“Doc? You all right?”
Okaaay. Apparently, there were two theme songs of the night: no memories and people asking him the one question he was guaranteed not to answer truthfully.
Looking up, he wondered what exactly he could say to the security guard: Hey, has someone turned my marbles in to Lost and Found?
“What you doing parked down here?” the guy in the blue uni asked.
I don’t have a clue. “Someone was in my spot.”
“Damn, you should have called, my man. We’d have fixed that quick.”
“You’re the best.” At least that wasn’t a lie.
“Well, take care—and get some rest. You don’t look so hot.”
“Excellent advice.”
“I shoulda been a doctor.” The guard lifted his flashlight on a wave. “Night.”
“G’night.”
Manny got into his phantom Porsche, started the engine, and threw her into reverse. As he drove over to the garage’s exit, he took out his pass card and used it without a problem to open up the gate. Then on St. Francis Avenue, he hung a louie and headed downtown for the Commodore.
Driving along, he was certain about one and only one thing.
He was losing his ever-loving mind.
TWELVE
U should be home by now, Butch thought, as he stared into space at the Pit.
“He should be here,” Jane said behind him. “I talked to him nearly an hour ago.”
“Great minds, great minds,” Butch muttered as he checked his watch. Again.
Getting off the leather couch and walking around the coffee table, he went over to his best friend’s computer setup. The Four Toys, as those high-tech bastards were called, were worth a good fifty grand—and that was about all Butch knew about them.
Well, that and how to use a mouse to locate the GPS chip in V’s phone.
No reason to zero in. The address told him everything he needed to know . . . and also gave his gut a whirl. “He’s still down at the Commodore.”
When Jane said nothing, he glanced up over the monitors. Vishous’s shellan was standing by the Foosball table, her arms crossed over her chest, her body and profile translucent so that he could see the kitchen on the far side of her. After a year, he’d gotten more than used to her various forms, and this one usually meant she was thinking hard about something, her concentration consumed by things other than making herself corporeal.
Butch was willing to bet they were thinking the same thing: V’s staying late at the Commodore when he knew his sister had been operated on and was safely here at the compound was sketchy—especially given the brother’s mood.
And his extremes.
Butch went over to the closet and got out his suede coat.
“Is there any way you could—” Jane stopped and laughed a little. “You read my mind.”
“I’ll bring him back. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay. All . . . right. I think I’ll go and stay with Payne.”
“Good idea.” His quick response was about more than just the clinical benefits to V’s sister’s doctor staying on site—and he wondered if Jane knew it. Then again, she wasn’t stupid.
And God only knew what he was going to find at V’s place. He’d hate to think of the guy cheating with some skank, but people made mistakes, especially when they snapped from stress. And better that someone other than Jane get an eyeful of what might be doing.