaking.
"Good morning, Mrs. Chester. Isn't it lovely?" Lumen sounds happy to see the old lady and this contrast with her previous mood somehow makes it easier for me to breathe. The old lady smiles in return.
"Why, hello, Elle honey. How are you doing today? Looking forward to another day with those rascals?" Lumen laughs lightly, the sound chokes me.
"Yes I am. We're walking them to the park this afternoon. It should be fun." I glance around the wall, the old lady's hand is on Lumen's arm. Lumen's face is turned towards the morning sun, her hair is shining, golden. I lose my breath.
"And have you spoken to that young man of yours yet?" The old lady, Mrs Chester, I correct myself, always liking to know who I am watching, gives a mock frown, shakes her head reprovingly. Lumen sighs and purses her lips.
"Not yet." It's all she says but it's two words filled with sorrow. Mrs Chester squeezes her arm.
"You just get on and call him. What can you have argued about so badly that you can't just call him? People in love should talk to each other. That's what Mr. Chester and I used to do, we used to talk." She smiles sympathetically.
"I will call, I will. Just, not right now. I don't know what I'd say." Mrs Chester shakes her head.
"Just tell him the truth honey." Lumen nods and makes to go. Mrs Chester watches her walk along the street and shakes her head. Then she slowly makes her way back inside and I see Lumen go down some steps into a building.
I stand on the street not really seeing the cars and the people starting out to work in the harsh sunshine. I am trying to process all my learning from the morning. And none of it makes sense. Am I her foil? A story she tells the people she comes into contact with? Her way of having a back story, a cover for this Elle character she has become? I don't know and I can't trust the small voice whispering that what she has said to Peter, to Mrs. Chester, has a kernel of truth.
"What if she is hunting you Dex?" Harry squints into the sun behind me. I shake my head, annoyed by his interruption of my thoughts. "What if all these stories are just her way of making a new identity so she can stalk you? Like Kyle Butler." I bite my lip. I shake my head but it's not a response to his question, it's an attempt to clear my thoughts. It doesn't work. I start to walk.
As I pass the building Lumen entered, I glance to its basement windows. It's a kindergarten. Bright daises are painted on the windows and the door, ladybugs, butterflies and caterpillars crowd the small stairwell walls. Through the window I see Lumen holding a little boy, he's about the same age as Harrison and he is grinning as she swings him high over her head. Her face is serene, the most contented I have seen all morning, the expression only surmounted by her face as she used the knife on Daniels. I carry on walking before she looks up.
Even though I have not slept all night and should be tired, I feel just fine. It's as though seeing Lumen has given me more energy. I decide to walk the last few blocks and by the time I get to Batista's I am a little late. He gives me a knowing smile as he opens the door and then I am assaulted by Cody and Astor, excited to see me and eager to tell me about their evening. Maria passes Harrison to me and I kiss his forehead and he tugs my hair.
"Maria showed me how to fire a gun!" Astor says enthusiastically. I raise my eyebrows at LaGuerta, who smirks.
"I ask you to babysit and you teach her how to kill a man?" I ask mildly and she laughs.
"I just showed her how to aim, it wasn't loaded." She says like it's the most reasonable thing in the world to teach a teenager. I raise my eyebrows at Angel, who holds up his hands and backs away. I turn to Cody.
"And what did Maria teach you, Cody? How to do a cavity search for narcotics?" The adults laugh and Cody frowns. Astor grins to herself quietly, alarmingly.
"What's a cavity search, Dexter?" Cody asks.
"It's when you look in holes for drugs." Says Astor, smirking. I look at her in surprise, Angel and Maria are chuckling.
"Oh." Says Cody, nonplussed. "No, she didn't teach me that, but she did show me how to restrain a criminal." I nod seriously.
"All very useful skills, thank you Maria." She smiles and goes into the kitchen.
"Pancakes?" There is a scramble for the table. I sit down, feeling something uncomfortable in my back pocket. I put my hand there and realise it is Lumen's glove.
So, now we know what Lumen's doing in her days. I don't think Dex can just go and talk to her, there's too much resting on the conversation and he's not ready yet. But I hope this whetted your appetite. I'll be interested to hear what you think of this chapter.
Thanks so much for your comments, feedback and support so far. It really makes my day. And thanks to VB for the wicked betaing. Cx