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late.”
    “Maybe I’m not going.”
    “LOL, I’ll see you soon.”
    Damn it. Whoever it was knew me well enough. I groped around for pants and a mostly-clean shirt. My late night and my rude awakening led to a grouchy mood. I rejected the next frozen-burrito-meal (breakfast this time) and stomped out the door to get some coffee and breakfast. I considered getting a beer too, but I didn’t know if I’d need my wits for this meeting or if more burly-pants were waiting to fight me. Though my new jujitsu skills were formidable, I wasn’t that anxious to try them out in real life.
    The ubiquitous airpot of Stumptown coffee gave me my caffeine fix--and that sour taste of French-pressed coffee that’s too mixed up after running through an airpot pump--and helped me to shake off the angry-tired-confused state I’d been in since waking. The local, organic, vegan, gluten-free muffin tasted like moist sawdust with raisins in it, but it did the job of soaking up coffee.
    Whoever was meeting me at Powell’s knew a lot about me, and I knew almost nothing about him or her. But at this point there was really nothing to do but see it out. At least Powell’s would offer some cover and witnesses, though the thug-life twins weren’t too concerned about witnesses in Pioneer Square, so maybe that wouldn’t make a difference.
    When I got to Powell’s I forgot that it’s huge and my anonymous friend hadn’t told me where to go. The street car dropped me off just across the street, so I circled the block—on the opposite side of the street—seeing if I could find out anything. As I got back to the beginning of my circuit my pocket buzzed again.
    “Just come inside. I’m in the coffee shop.”
    I didn’t bother to text back. I did, however, walk past the coffee shop windows again to see if anyone looked familiar. No one did, so I went inside as ordered. I hunted through the rows of humor books while waiting for my clandestine rendezvous. I’d just started flipping through a Sedaris book, trying to look casual, when a perky, slightly familiar voice startled me.
    “You want some coffee?”
    “Yah!” I said suavely while putting down the book and turning. It was the cute red-headed girl from OHSU standing there, still being cute.
    “Is that a yes?” dimples flashed on her cheeks as she smiled at me and cocked one eyebrow up.
    “Yeah, that’d be great.” I followed her over to the register where we waited to order our drinks from the disinterested barista.
    “Hey, how’d you get my number?” I asked.
    “You gave it to me…on the form…”
    “Oh yeah. Where did you go after that? I was looking for you.”
    “Sorry, I had to get out. I’d tipped off the cops and didn’t want to be there when they arrested Dr. Grosskopf.”
    “So that was you?”
    “You’re quick. Yeah, it was me.”
    We walked over to the only empty seats at the window facing Burnside Street. We watched the city walk by as we talked.
    “So why did you text me? Why did you think I’d be dead?”
    “I really hoped you wouldn’t be,” the dimples came back as she smiled at me, looking sideways through her mahogany hair. She wore an argyle sweater that clung to her fit frame allowing her to be sexy and modest at the same time. It was a nice effect.

Trials
    “Can I at least get your name?” I asked.
    “Sure, I’m Anka.”
    “Thanks Anka, I’m Corey.” I stuck out my hand to shake hers. But she just laughed at me.
    “Dude, you already told me your name when I filled out your paperwork at the doctor’s office.”
    I was embarrassed, but not defeated. She took the sting out of her mockery by touching my shoulder as she adjusted in her seat to face me slightly. My heart pounded in my throat.
    “So, um…”
    Before I could devastate her with my charming line, she unleashed the full force of her smile on me. It was like her dimples were wormholes into my soul. She leaned toward me, put a hand on my knee and whispered to me in a husky