Chapter Twelve

Haggis had agreed to help Stan, but there was nothing to do yet. He still had tasks open at Ossi-Pro. A few more sockets for the Everyday Carry, and the prototype on a manual partial hand.

A Marine buddy of his had gotten most of his fingers blown off. Not in a war, but from trying to light homemade fireworks. Still had his thumb and most of his palm though. He wanted to get something the guy could use before he had to abandon his post here at the shop.

At least he hoped he’d be doing something soon. Something new, exciting.

He’d turned his bench around. The lighting was worse, but he could see the front door. It didn’t keep him from getting so absorbed that he didn’t notice when it opened.

The rain had come and gone all morning. A period where it had poured in sheets between lightning strikes. When he looked up, it had settled into a continuous drone.

The top of an umbrella led somebody into the lobby. The whole thing was a dripping smiley face. Pink tongue hanging out of its goofy smile. It dropped toward the floor to reveal a lady stepping inside to shake some of the water off it as she folded it up.

Tan sport coat over a white shirt. Jeans and tan boots. Like desert combat issue.

Her dark brown hair was down, flowing over her shoulders. She reminded him of that cop lady from Lethal Weapon … whatever number it had been. More lines around her eyes though. More wear and tear that wouldn’t show on an actor.

She leaned the umbrella against the front glass. Looked around like she was appreciating the architecture. When she saw the poster on the front wall asking for donations for the veterans, she nodded as if she approved.

Her gaze settled on Haggis, and she smiled like she was surprised to see somebody there. A friendly smile and a wave, and he couldn’t help thinking it was an act.

“It’s really coming down out there,” she said.

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s been off and on all day. Can I help you?”

She put her hand over her heart in apology. “I’m sorry.” She pointed at his bench. “May I?”

“Sure.”

She buttoned her jacket as she approached. “I’m Detective Gustoff. I was hoping you could help me.”

She didn’t show any ID. No badge. Just like the assholes in the Charger. He leaned back to watch her, but she kept her hands in front of her.

“Are you Dan Rollins?”

“I am.”

“May I call you Dan?”

He shrugged.

Her smile widened like she was happy he had given her permission. “It says you’re the main engineer here? And Stan Franklin is the owner?”

He shrugged again. “I’ll be honest, I’ve never looked at it.”

Her smile slipped for the first time. “Is Mr. Franklin here?”

“No.”

“Do you know when he might be?”

“No.”

She looked at him like she expected him to say more, then she looked down at the bench. “May I ask what you’re working on? I think what you guys do here is amazing.”

Haggis picked up the hand so the fingers flopped like it was saying hi. “This is a partial prosthetic for a guy that doesn’t want to deal with motors and batteries and microchips. Something that will operate with the motion of the wrist only.”

He demonstrated,pulling in the thin cables that connected the fingers to the wrist, and they closed. Popped the lock to release them, and the fingers opened.

“It’s also got a splay function.”

He bent the imaginary wrist to the side, and the fingers spread apart. He worked them to close into a fist again. Opened it back up and turned the hand over like he was showing there was nothing up his sleeve. Locked the first finger and closed the rest. Pointed it at her like a gun. “Stuff like that.”

He thought she was going to clap. He had to admit it was pretty cool.

She reached out and touched the extended metal index finger with her real fingers. “All that just by moving his wrist around? That’s incredible.”

Under his work light, the lines in her face were deeper. More numerous. They told a story of worry and struggle. But the genuine wonder made her so pretty, he had to look away or get caught staring.

He suddenly felt shy. He wanted to talk about anything else except about what he was doing. “I wish I could help you, but I don’t know where he’s going.”

She drew her hand back. “I understand.” She reached into her jacket, and he tightened his grip on the metal hand. Braced for what might be coming, but it was only a business card. Blank except for a phone number.

“He’s not in trouble,” she said. “I just want to talk, so if you see him, give him that, okay?”

She waited for his answer, but he slid the card into his breast pocket. Held her gaze. “I’ll do it if you have dinner with me.”

The strength of the anger that filled her face made him flinch back. Then her face smoothed into a delighted grin. She reached back into her jacket, and he tensed again. The thought that it might really be a gun this time made his heart pound.

The danger felt good, even if he had imagined it.

When her hand came back out, he was disappointed to see it was another business card. “This one’s for you,” she said. “I’m new in town, and I need a good bar to go to and a friend to drink with. Call me when your work is done.”

He took the card, careful to avoid touching her fingers. “I will.”

“Then I’ll look forward to your call, Dan.”

“Call me Haggis.”

“Haggis?”

He made a circle with his finger. Surrounding his face. “Cuz of this.”

She shook her head, confused. “Is that a type of bear or something?”

He couldn’t stop the burst of laughter. “I’ll tell you tonight, Detective.”

Her smile was bemused. Almost timid. “Jeanette.”

He bowed his head. Stood slowly so he didn’t seem like he was trying to tower over her. “Then I’ll tell you tonight, Jeanette.”

His smile firmed. “I look forward to it, Haggis.”

He extended his hand, and she started toward the door. He followed at a respectful distance. Held the door while she opened her umbrella. He watched her dart out into the rain.

There was no other car in the parking lot. She ran into the street to the lot next door, hidden behind the sagging bushes. Through the rain streaking down the windows, all he saw was a grey blob as she sped away.

He almost skipped back to his bench. All he had been dreaming about was a change. He flicked the edge of the business card as he sat down, ticking a nervous rhythm.

He’d wait to see how the night went before telling Stan about a detective coming around asking questions. See just how much different things were going to get.