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"I know her. She used to take pictures of Portia. She's a papa razzo."
"What?"
"A paparazzo. And a fucking psychopath, apparently."
The woman beside her looked over sharply. Even Hope had gone silent in shock at her language. Robyn mouthed an apology to the woman and inched down the bench, lowering her voice.
"She was at the police station."
"Adele? From the photo?"
"Right. She intercepted me. She wanted my cell phone. She had a gun, so I ran. She chased me. I grabbed another cab, went to another police station and she was there, waiting for me on the steps. She got there before I did."
"Okay, so - "
"I can't lose her, Hope. No matter what I do, where I go, she finds me. Finally, I found a police officer - a bike patrolman. She - she shot him." The air seemed to thin at the memory and Robyn had to inhale and exhale to catch her breath before continuing. "She shot him from behind. Killed him. I got a bullet through my shoulder."
"She shot you?"
"I'm fine. But she's still following me, and the minute I give her a chance, she's going to kill me, for a cell phone I don't even have."
"Okay, then, we aren't going to give her that chance, are we?" Hope's voice was calm.
"She can find me, Hope. Anywhere. I've lost her over and over, and no matter where I go, as soon as I think I'm safe, she pops up - "
"Are you someplace safe now? Where you can wait?"
"Yes, but - "
"Then tell me where you are and we'll come and get you."
"You aren't listening, Hope. She'll kill you. She'll kill Karl. She'll kill anyone who gets between me and her."
"We'll handle it. Just tell me - "
Robyn hung up. Seconds later, an unfamiliar ring made her jump. Her phone.
She flicked it off and back on, then dialed 411, called the station and asked for Detective Findlay. She offered to leave her number, but when the woman heard who it was, she had her stay on the line.
"John Findlay," a voice said a couple of minutes later.
"Detective Findlay? It's Robyn Peltier. You've been looking for me."
"Are you okay?"
That wasn't what she expected and she hesitated a moment before saying, "I'm fine. I'm at a spring fair in..." She wasn't sure of the exact neighborhood, only remembering that the cabbie said it was the Wilshire Park district, so she told him that.
"Fair?"
"It's a long story. I've been trying to turn myself in but - "
"You've been having trouble."
She paused. How'd he know that?
"I'll be right there," he continued. "Stay in a public area. I'll phone when I arrive. Give me... twenty minutes."
"Okay."
