Time and Trouble (36 page)

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Authors: Gillian Roberts

Tags: #Mystery

BOOK: Time and Trouble
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The room was warm, but Stephen felt a chill, as if the refrigerator door were still open.

I

m sorry for the misunderstanding, sir. Sorry to have interrupted you.


What did you want with her?

Stephen shook his head and went back into the flouncy room, then to the hallway and the front door, and all the while, Arthur Redmond followed him, his belligerent questions piling upon each other.


Are you the one? Did she run away from you, too, now? Are you the one?

By the time he reached the front door, Arthur Redmond was shouting answers as well as questions.

Yeah, you must be. That

s the only thing that

d make sense.


It isn

t the way you think, sir.


How do you know what I think? And where is she?


I don

t know. That

s why I came here.


I was right

she ran away from you, too. Did she say she was coming here? After everything she

s done. She said things to me, about me. Spied on me.


Thanks for your time,

Stephen called out over his shoulder as he left the house, the porch, the front of the Redmonds

house.


I

m still talking to you!

Arthur shouted out the door.

Where the hell you think you

re going?

Not until he was five doors down and could no longer hear Arthur Redmond did he feel able to breathe freely. The suffocation was a feeling his parents too often inspired with their eternal war, and when he

d been a child he

d thought he would be strangled by the poisonous strings of words that ensnared him. But at least his parents battled at a lower decibel level than Arthur Redmond

s.

Penny

s mother wasn

t pretending to be crippled anymore. She wouldn

t go to jail for fraud the way Penny feared. He wondered what had made her stop the pretense.

He was so absorbed by his thoughts he almost tripped over a scrawny boy standing still in the middle of the sidewalk.

Sorry!


You were in my house,

the boy said.

I saw.

His arms were like skewers inserted in the knob of his elbow, and the backpack he dragged looked more substantial than he did. Stephen got the feeling that confronting him cost the boy a great deal of courage.

Who are you? Is my mother okay?


Who are you?

Stephen asked.

Who is your mother?


Wesley Redmond.

The boy

s hair was brown and straight and looked like it was cut at home. Stephen wondered how much taunting he got from his well-coifed classmates.


Penny

s brother?

A wispy cowlick accentuated the boy

s nod.

You own the hearse?

he asked back.

You

re the one? The Stewart?


Do you know where she is?

Wesley nodded again.

She saw the school bus and waited for me and we went for a walk. When we got back to the hearse, it was locked up. You went to my house?


I thought she might be there.


My dad sounded really mad. I could hear him from here.


He thought I was somebody else.


My mom okay?

Wesley asked.


She wasn

t there.

How sad that he had to keep asking that question, that the accustomed images and possibilities in his brain required that question.


Is Penny ever coming home? Does she tell you? She wouldn

t tell me.


I don

t think she knows yet. For what it

s worth, I think she should.


It

s way worse since you took her away,

the boy said.

I told her that, and I shouldn

t have, because now she

ll never want to come back. Could I live with you, too? She said it

s a big house.


What else did she say about it?


That there are these other people, too, in San Geronimo. I

ve never been there, but she said there weren

t pavements, like here. That there were horses around, and a place with a stream and redwoods. She said nobody carried on about the house the way our

That you had a bird that lived in your bedroom and a big kitchen where everybody hangs out and the other people lived there together for a longer time than you did, and this man next door has a garden that
…”

Stephen stopped listening. She had ruined his sanctuary. He

d have to move again. Look how freely the boy was relating everything he

d learned, and he

d learned too many details that could too easily migrate from this boy to his parents, to somebody else

and to Yvonne, who frankly scared the shit out of him. San Geronimo was tiny, small enough for her to track each street and watch each drive. For all he knew, she was watching now, watching Wesley Redmond, who

d give her all the information she could use.


She said she was going to get a job and then I could live with her and we

d go to court, she said, and they

d understand. She

d take care of me.


Ah, kid.

Stephen looked at the boy and tried not to notice the bright moisture filming his eyes. Another victim, he heard himself think

but whose? His?


Since you took her away,

he

d said, making Stephen the demon.


Ah, kid,

Stephen repeated.

It

ll work out. You

ll see.

He patted the boy

s skinny shoulder, then turned and walked back to the car. He could feel the eyes on his back, the silent plea to be seen, noticed, saved.

But Stephen

s

saving others

days were on hold. He was disconnecting the Penny Redmond distress line.

She was by the hearse, trying to look invisible in her old neighborhood. He didn

t want to see her that way

vulnerable and quietly anxious. He had no room for anybody else

s problems right now.


Get in,

he said, after he

d unlocked the doors.

I

m going to the police
—”


Why?


Because. Because if I don

t, it

ll nag at me. Because those are Greek letters on it, not a design and they could stand for something. A Greek word, or a name, maybe.

Because if I don

t, I won

t be totally, irrevocably through with you.


I

ll never get the lavaliere back from them.


Of course you will, once the case is solved.


Like it ever will be. A thing that old.

Of course she wouldn

t get it back, but who cared? He felt her eyes on the side of his face, burning, like losing her amulet was the worse thing in the world. And he didn

t care.


After that, I

m taking you to the house and I

m cutting out for a few days. I need to think before I go crazy. I need to be alone.

She looked stupefied, as if this idea were incomprehensible, beyond the sphere of the imaginable.

Don

t make me be there without you,

she said.

I don

t want to be alone with them. I
—”


This isn

t about you,

he said as he drove.

This is about me. I have to think and you should do the same. It

s not right to tell your brother you

re going to take care of him
—”


You saw Wesley?

“—
when you don

t know how to take care of yourself. It

s not right to tell him where you are, where I am, or that he

ll come there, too. And your father is furious about your snooping.


You talked to him?


I didn

t know where you were

I thought maybe you were making peace with your family. But he figured out who I was, and he is royally pissed with you. I don

t blame him anymore.


Oh, Luke!

He didn

t want to try the five-breath technique. He didn

t want to be calm.

He said something about your spying on him.


That was from before.


Who cares? The result

s the same. You really need to think of what you

re going to do from now on

and so do I.

Tears ran down her face, out her nose. He didn

t care. She cried, head in hands, all the way to, and even, he presumed, while he was in the police station. And when he returned to the car.

He wanted out, but he didn

t want to be cruel.

I didn

t mean to make you so sad,

he said. Then his shoulders slumped.

I care about you. I did. I still do, I guess. But I can

t take care of you, Penny. It

s too big a job and I

m barely taking care of myself. I can

t handle your problems and you don

t want to handle them yourself. I wanted to give you a safe place while you needed it, that

s all. Not a permanent address. Can

t you understand?


But it doesn

t have to be permanent. As long as we

re okay, the two of us, then as soon as I figure out what to do
—”


Call me when you do.

He had nothing more to say. He was tired of words.

She broke the silence within two blocks.

Somebody

s following you,

she said.


For God

s sake!

He pulled over, his heart racing. Yvonne. God help him, she was everywhere, spreading like a stain. He

d never be rid of her. Or of Penny. They

d be his barnacles, rock-hard growths attached to his flesh.

But he saw nothing peculiar in the traffic stream as it passed him.

Which car?

he asked.

Where?


Now I can

t tell, with us being stopped and all.


What kind of car?


I don

t know. Dark.


Black?


Maybe. But you know how those dark colors all look.
…”

He took a deep breath. No time for all five. He wasn

t going to let her terrify him, make him stupid. He took one more breath and, after a final look outside, behind his car and even ahead, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he turned the ignition key. The girl needed psychiatric help.


I saw it,

she said.

I

m not making it up. This car was just sitting over there across the way until you came out of the police station, then it pulled off.


Cars do that. They pull off,

he said.

She rode sulkily.

You

ll see.

She turned to look out the back window every few minutes.

There,

she said once,

there it is again.

His heart bumped and stalled before he paused for a reality check. There

d been nothing the last time, there was nothing he could see in his rearview mirror this time.

That so?

he asked wearily.

Can you tell what kind of car it is this time?

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