Part 6 (1/2)

The article was on the fourth page, and it was barely one and a half column inches. It said, simply and quickly, that Raymond Lilly, convicted felon, had been released from police custody in the matter of the several slayings, followed by a list of the dead. It was quite a laundry list of names. The official reason given for my release was insufficient evidence to charge me with murder, attempted murder, kidnapping, drug trafficking, a.s.sault and battery, and breaking and entering. They left out grand theft auto and discharging a weapon within city limits. Maybe they'd been short on s.p.a.ce.

What the article didn't mention was that certain prominent local citizens claimed that I had saved their lives while those crimes were being committed. It also glossed over the forensics reports that stated the people I had supposedly killed seemed to have been dead for days or weeks before they met me.

I looked over the list of names again. Some were strangers to me, but there were several I had known all too well. It still made me heartsick to think about them, even after all these months.

Irena's name wasn't on the list. I wondered if her body had been tidied away by the society, and I wondered if they would do that for me when my time came. Would people think I'd left the country or changed my ident.i.ty? I didn't have much in the way of family or friends anymore, but I had an aunt who'd opened her home to me when no one else would. I'd hate for her to think I wasn't grateful or wanted nothing to do with her.

Annalise finished her meal. I showed her the article, but she didn't care. I finished my breakfast while she paid the bill. I didn't feel like eating anymore, but I'd need the fuel later.

We got back into the van, and Annalise handed me a slip of paper with an address on it. I consulted the ridiculous tourist map and saw that it was near the toy factory.

We drove there through the mist and drizzle, and I realized that it was the toy factory.

The factory was actually two buildings. The first was a gla.s.s office building, four stories high, with curves instead of corners. If it had been in a corporate campus or an urban downtown, and if it had been ten stories taller, it might have seemed sleek and prosperous. Here it looked rinky-d.i.n.k.

The second building was an old warehouse. It stretched from the edge of the office building toward a thick stand of pines and a steep slope that could have been the outer reaches of the Olympic Mountains. The warehouse was three stories tall, although I doubted there were actually floors inside. It was ringed with cars, mostly new, inexpensive models-Kias, Hyundais, that sort of thing.

There was no guard at the entrance to the campus. I pulled in and found a s.p.a.ce at the west end of the lot.

I climbed out. The ocean lay before me, just within the limits of visibility in the misty weather. It had been a while. To the south I saw the shape of the light house marked on the tourist map. It was also obscured by fog, so I couldn't see much detail, but it was certainly picturesque.

Annalise and I walked to the front of the office building. The two s.p.a.ces closest to the building were reserved. There was a Prius parked in Charles Hammer's parking spot. He was a man who drove with a conscience. A black S-cla.s.s Mercedes was parked beside it.

I opened the door and held it for her. She carried a worn leather satchel like she knew what we were doing; I followed along.

The lobby was simple and elegant, if a little low-budget. Annalise stalked up to the receptionist, told the woman her name, and said she had a meeting with Charles Hammer.

The receptionist wore a name tag that read CAROL and had a burning hoop with a squiggle of black lines inside that, at first glance, looked like the sigil on my ghost knife or on Annalise's ribbons. After a second, I realized it was a stylized HBT, for Hammer Bay Toys. Carol looked at her schedule, then picked up her phone and told the person at the other end of the line that Mr. Hammer's ten o'clock had arrived. She hung up, smiled at us, and told us it would be just a moment.

The lobby had a slate floor and walls lined with something stained to look like unweathered cedar. A wide flight of concrete stairs swept up to the next floor. I toyed with the idea of asking the receptionist for a job application. Everyone in town seemed to think I should, so why not? It would certainly annoy Annalise. I was wearing clothes she'd bought, had a belly full of food she'd paid for, and had slept in a room she'd rented. I felt like her personal toy, one she would break at her whim. The urge to annoy her was strong.

The elevator dinged, interrupting that dangerous train of thought. A man of about sixty walked out. He wore a six-hundred-dollar suit, three-hundred-dollar shoes, and a twelve-dollar haircut. He had a wide, playful smile on his face. His eyes reminded me of twinkling plastic.

”Ms. Powliss,” he said, extending his hand. There was a little hitch in his smile as he took in Annalise, then his grin redoubled. ”I'm Able Katz, vice president of operations. How was your flight?”

”I drove. I don't like to have my head in the clouds. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Katz.”

Able turned to me, waiting for Annalise to introduce us. She didn't. ”I'm Ray Lilly,” I said, to end his discomfort.

”That's a familiar name. Have you been to New York?”

”I haven't,” I confessed. He shrugged, smile still in place.

”Shall we?” He stepped toward the elevator. Annalise didn't order me back to the car, so I followed them.

We rode to the top floor in the tiny elevator. The cramped s.p.a.ce made us all stand slightly too close together, so we said nothing. The elevator dinged again and Able led us out.

I looked around the office as we walked through it. There were desks everywhere but no cubicle walls. Carts and shelves were packed with stacks of papers, disorganized jumbles of folders, and a.s.sorted toys. Many of the toys were posed in various positions of everyday life. Heroic action figures sat around a tiny table holding flowery teacups. Barbie-type dolls dressed as Marie Antoinette posed like country-western line dancers. A tiny soldier seemed to be pondering a spreadsheet of sales figures, and another pa.s.sionately embraced a coffee cup.

The toys made me smile. In fact, they made me feel d.a.m.n good. I suppressed the urge to pick one up and put it in my pocket.

All the employees were middle-aged women. Every few seconds one of them would stop typing or what ever and touch one of the toys-just lay a finger on it or adjust its position slightly-with an absent expression that suggested it was an old habit.

An action figure dressed as an ancient Greek warrior but mounted on a huge eagle sat on the edge of a file cabinet. I ran my finger along the front edge of its wing and felt a sudden contentment. I could have played with that toy all day.

Three of the office workers were watching me closely. I left it where it was.

”I'm afraid my office is a little cluttered right now,” Able said. ”But we have a conference room set up.”

”That's fine,” Annalise answered.

I tried to study her face to see if she was drawn to the toys, too, but I couldn't get enough of a glimpse to tell. Able Katz seemed to be perfectly fine, and the workers around us seemed basically normal. One woman burst out laughing as we walked past. Able glanced over and saw that she was looking at a toy train with hands that were holding a jump rope. Suddenly, all the women began to handle the toys and smile.

Able grinned. That was just what he wanted to see.

He opened a gla.s.s door and stepped aside to let Annalise and me into the conference room. The windows were large and scrupulously clean. I couldn't see the ocean from here, but I could see the town. Hammer Bay spread out before me, stretching north toward the hills.

”I was surprised to hear from Jimmy Larson,” Able said. ”I haven't spoken to him since we were at Mattel. How do you know him?”

”Excuse me for one moment,” Annalise said. She drew the sc.r.a.p wood out of her satchel and held it so that only she and I could see the moving design. The lines seemed to be moving more quickly than usual. It wasn't a big difference, but it was there. She turned to Able Katz and said: ”Will Charles Hammer be joining us? My meeting was with him.”

”Mr. Hammer was unavoidably detained,” Able responded. For an absurd moment, I thought he meant that he'd been arrested. ”When one of his creative jags comes on, he goes into seclusion to work out the new toy.”

”I'm disappointed,” Annalise said.

”I understand. I'm sorry. However, I can pa.s.s to him any information you give me here.”

”Before we do that,” Annalise said. ”I'd like you to indulge me in one favor. Hold your hand out, as if you were stopping traffic.”

”And why would I do that?”

”Because I'm rich and eccentric and I'm asking you to.”

Able looked at us for a moment, then shrugged. He held out his hand, fingers pointing toward the ceiling and palm facing us. Annalise laid the sc.r.a.p wood against him. The moving design didn't change. She scowled and returned the sc.r.a.p to her satchel. ”Thank you.”

Able laughed. ”Jimmy warned me you would be a creative type. In this business, you get used to odd things.”

”It's funny Jimmy would say that about me. He's never met me. And I'm not creative at all. What I am is an activist.”

”Okay. What cause?”

”Human survival.”

”I can get behind that,” Able said. He snuck a glance at his watch. ”But I don't know why you've come to me.”

Annalise began her pitch then. It was about the clothes they made and sold for some of their fas.h.i.+on dolls. Annalise knew they made them locally, and she had a company in Africa that could do the work cheaper and where the people needed the wages more. She was calm and articulate, and I'd had no idea she could string so many words together at once.

”I wish I'd known this was what our meeting would be about. I could have saved you the trouble. Mr. Hammer is adamant about sending work overseas. He won't do it under any circ.u.mstances. He started this company, in part, to revitalize Hammer Bay. See, he's also an activist, but his sole cause is the survival of the town his great-grandfather founded.”

Annalise pressed him. She knew he had more orders than he could fill, and that he'd turned buyers away at the last toy fair. The company- Able interrupted her. He understood and respected her pa.s.sion for her cause. He'd had her checked out before the meeting, but if he'd known this was what she wanted, he would have saved her the trip. Mr. Hammer would rather burn the company to the ground than outsource the work.