Street

he or one of his homeboys, the Tyrone Street Boys, would find her, one girl in all of the city of Los Angeles. He stretched out on the bench and listened in silence to the incoherent words of the man in the cell beside him. Tomorrow, he would find her. . . .

“Nice place,” Kayla muttered, looking up at the darkened house. She glanced at Elizabet. “How much does the police department pay you, ­anyhow?”
“I also have a private practice,” Elizabet said, ­unlocking the front door. “Besides, child, I bought this house fifteen years ago, before the rich folks decided that Laurel Canyon was the perfect place to build a fancy house. You'll see, it's not much on the inside.”
Maybe you think so, Kayla thought, walking into the wood‑paneled room, But I can sure spot a few things that would get me some good bucks at Mel's Gun and Pawn. She paused to look at a collection of crystal dolphins on a shelf in the hallway. I wouldn't even think of hocking those—they'd probably break when I was carrying 'em out. But the VCR, that looks like it's new, and it's one of the better brands . . . that could be worth something. . . .
A moment later, she noticed something else: the house was quiet. Not just from noise, but from the jangling pressure she'd felt for the last months, the sensation that the world was tightening down on her and making her crazy. Her headache faded as she looked around in surprise. Totally weird.
“I'm getting something to drink from the fridge. Would you like anything?”
“A glass of milk would be great,” Kayla said, and Elizabet walked away. Kayla studied one of the ­crystal dolphins; it seemed to float in midair, caught forever in a leap out of the water. Only the tip of its tail touched the cut‑glass water, the dolphin sculpture delicately balanced on that point.
“Do you like that one?” Elizabet asked, walking up behind her with two glasses of milk. “I like to think of it as a representation of life, balanced perfectly at a single moment.”
Kayla took the offered glass from Elizabet's hand. “Thanks.” She sipped the milk, then looked wistfully in the direction of Elizabet's kitchen.
“Of course, you must be hungry, child. I probably have some sandwich fixings in the fridge. I'll show you where everything is.”
Kayla followed her into the kitchen, and as Elizabet took out a plate and silverware from the cupboards, she asked, “Why did you say, `of course'?”
Elizabet was silent for a moment.