“Yeah, okay. So, like I told him, I’m an overnight bellboy. Last night, around 11 p.m., I was taking up some bags for a couple that had a late arrival. They’re staying on this floor, down the hall. I delivered the bags to them and when I was coming out of their room, I saw some dude walking to the elevators from the direction of this suite. He was walking real fast. He hit the elevator button a bunch of times, like he couldn’t wait for it to come. When the elevator came, I called out to him, asking him to hold it for me, but he didn’t. By the time I got to it, the doors had closed. I thought it was a jerk move, you know? I figured that if I saw him in the lobby I’d say so. But he was gone by the time I got down.”
“Can you describe the guy?” Jessie asked.
“Yeah, kind of,” Eli said. “First of all, he was old.”
“Like, how old?” Jessie pressed.
“Pretty old—older than her,” he said pointing at Sergeant Rhonda Ziegler. “Like maybe fifty? No offense lady.”
“None taken,” Rhonda replied, her tone world-weary.
“Anything else?” Jessie asked.
“Yeah, he had on blue jeans. He was in pretty good shape for an old guy, no fat on him. I couldn’t see his face because he was pretty far away and he had on a baseball cap.”
“Then how do you know he was old?” Karen asked.
“Because his skin was kind of leathery around the eyes and his hair—I could see it in the back. It was dark but had a lot of gray in it too.”
“You’re sure about that?” Jessie demanded.
“Yeah, it’s not like I’m old. My vision’s fine.”
“Okay, Eli,” Karen said, “Sergeant Ziegler’s going to hook you up with a sketch artist, okay?”
“I guess,” he said, “as long as it doesn’t affect my job.”
“You’ll be fine,” Karen assured him before turning to Jessie. “Can I talk to you in the other room for a second?”
Jessie nodded and followed her into the bedroom. Once inside, Karen closed the door behind them.
“I know you’ve been dying to tell me something for a while now,” Jessie said. “What is it?”
Karen walked back over to the nightstand and picked up the book she’d been holding earlier.
“Have you ever heard of this?” she asked.
“What is it?”
“It’s The Purifying Power of Potential: A New Creed for a New Era by Sterling Shepherd. He’s a self-styled personal improvement guru who runs an outfit called the Eleventh Realm.”
“I’ve heard of them,” Jessie said. “That’s the cult that operates over near Beachwood Canyon, right?”
“Shepherd wouldn’t call it a cult,” Karen said. “He’d describe it as a resource to unlock unlimited human potential.”
“That sounds a lot like what Addison Rutherford said in her outgoing voicemail,” Jessie noted.
“Exactly,” Karen said. “Between that line and this book, I think there’s a decent chance she’s an Adherent of the Eleventh Realm. And if she is, things just got a lot more complicated for us.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Livia Bucco wasn’t used to being patient.
Being “a” patient? Yes, that she was used to, she thought, chuckling at the wordplay. She’d spent most of her adult life in and out of mental institutions. But being patient? That was something different entirely.
Of course, lots of things were different now that she had the Principles to work from. She had to admit that, at first, she’d been skeptical that they would work. It was only a week ago that she’d been discharged from the Female Forensic In-Patient Psychiatric Unit at the Twin Towers Correctional Facility in downtown L.A.
When she first stepped out that front door, she was so scared that she was literally shaking in her tattered boots. But then she remembered what her good friend, Andrea “Andy” Robinson, had told her: When you feel like you’re getting into trouble, just follow the Principles, especially the Primary Principle; and lastly, always remember that your mind is your strongest tool. It can take you anywhere if you let it.
That’s what she’d done in the days since. When she had trouble getting admitted to the halfway house, she stayed patient, followed the Principles, and used her mind. Now she had a room and a bed. When the manager at the grocery store balked after looking at her application to be a bagger there, she applied the Principles and managed to get hired on a probationary basis. She even got a library card and a membership to the local YWCA, where she’d started swimming.
That’s where she was now, doing laps in the pool, wearing a bathing suit she’d picked up at a nearby Salvation Army store. She longed to visit Andy at Twin Towers to update her on her progress, but had promised that she wouldn’t. That was part of the deal. She had to show that she could stand on her own two feet. If she did that, Andy said that she’d know it, no matter where she was.
When she was done with her laps, Livia got out the water, toweled off, and headed for the locker room and the showers. Andy had told her it was important to shower regularly. People wouldn’t let you get close to them if you had strong body odor and Livia was making an effort to get closer to people. Besides, the place was so empty at this hour that she could shower without getting gawked at.
She stopped briefly to stare at herself in the mirror. Andy had advised her against doing that too often. She said that true beauty radiated from the inside out and that judging yourself too much on what was on the outside reinforced a bad self-image.
Livia knew she was right. Even now, as she looked at her body, she felt the familiar revulsion bubble up in her chest. She was well over six feet tall. Her stomach was big and her chest was small. Even with the showers, her skin was red and blotchy. She knew part of that was due to all those years on the street, as well as the drinking and the drugs. But she also had something that the clinic nurse had called Rosacea. It was one of the many reasons she got picked on as a kid. Because of that and her size, she got the nickname The Red Hulk, which stuck until she dropped out in 10th grade.
The self-loathing threatened to overwhelm her. Livia closed her eyes and pictured Andy Robinson standing in front of her, and began to quietly recite the Principles they’d discussed so many times in the psych unit chapel. As she did, she felt her breathing slow and a sense of calm return.
“You okay, Liv?”
Livia opened her eyes to see Kaylee McNulty walking by, wrapped in a towel, heading for the showers.
“Hi, yeah,” she replied quickly. “Just doing a little locker room meditation.”
“I should try that,” Kaylee chuckled. “Any way to reduce the stress, right?”
“Right,” Livia agreed, watching her go.
Kaylee was a sweetheart. A student at Southwestern Law School just across the 110 freeway, she volunteered at the Y a couple of days a week. She was the one who’d helped review Livia’s job application for the grocery store before she turned it in.
She was also incredibly petite and cute. Livia guessed she was a full foot taller than the girl. With her tiny body and effervescent disposition, Livia imagined that Kaylee was what a real life pixie cheerleader might look like.