"No," Alex said. "But I think I have bounty hunters chasing me."
"You jump bail anywhere?"
"No," Alex said. "That's the point. I don't know what these people think they are doing."
The assistant said she would check. Jamie, walking alongside Alex, said, "What's a bowie hunter? Why is she chasing you, Mom?"
"I'm trying to find out, Jamie. I think it's a mistake."
"Were they trying tohurt you?"
"No, no. Nothing like that." There was no reason to make him worry.
The assistant called back.
"Okay, you do have a complaint, all right. In Superior Court, Ventura County."
That was a good hour from Los Angeles, up past Oxnard. "What's the complaint?"
"It was filed by BioGen Research Incorporated of Westview Village. I can't read the complaint online. But you're showing up as a failure to appear."
"Appear when?"
"Yesterday."
"Was I served?"
"Indicates you were."
"I wasn't," Alex said.
"Shows you were."
"So, is there a contempt citation? A warrant for my arrest?"
"Nothing's showing. But the online lags up to a day, so there might be."
Alex flipped the phone shut.
Jamie said, "Are you going to be arrested?"
"No, honey. I'm not."
"Then can I go back to school after lunch?"
"We'll see."
Her apartment building,on the north side of Roxbury Park, looked quiet in the midday sun. Alex stood on the other side of the park and watched for a while.
"Why are we waiting?" Jamie said.
"Just for a minute."
"It's been a minute already."
"No, it hasn't."
She was watching the man in coveralls, going around the side of the house. He looked like the meter reader for the utility company. Except that he was big, with a bad wig and a trimmed black goatee that she had seen somewhere before. And the meter readers never came to the front. They always entered from the back alley.
She was thinking that if this guy was a bounty hunter, he had the right to enter her property without warning and without a warrant. He could break down the door, if he wanted to. He had the right to search her apartment, to go through her things, to take her computer and inspect the hard drive. He could do whatever he wanted to do to apprehend a fugitive. But she wasn't a -
"Can we go in, Mom?" Jamie whined. "Please?"
Her son was right about one thing. They couldn't just stand there. There was a sandbox in the middle of the park, several kids, maids, and mothers sitting around.
"Let's go play in the sandbox."
"I don't want to."
"Yes."
"It's for babies."
"Just for a while, James."
He stamped his foot, and sat down on the edge of the sandbox. He kicked sand irritably while Alex dialed her assistant.
"Amy, I am wondering about BioGen, the company that bought my father's cell line. We don't have any motions pending, do we?"
"No. California Supreme Court is a year from now."
So what's going on?she wondered. What kind of suit was BioGen bringing now? "Call the judge's clerk up in Ventura. Find out what this is about."
"Okay."
"Have we heard from my father?"
"Not for a while."
"Okay." It actually wasn't okay, because she was now having the strong feeling that all this had to do with her father. Or at least with her father's cells. The bounty hunters had brought an ambulance - with a doctor in the back - because they were going to take a sample, or do some surgical procedure. Long needles. She'd seen sunlight glint on long needles wrapped in plastic, as the doctor at the back of the ambulance shuffled things about.
Then it hit her:They wanted to take their cells .
They wanted cells from her, or from her son. She couldn't imagine why. But they clearly felt entitled to take them. Should she call the police? Not yet, she decided. If there were a warrant for her failure to appear, they'd simply take her into custody. And then what would she do about Jamie? She shook her head.
Right now, she needed time to figure out what was going on. Time to get everything straightened out. What was she supposed to do? She wanted to call her father, but he hadn't been answering for days. If these guys knew where she lived, they would know what kind of car she had, and -
"Amy," she said, "how'd you like to drive my car for a couple of days?"
"The BMW? Sure. But - "
"And I'll drive yours," Alex said. "But you need to bring it over to me. Stop that, Jamie. Stop kicking sand."
"Are you sure? It's a Toyota with a bunch of dents."
"Actually, that sounds perfect. Come to the southwest side of Roxbury Park, and pull over in front of a white Spanish apartment building with wrought-iron gates in front."
Alex was unpreparedby temperament and training for the situation in which she now found herself. All her life had been spent in the sunlight. She obeyed the rules. She was an officer of the court. She played the game. She didn't run yellow lights; she didn't park in the red; she didn't cheat on her taxes. At the firm, she was regarded as by-the-book, stodgy. She told clients, "Rules are made to be followed, not twisted." And she meant it.
Five years earlier, when she discovered her husband was screwing around on her, she threw him out within an hour of learning the truth. She packed his bag and put it outside the door, and had the locks changed. When he came back from his "fishing trip," she spoke through the door and told him to get lost. Matt was actually screwing one of her best friends - that was Matt's way - and she never again spoke to that woman.