A high-pitched giggle leaked from Donnie’s door, and Jason stomped down the steps. At the bottom, he let out his own little laugh. He remembered the time when he was in the just-learned-to-write grade in school. He had written, in indelible marker, “Donnie did this” on two inside walls, a door, and an outside wall of the house. He’d even etched it into the wood of the coffee table. That’s when he discovered his parents were clairvoyant. Despite the clarity of the message, they somehow knew it was he, not Donnie, who had desecrated the family home.
On the sidewalk, he turned and looked up at the windows of Donnie’s apartment. “In case you didn’t know, big brother, it was me. And I’m not sorry.”
CHAPTER 23
A wasted day nagged Jason and promised another night of worry. Fast food was just fine with him, even though most of his colleagues refused to admit they sometimes strapped on that feedbag. But two double cheeseburgers sandwiched around a cold beer, in the pyrite dusk of his patio, kept calling his name—in all capital letters—until reality caught up to him. No patio until Lilin was caught. He’d have to eat in the artificial light of his apartment, all drapes and blinds closed tightly.
The restaurant was only a few blocks away. It was too far for a walk, particularly this close to dusk, but hardly far enough to get the car manifold up to full temperature. The mealtime crowd in the drive-through lane solved the temperature problem but not his worry. Could Donnie be that stupid? Well, yes. Obviously. But his carelessness was at an all-time high.
He pulled away from the restaurant, and a small compact car fishtailed in behind him, so close he couldn’t see its headlights in his rearview mirror. He accelerated a little, and the car kept pace. Rather than turn in on the golf course road that led to his apartment, Jason accelerated even more and drove straight past his turn. The small car kept pace.
An illegal turn at the next intersection produced two sets of tire squeals, and the little car bobbed into the opposite lane and corrected, nearly ramming the rear fender of Jason’s Volvo. A quarter mile up ahead was a freeway entrance. He could kick it into turbo and lose the little four-banger.
A thought pulled his foot from the accelerator. What if it was Agnes? He leaned close to the rearview mirror, but between the gathering dark and the reflected glare of the car’s headlights on the rear of his Volvo, Jason couldn’t make out any features of the driver. Not even a silhouette.
He stepped on the accelerator again, but the little car shot out from behind him, into the oncoming traffic lane. It jerked alongside and swerved toward the Volvo. Jason reacted, trying to stay on the road without hitting the curb. He looked over. The driver was definitely a man. A smallish man with his hair pulled tight into one of those stubby, high-placed ponytails.
The little car lurched forward, even with the Volvo’s front fender, and swerved again. Jason hit his brakes and so did the other driver, pinching the Volvo to the right. Jason swerved into the driveway of a strip mall, and the little car matched the move, now in full broadside again. It continued to inch at the Volvo, forcing Jason to pull to a stop, diagonal to the painted stripes, and against the planter border of the parking lot. The little car screeched to a stop, partly blocking a backward retreat.
Jason wasn’t sure what to do. If the creep had a knife, the car was the safest place. If he had a gun, it was the worst place. It was better to run for it. He caught sight of the man in his outside mirror, walking in his direction.
The man’s arms hung at his sides, each hand empty. And he appeared to be at least a few inches shorter than Jason, and of very slight build.
Jason shoved the door open and stood to his full height as quickly as he could. “What the fuck are you doing, asshat?”
The man stomped toward Jason and stopped just out of arm’s reach. “Where’s Eugenia?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Where’s Eugenia? Bitch stole my money and ran off with my car. Where is she?”
“You … you’re …” What was his name? “The writer?” Ferret. “Ferrell, right?”
“Just tell me where she is. I know she came back toyou. I want my money. And my car.”
Jason straightened his arm and leaned against the Volvo. The prick had a load of shit coming to him. “You have a car, and a mighty nice one.”
“It’s a fucking rental. It’s all I could afford. That bitch maxed out all of my credit cards. I had to go begging to my parents, God damn it.”
Jason lowered his arm. He pulled in a deep breath and let it out as if he were trying to blow the little man over. “Eugenia did stop by.” He wanted to tell a burning lie to get even with the little jerk, but just thinking of saying that he and Eugenia had hot, sloppy sex nauseated him. He opted for the truth. “She said she was hooked on drugs, no thanks to you. She wanted money to go to rehab.”
Ferrell’s knees seemed to buckle. “She was playing you, too?” He put his hand to his forehead like he was shadowing his eyes. “I’m getting help. I offered it to her, too. I would have paid for it. But she just kept using more and more. Then she split. With my stuff.”
Jason suppressed the twinge of sympathy. “So the monster you created turned around and bit you. If you want a Band-Aid, go somewhere else.”
“I don’t care what you think about me. I just want to know where she went.”
Now for the uppercut. “She probably ran off with some other guy with full pockets and a handy pharmacy. In fact, she probably hooked up with him months ago. Sound familiar?”
Ferrell’s voice seemed to be missing some of its original bluster. “She has more than my car and my money. She’s pregnant. I need to find her.”
A new wave of nausea cinched Jason’s stomach. “And she’s still using drugs?” No matter how much her behavior had changed, he couldn’t see her using through a pregnancy. She had always wanted a family. Not a child, but children. At least that was what she’d said. “Maybe she was faking it.”
“We did the urine tests, then had an ultrasound.”
Another twinge of sympathy. “Sorry, man. But the best thing that could happen to you right now is if the baby isn’t yours. You’d better hope she did to you what she did to me. Otherwise, you can kiss your trust fund goodbye.”
“I’ll ask one more time. Do you know where she went?” He shoved his hand into his pocket and brought out what looked like a toy derringer. He pointed it at Jason’s chest. “I’m desperate. And when I get desperate, I do desperate things. Right now, I’m out of options. I’m down to using this. So answer me.”
Jason backed up as much as his car would allow and raised his hands in front of him. “I told her to get out. She left. That’s all I know.”
Ferrell stood in place, the gun still raised. Jason could almost see his mind turning through the options. With a head shake, Ferrell lowered the gun and slipped it back in his pocket. “If you’re lying, I’ll find out.”
Jason wanted to push back, to tell him he’d be ready for him next time, but he didn’t want to push the twerp into the meltdown he may have just sidestepped. Again, he opted for the truth. “I don’t ever want to see her again. Same with you.”
Without another word, Ferrell turned and walked back to his car. He climbed in, started it up, and hit the accelerator hard.
Jason read the license plate number and repeated it as the car sped away. He repeated it again, then leaned into his car and brought out a notebook with a pen shoved through the spiral wire binding. He jotted down the plate number and flipped open his cell phone. He’d report the gun incident to the police and press charges. He didn’t want to deal with either Eugenia or Ferrell ever again, and now he could get one away from him. He didn’t need this nightmare. He had his hands full with Agnes. And Lilin.
He closed the phone without making the call. The desperation in Ferrell’s shaking hand when he’d pulled out the derringer told Jason to just steer clear. Once Ferrell found Eugenia, he wouldn’t come around again. And Eugenia would likely occupy Ferrell well into the comin
g months, dodging him, enraging him, or reconciling with him when all other sources of money proved difficult. It was a do-nothing situation, and Jason imagined he was done with both of them for some time.
CHAPTER 24
Lilin drove the Volkswagen across the Golden Gate Bridge and turned off on the last marked Sausalito exit. She wound through the narrow streets, nearly to the water, and turned left. The road ended with a wooden roadblock, but a double-rutted dirt path took off to the side and headed up a small hill. She’d scouted the road before.
At the crest of the hill, the makeshift road split. To the left, it led to a series of sharp rises that were used for four-wheeler and dirt bike hill climbing. To the right, it opened into a turnout that overlooked the water. Probably a make-out site.
She turned right and pulled the Volkswagen to the edge of the short cliff, facing the water. Before getting out, she searched the car for belongings of importance. Sitting on the passenger seat, an old copy of the Chroniclehad a front-page article about a North Bay honor student whose body had just been found. He was the latest victim of the escaped serial killer.
“Not the latest.”
Lilin walked to the edge of the cliff and looked over. It was only a fifteen-foot drop and not straight down. The eroded dirt formed a steep ramp, the kind a four-wheeler would like. Except this one went right into the water. By her calculations, the shore dropped at the same angle as the cliff, although she could be mistaken. At the least, the car would be covered with water at high tide, which was an hour away. At low tide, who cared?
She opened the driver’s door and swiveled in, pushed the clutch, and shifted into neutral. She got back out, reached in, and released the parking brake. The car rocked and then crept toward the edge. She slammed the door, ran behind the car, and pushed.
How will you get back?
Shut up. I don’t need you yet.
The VW picked up speed. The front tires dropped over the lip of the cliff; then the rear tires. The car accelerated until it hit water. The front end bounced when it hit the water, and the momentum launched the car like a boat. It didn’t go down right away.
Lilin let out a loud laugh. “I’ll be damned. They do float. For a while.”
She watched the car slowly move outward and downinto the dark water. She didn’t wait for it to disappear: the tilt of the front end told her the water was deep enough.
What are you going to do now? You don’t have a car.
I told you to shut up. You know I don’t need you.
Lilin walked back to the paved road, then to where the highway was in view. In this direction, the road didn’t continue beyond the two on-ramps. She stayed back from the highway so any passing highway patrol officers wouldn’t see her. She waited, her thumb ready.
It didn’t take long. A powder blue BMW pulled to a stop, and the electric window whined down. A young blonde gave a white-toothed smile. “You going into the city?”
Lilin nodded and circled to the passenger door. The inside of the car reeked of one of the trendy perfumes. Be Delicious, or something like that.
Lilin settled into the soft, beige leather and turned to look at the driver, who stared back.
“You have to buckle your seat belt. If my Dad sees anyone without a buckle, he’ll take my keys for a week. I just got the car. Do you like it?”
Lilin forced a smile. She wanted to ride in silence, not hear testimonials from a Chatty Cathy.
“I’m not kidding. I’m going to sit here until you buckle up.”
Lilin snapped the metal buckle and slipped her hand into her purse. Her fingers fondled the folded razor.
“Thank you. I just couldn’t bear it if he took the caraway. Besides, I have an appointment.” The acceleration squealed the tires. “Where in the city?”
“What?” Lilin wanted to cut her, but she didn’t do women, or a girl in this case. Maybe a Glasgow Smile would serve a higher purpose here, kind of like that chick from Ella’s home. The one who stole from Ella and a few other old ladies. Lilin smiled at the memory of her first woman kill. At least there was a man there as well. A two-for-one.
“Where do you want me to let you off, silly.” The girl’s head bob brought the perfume level back to overpowering.
“Anywhere on Van Ness. Is that okay?”
“Right on my way. Isn’t this great? I can take you right where you want to go.” She pushed on the accelerator, and the car shot up the on-ramp. She merged without looking over her shoulder. “It’s nice to have company.”
Lilin’s fingers twitched on the razor.
The young woman remained silent all the way across the Golden Gate Bridge, until she pulled into the toll plaza. She pushed the window button, and as it whirred down, Lilin felt the cool air, replacing the perfume with the smell of the ocean. She took a deep breath as the scent swirled around her. Wherever she went next, she’d have to stay close to an ocean. She needed this smell.
“It’s okay,” the girl said as she pulled to a stop. “I got it.” She reached into her Prada bag and pulled out a handful of change. “I like to make them count it.” She chuckled.
As they entered San Francisco, Lilin pulled her hand from her purse. She wanted to close her eyes and rest, but she couldn’t let Agnes back in. No telling what she’d say to the girl. And for some reason, Lilin felt no awareness, no memory whenever Agnes was around. It wasn’t like before Imola, when Agnes was in charge. She had been aware of every one of Agnes’s actions back then, even her thoughts.
“So, don’t you want to know?” The girl punched the accelerator again.
“What?” Lilin squinted the girl into focus.
“Back there.” She hooked her thumb back over her shoulder. “I said I have an appointment. Don’t you want to know what for?”
“It’s not really any of my business.”
The girl chuckled again. “That’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it. It just so cool.” She looked over at Lilin and let out another irritating laugh.
Please let her just shut up. Lilin envisioned the girl’s crimson blood cascading down the beige leather upholstery of the car. Or would it come out blue, the color of the car?
“Okay. I’ll tell. It’s my present from my mom. The Beemer is from my dad. For my graduation. And for getting accepted at St. Mary’s. I don’t really want to go to college yet, but I kinda have to.” She looked over at Lilin, but swung her head around when the car swerved toward the next lane. “So don’t you want to know whatmy mom got me?”
Effervescence was supposed to bubble off with time, wasn’t it?
Maybe if she spilled her information, she’d shut up for five minutes.
Lilin flinched. She looked at the girl. “What’s the appointment for?”
The girl giggled again, this time with ascending staccato notes. She took a deep breath as if she were about to go under water. “It’s for a consultation.” The last word came out loud, pronounced with a halting emphasis on each syllable. She blew out the remaining air and took another huge gulp. “I’m gonna get a boob job. That’s Mom’s present. Isn’t she just the greatest? Of course, she’s not my real mom. She’s my stepmom.”
BMW from Daddy, boob job from Stepmommy—all for high school graduation. Lilin gritted her teeth. Her hand slid back toward her purse.
You don’t do girls. Remember?
I want to make an exception. The world will be better off. I promise.
No response.
Hit a common note, didn’t I?
She’s pretty busty. She doesn’t need bigger breasts.
Lilin nodded in agreement. But the girl lived in Sausalito, where extraordinary wasn’t quite good enough. She tried to think of a word that went a step beyond extraordinary. Maybe D-cup.
Lilin looked down at her own cleavage. Women who didn’t know how to use what they were born with had no business thinking artificial enhancement would make their lives any better. They were amateurs in a game that led in only one direction—to unhappiness—for all
but the professionals. Shiny tools were no match for the dull, hardened steel of functionality, and functionality came from a self-confidence that was earned the hard way, not purchased from some outpatient surgery center.
The girl started talking again, but to Lilin the words trailed off to a dull hum. The girl was obviously nervous about the procedure, although the end point would surely dull the apprehension. Lilin wondered if the girl’s stepmom was one of those cosmetic surgery addicts. One who felt the fountain of youth sprung from the sharp blade of a scalpel. It was a puzzle piece that didn’t have to be forced into place.
Lilin’s request to be let off anywhere on Van Ness put her only a few blocks from the Tenderloin and within a mile of her destination. She leaned into the car before closing the door. “Good luck with your titties.”
The girl gave one of her patented giggles. “Thank you. Aren’t my parents just way cool?”
Lilin slammed the car door before she was tempted to extend the girl’s ride to forever.
You want to go the other way.
Shut up. I’m not going back to that mangy hotel. Not now anyway.
Later, she’d make a brief stop back there to pick up her belongings. It was moving day. And moving day meant it was probably a day for something else. A little business and a little fun.
What are you going to do?
Shut up.
A block from the destination, she saw it. It was in the front line but to the side. The owner of the small used car lot wanted to lure customers in with the lower-priced cars. The GTO was visible, but its price tag wasn’t. It wasn’t displayed at all. An interested party would have to ask. Lilin intended to ask.
It was a 1970 two-door. Bright red. She’d seen only a couple flaws when she’d checked it out earlier. The biggest in the lot, it had an automatic transmission. That’s probably why it was still on the lot. That and the price, whatever it was. She laughed. The price didn’t bother her.
Lilin unfastened the top two buttons of her blouse and pushed her breasts upward so they bulged from the top of her already uplifting bra. She undid the bottom two buttons and tied the shirttails into a knot high enough to expose her tummy. Who needed implants? Shesmoothed her hair with her hands.
Imola Page 14
