The Planck Factor

“The van—”

“Fuck the van and fuck you. And how do you know there’s a van outside my place? Unless, of course, you’re in it. I’m calling the cops. Right . . . now!”

I hit the button to disconnect and immediately dialed 911. In the few seconds it took for them to answer, I turned off the light and edged up to the window so I could peek through the crack in the blinds without moving them.

Among the vehicles in the lot, I saw a dark van. Looked like the same van I’d seen that morning. My stomach felt hollow, as if I were plunging down a skyscraper in a fast-moving elevator. What was going on? I thought again about the story, but no one knew the details except my writers group. And none of them would play a sick joke like this.

“911. What is the nature of your emergency?”

“Um. I’ve been getting strange calls.” My voice sounded strangled. “And there’s this van parked outside my place.” I groped for the right words, but they all sounded crazy.

“Threatening calls?”

“Not exactly. Just . . . strange.”

“Ma’am, this is an emergency line. If someone is trying to hurt you or break into your house—”

“No, no. And I’m in a condo.” My voice shook. “But this person called and said I was being watched by someone in a dark van. And there’s a dark van, just sitting there.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s no law against someone parking in a public place. And, just so I’m clear, did you say the caller threatened you?”

“No,” I mumbled. “Never mind.”

I couldn’t even hit *67 to trace the call. The private caller ID meant the number was blocke

d.

I closed the phone and, forgetting my hunger, decided to ignore the van and resumed my work.

Joe

“What now, Chief?”

The question came from Billy, a 25-year-old, red-haired freckled fellow, new to the game and full of himself, in Cotter’s opinion. From where he squatted on a small stool in the back of the van, the kid grinned at Cotter.

Cotter looked at Billy. “Keep tabs on her phone.”

“But I think we been made.”

“Did I ask what you thought?”

Billy frowned and turned back to the blinking console.

After several moments of protracted silence, Billy said, “You had the goggles, Chief. You could see that Evans chick as good as me.”

Cotter took a deep breath, as if inhaling the fresh air of a new day.

“It doesn’t really matter,” he said.

Billy grunted. “I just hope she don’t run.”

“What if she does?”

“Complicates things, huh?”

Cotter shrugged. “She runs, we follow. Simple as that.”

Billy snorted. “Oh, yeah.”