Page 16 of Anarchy Missing

CHAPTER SIX - LULU

“Where did you learn how to do all this?” I ask Randy. We’re up in the mountains about two miles from the western edge of Lincoln Wade’s massive estate, looking down at a drone in the back of Randy’s department SUV.

“Air Force,” he replies absently. He’s messing with a tablet. Presumably programming the drone to fly over the estate so we can get surveillance images.

We spent the entire morning coming up with a plan. I did my best to talk him out of us—meaning he and I—doing all this spy stuff ourselves, but he insisted that the CCPD has been compromised and we can’t enlist them for help. The drone was his idea. I barely know what a drone does, let alone how to fly one.

“I was a surveillance expert. Joined the military when I was eighteen, got accepted into a special tech ops unit, and this was all I did for three years.”

“When did you have time for law school?” I ask, backing up as Randy takes the machine out and places it on a tripod so he can launch.

“What?” he asks, not looking at me.

“Law school?” I repeat.

“Oh, I only enlisted so I could pay for college.” He stops to wink at me. “I realize I’m kind of a catch, but I’m older than I look.”

I take a sip of cinnamon-flavored coffee and consider that. He is kind of a catch. Still unshaven, still half-put together. Still hotter today than he was yesterday.

“Anyway, I got this, Lulu. Just hold on to the tablet and step back for a minute.”

I set my coffee down on the tailgate of the car, take the tablet, and do as he says. He picks up a two-handed controller with lots of little dials and joysticks on it, and starts working.

The drone is bigger than I thought it would be when he first mentioned it back at the office. When you see them on TV they look small. Like toys. But this thing has a wingspan of four feet. It barely fit in the car, even with all the seats down.

The propellers whirl, Randy gets a child-like look of glee on his face, and then it takes off. Straight up, like a helicopter.

“OK,” Randy says. “I’ve got Wade’s house marked in red. Come over here so I can see the screen as I fly.”

I scoot closer to him, using him as a windbreak. It’s not snowing, at least. Not yet. Which is why Randy dragged me up here after lunch. But it’s damn cold and the wind, though slight, is biting at my face.

“There it is,” Randy says, looking down at my tablet where the drone’s-eye view is on screen. “I’m gonna land on the roof.”

“What? No, we can’t land on the roof. That’s private property. I’m not even sure being over his house is legal. Who owns the air space?” I might need to look this up. I feel like we’re skirting the edge of the law here.

“The government owns the air space, Lulu. Besides, I got a warrant this morning. We’re fine. I wouldn’t risk getting this evidence thrown out in court.”

“When did you have time to get a warrant?”

“Lulu,” he says, losing his patience a little. “I’m the fucking DA. I have a hundred people working under me. I don’t need to get warrants myself. I send someone in, they talk to the judge, and bam. It’s done. Now, look at the roof. Do you see the chimney on the far east side of the house?”

“Yes,” I say, looking down at my tablet.

“I’m gonna land it there, the robotic arm is going to mount a camera, and then I’ll bring it home and we can get out of here. Sound good?”

“Yes.” I sigh. “It’s cold up here.” And this feels like spying. I’m not a spy. I’m not a detective. I’m a lawyer. I don’t think my job description includes covert drone surveillance.

He does all that as I watch. I desperately want more coffee. I want to wrap my hands around the warm cup and take long sips. So I stay quiet as he works everything out.

Thirty minutes later I’m an icicle, the drone is back in the car, and we’re on our way home.

“What are you doing for dinner?” Randy asks as we make our way back into Cathedral City.

“Dinner?” I’m so tired right now. “I think I’ll just go home and make a frozen meal.”

“What?” Randy says, making his way to the right side of the freeway so we can exit at D Street. “No. Come on. I’ll take you somewhere nice. My treat.” He looks over at me and smiles. “To make up for the unusual day.”

“Unusual doesn’t even cover it,” I say. I don’t want to go to dinner with him, even though I’ve been thinking all day about how much better-looking he is today than he was yesterday. “I think I’ll—”