Blue Twilight (22 page)

J
ake kissed me on the cheek as I nestled deeper into the pillow.

“I’m out of here, chère. I’ve gotta get to work. Listen, is it all right if I take those pictures of the girls with me?”

“Sure. Go ahead,” I mumbled, barely aware of his footsteps as they crossed the bedroom threshold and went out the front door.

I stretched and pulled the covers over my head, trying to block the light from Su Lin Fong’s mirrors, while lazily wondering what photos he’d been talking about. Then I remembered. The images came flooding back in minute detail, complete with bangle bracelets, scars and butterflies. They were of Simmons’s band of runaway girls; those without anchors to the world. Teenagers that wouldn’t be missed.

That’s when I thought of something else. I hadn’t heard from Terri all night. Everything must have remained quiet on the Haight Ashbury front, otherwise he’d certainly have called by now.

I quickly jumped out of bed, showered and dressed, and then dialed his cell phone.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

“Enough already. Just answer the damn thing,” I grumbled, curious as to why he was taking so long.

I finally got my wish, though it wasn’t the response I had expected.

“Hello?” Terri croaked.

The realization hit us both at the same time.

“Oh, my God! I’m so sorry, Rach. I must have fallen asleep.”

My legs grew weak, and the room tilted ever so slightly around me.

“Don’t move. Don’t get out of the Explorer. Don’t do anything. Just stay where you are,” I tersely instructed and hung up.

I grabbed a few things and ran downstairs past Tony Baloney, all the while cursing myself for having let Terri take on such a weighty responsibility.

Calm down. Maybe everything’s all right. For all you know, Simmons is still fast asleep.

But my gut told me something far different.

You let him get away, you fool. Now you’ll never find Lily!

I flung myself in front of the first cab that came by, bringing it to a screeching halt. Then I jumped inside and prodded the driver to race like a maniac. I remained perched on the edge of the seat, ready to throttle him should he even try to slow down.

What a surprise. I finally caught a glimpse of the Haight as something other than a nonstop party. Of course, it was also seven-thirty in the morning. I guess even Grateful Dead fans and wannabe hippies eventually need their sleep.

The cabdriver breathed a sigh of relief as I leaped out at the corner of Haight and Ashbury and rushed up the street. Terri waved to me from the Ford but I passed him by, my sights set on the blue and lavender Victorian house.

I rang Simmons’s buzzer again and again, without any luck. I became desperate enough to pick up a couple of peb
bles and chuck them at his front window. However, there was still no response. I finally had no choice but to concede that the man wasn’t home.

I turned to leave, only to find Terri standing behind me, his face scrunched up and streaked with tears.

“Oh, God! I don’t know what to say, except that I’m so sorry. I feel absolutely sick about this. How could I have let it happen? What’s wrong with me, anyway? I’m a total dimwit. A pathetic loser!” he groaned.

Any anger I felt instantly vanished, knowing perfectly well the same thing could have happened to me.

“Don’t say that. It’s going to be all right,” I told Terri, and gave him a hug.

He broke into a sob, crying so hard that I pulled a ragged tissue from my bag and helped blot his tears.

“Listen, for all we know, Simmons left early this morning and went straight to his store.” I tried to console him, though I didn’t really believe it.

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” Terri asked, using the last of the soggy tissue to blow his nose. “Let’s get going.”

We hot-footed it down the street to Big Daddy’s Body Shop. But the sign advertising the specials of the day wasn’t out, and the place was dark and closed. Terri banged on the door, and frantically rattled the knob. When he turned back around, it was with a steely determination that I hadn’t seen before.

“We’ve got to go to Simmons’s house in Mendocino right now.”

“That’s exactly what I plan to do. Except I’m going alone.”

“Like hell you are,” Terri growled, seeming to have more Jack Russell than French poodle in him.

“It could be dangerous, Terri. I don’t know what I’m going to find.”

“Which is exactly why you need me along. I can be a useful diversion.”

I glanced at his curly blond wig, blue tapered shirt, and black leather pants, and had to admit he was probably correct.

“You have to let me help you, Rach. I’ll never be able to forgive myself, otherwise.”

I knew all too well how that felt. Besides, I didn’t want this plaguing him for the rest of his life.

“I’ll let you come if you promise not to argue with me, but do exactly as I say. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” He fervently nodded, as a few last tears slipped from his eyes.

It was precisely because I didn’t want a heated discussion that I opted against calling Santou and revealing my plans. As good as he’d been so far, Jake still liked to play by the book, and this was no time to defer to a bunch of tight-ass rules and regulations. Not when Lily’s life was possibly at stake.

We hurried back to the Ford, where Terri tossed me the keys. Then we raced across town and over the Golden Gate Bridge, driving smack into a marshmallow fluff of fog so thick I wondered if I’d ever really woken from my dream. It swallowed the bridge, holding us captive for a while, before grudgingly spitting the Explorer out on the other side. We wasted no time but hastily sped away, trailed by the wail of a fog horn floating hauntingly in the air like a rhapsodic aria.

Neither of us spoke as the Ford burned up the miles, chasing a few stray rays of sun that dared pierce the clouds. However, even those beams faded like a distant radio signal as we swung off the highway and made our way toward the coast. There an angry rainstorm rumbled toward us, brutally pelting the windshield. The tempest pursued us through the redwood corridor, along Route 1, and past Mendocino. It
followed all the way to the old Baker property, where I turned onto the gravel road and parked in front of the gate.

“Stay here. I’ve got to cut the padlock,” I ordered.

I grabbed the bolt cutter under my seat and ran out into the downpour, where the No Trespassing sign beckoned like a beacon through the fog. Once there, I positioned what I liked to call my own personal master key around the don’t-mess-with-me lock. The only difficulty was that I kept losing my grip while trying to wipe the rain from my eyes.

I must have had a guardian angel watching out for me, as the problem was miraculously solved. Though the rain persisted to fall all around, it suddenly stopped pummeling my head. I turned to discover that my angel was none other than Terri, who stood holding an umbrella over me.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’ve committed the ultimate sin by not following your orders and getting out of the car. But I consider this to be a supreme fashion crisis that overrides everything else. I hate to tell you this, Rach, but you look more like the winning contestant in a wet T-shirt contest than you do Holly Golightly being glamorously drenched by the rain. So just cut the damn lock already and let’s get back inside the Explorer.”

I grinned and did as instructed. One good snip and it fell to the ground with a satisfying thud, allowing the gate to swing wide open. The Ford chugged through, happy to be on its way.

The gravel road rapidly deteriorated into a muddy path bordered by a picket fence, its gray wooden planks resembling a row of chipped, uneven teeth. We followed where it led.

The trail ended at a Gothic house precariously perched on the cliffs. The rain slowed to a drizzle as I pulled up next to what I imagined must be Simmons’s car—an old turquoise Thunderbird bearing a license plate that read
DARK AGE
.

Terrific. Another insight into Big Daddy’s psyche that I didn’t find terribly comforting. Then I remembered having spotted the car on Ashbury Street last night.

“Now what?” Terri asked, apprehensively looking around.

“I’m going to see if anyone’s home. Do you want to stay here and wait?”

“Not on your life,” he replied, and scrambled out of the vehicle.

The rain had finally come to a halt, leaving the ground as wet as a sponge. The moisture permeated my shoes and squished between my toes, causing my soles to squeak like a pair of chattering mice. We slogged through mud and grass, careful to avoid the edge of the cliffs, not wanting to slip and fall.

I trudged up the lopsided porch steps and approached the front door, listening for any unusual sound. But the only thing to be heard were waves crashing against the rocks, like the persistent baying of a dog.

“Jeez. Quite the place to live, huh? It’s not exactly conducive for weekend get-togethers and parties. One false step off this wreck of a porch and you can kiss your
tuchus
goodbye,” he said, voicing exactly how I felt.

I bolstered my courage and knocked loudly on the door. The surroundings remained quiet; all except for the waves which continued to scream,
Go away! Go away!

The only other noise was that of Terri’s breathing, which had grown as rapid as a hummingbird’s wings.

“I guess no one’s home. Maybe we should leave,” he suggested, sounding as breathless as Marilyn Monroe.

However, footprints near the door insinuated otherwise, although their muddy tracks were dry. I tried the knob. It turned effortlessly under my touch. The door creaked open with a yawn. I pushed it a little wider and entered. Terri carefully wiped the mud from his shoes, and followed me inside.

“Anybody here?” he called out.

The quiet was so profound, I could hear the echo of his question.

“Holy crap. This place is pretty creepy, don’t you think?” he asked, pointing to a row of masks on the wall.

They glared at us with angry expressions, as if demanding to know what we were doing here.

“Just keep your eyes peeled for anything that might belong to Lily,” I responded, not wanting to admit that I was beginning to feel a little freaked out, myself.

Though I said nothing, I was looking for more than just a DVD collection of the TV show
Buffy
. My mission had taken on a dual purpose. I was fully determined to find proof that Big Daddy was also Horus.

We scoured every room of the house searching for the least bit of evidence. But nothing of Lily was to be found. Equally odd, not a single specimen of a butterfly was around. The only thing clear was that Simmons lived here. The house was as filled with things as his place in the Haight.

I gazed out a window, wondering what to do now, racking my brain for some kind of sign I might have missed. Instead, the amorphous face which continually haunted my dreams rose to the surface, metamorphosing into that of Big Daddy. I cursed Simmons for being the monster I’d recognized too late, realizing he must have Lily hidden somewhere else.

“I haven’t found a thing, Rach. How about you?” Terri asked, nervously twisting his fingers.

“Me neither,” I admitted.

We wandered back outside where the sky appeared bruised, still marred by ashen clouds hovering overhead.

“Trepler said there were twenty acres to this place. I can’t search it all, but I’ve got to try and cover as much territory as possible while we’re here. I want you to wait for me in the Explorer.”

However, rather than walk back to the Ford, Terri defiantly shook his head. “Sorry, but I can’t do that, Rach.”

I was afraid he might say something like that.

“Don’t argue with me, Terri. You can’t go tromping around in the woods. Look at the way you’re dressed. You’re going to mess up your good leather pants and Diesel shoes. Besides, we had an agreement. Remember?”

Terri derisively brushed off my comment. “They’re just clothes, Rach. And as for our agreement? I’d have said anything to come along. You should know that by now. You would have done the same thing yourself.”

He folded his arms across his chest, making it perfectly clear that he wasn’t about to budge. How could I have been so crazy as to think he’d actually listen to me?

“All right. Let’s get going, then,” I said, feeling far too pressed for time to stand there and argue.

But Terri remained rooted to his spot. “I think we should split up.”

I stared at him, completely flabbergasted. “Are you kidding? You don’t know this area. You could get lost.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I saw a roll of plastic yellow tape in your glove compartment. I’ll mark a trail as I go along.”

“And what if you get in trouble?” I fired back. “Do you also happen to have a weapon with you?”

“Who needs one when I’ve got my cell phone?” he retorted. “Just keep yours on, and I’ll call if necessary.”

It was as if Terri had rehearsed this routine on the drive up, armed with a snappy response for everything that I said.

“Too much can go wrong,” I countered. “What if you stumble upon Simmons and he gets upset? Do you know what could happen?”

Terri’s eyelids flickered and I wondered if he was blinking back tears. Instead he stubbornly jutted out his chin.

“You don’t have any say in this, Rach. It’s my fault that
Simmons slipped away in the first place. I’m going to help find Lily, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Besides, we can cover more ground this way. Unless you want to bring in the local police, of course. I’m sure they’d be delighted to rush out here and help you.”

My nails bit into my palms, but it was already too late. He’d carefully laid his trap and I was beginning to waver. Terri knew the police would never get involved. There was no proof Lily was here with Simmons—never mind trying to convince them that she’d been taken against her will. He instinctively sensed my dilemma and went in for the kill.

“Face it, you need my help. What if something happens to Lily that could have been stopped, only you don’t get there quickly enough? Then how are you going to feel?” he asked, expertly pushing my buttons.