A/N: Thanks for sticking this story out with me, you guys! I appreciate the encouragement - it does keep me writing.

Chapter Twelve

4:30 PM

Oh, wow. Since the tape would incriminate Smitty, too, he must have kept it in case he got caught and he needed the help of the Governor's husband in his defense. I nodded my thanks for the information, and opened the door. I knew everyone had seen what I did, and they would know why, and I didn't really care. But we didn't dare stay away too long.

We re-joined the group, ignoring the meaningful looks the other guys threw our way. We'd let them all know, too, eventually, but not in front of Watson, of course.

The interview didn't last much longer. Gonzalez stood, pocketing the tape recorder, and that served as the signal. Captain Plunkett re-emerged, and Poole pulled out his cell phone and talked earnestly to someone. The door guards milled, and two other guys pulled Mike aside. Poole ended his call, and after a brief word to Watson, followed Gonzalez down the small hallway. Watson looked around, oddly abandoned in the middle of the milling.

I approached. "Did they tell you you can go now?" I asked, smiling.

Watson focused on me, uncertainly. Generally door guards are like background scenery, and you don't expect the wallpaper to talk to you. But, darn it, I was the one who brought the Seven Up and rescued the glasses. You know, the woman?

He pushed his glasses up his nose and gave me a shaky half-smile. "But I can't leave L.A.," he said.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?"

Lynn, I noticed, was following our conversation with interest, now. At least she wasn't glaring at me.

"We'll need to get a hotel," he said, half to his daughter.

"You're in a hotel," I said.

"No!" he replied, almost sounding like Lynn. Then he looked sheepish. My toes curled. It was an adorable look on him. "Uh, some other hotel. Cheaper, for one thing. I don't know how long we'll have to stay here."

Poole returned. "Mr. Watson, please call me this evening and tell me where you are," he said, holding out a business card. Watson took it slowly, as if it were an alien thing. He looked at Poole, and I could see he felt abandoned by his only ally. But Poole was all business as he snapped shut his briefcase. "I don't want you to worry," he said, patting Lynn on the head. "You aren't under arrest, and I don't think you will be. I'll let you know tomorrow morning where we need to be."

"What was in the bag?" Watson asked, still holding the card as if he'd forgotten to put his arm down.

Poole smiled and glanced at me. "We'll talk this evening," he said, and headed briskly for the door to the lobby. I watched with interest. Sure enough, as soon as the door opened, I saw reporters closing in. Someone pulled the door shut behind Poole, quickly. I wondered if the guy would make a statement on TV.

I turned back to Watson. "There's a Comfort Inn not far from the station," I said. "Walking distance. You don't have a car, right?"

"I'll need a rental, I suppose," he said, now looking down at the card.

Might as well go for broke. And take advantage of his somewhat vulnerable situation. "I'm off duty at 4:30. I could give you a lift."

My heart sank as I saw the expression in his eyes. Startled recognition that I was coming on to him, followed by shields and rejection. But before he could say anything, Captain Plunkett lumbered up to our table, and I stepped back to give him room.

"Mr. Watson, I'm Captain Anthony Plunkett." He held out a fleshy hand, and Watson took it automatically. "We're going to escort you out the VIP exit," Plunkett said. "It goes into the parking structure. Do you have a car? No? Well . . ." and to my eternal gratitude to a friendly Almighty God, Plunkett looked around and saw me. "Sgt. Schwartz will take you in a prowler to wherever you need to go, unless you want to talk to the press?"

"No, no," said Watson. "But . . ." he glanced from the Captain to me, and for a heart-stopping moment I thought he was going to ask for a different escort. "Our luggage . . . it's still in that van."

"Sorry, Mr. Watson, everything in that van is evidence. You'll just have to go shopping. Schwartz can probably help you with that, too." It was potentially a sexist remark coming from a superior who was a lot more than just potentially sexist, but I didn't care a whit. Shopping! I tried to give Watson a reassuring smile.

"Now I'm going out front to give them all some footage for the six o'clock news. That's when you go. Most of them know about the VIP exit, but they should be lured away when they hear I'm speaking out front. You got that, Schwartz?"

"Yes, sir," I said, trying not to sound too happy.

Plunkett turned away, to arrange to have someone give the press a heads up that he would speak. "I'll be right back," I said to Watson. I didn't look directly at him; I couldn't bear to see suspicion or distaste in his expression.

"Mike," I called through the group, and wound my way to him. "You gotta get another ride to the station." My partner nodded. He'd probably heard Plunkett. Most people do.

I had to pass through the lobby to reach my patrol car. The cameras and reporters were dutifully lining up, looking for the best backdrop, some of them speaking to the camera already. I managed to pass unaccosted and was admitted through the cordon around the van crime scene to my car. I drove around the block to the parking structure, and, on the second level, parked outside the corridor door. No reporters in sight.

The door opened, and there, flanked by two uniforms, stood Gene Watson, glasses, tie, and preppy grey suit, his daughter's hand in his. This ordinary guy who had done and survived extraordinary things today. My heart beat faster.

Watson limped to the car, and, somewhat to my disappointment, got in the back with Lynn. Oh well, I refused to be discouraged.

"Where to?" I asked cheerily.

"Western Union," he said. "I have to get someone to wire me money. My wallet's evidence, too."

"I'm Patty," I said, as we started down the ramp.

"Gene Watson," he said, and I could hear the small smile in his voice. "And this is my daughter, Lynn."

It promised to be an interesting evening.

The end.