by Noelle Adams
His confidence is growing, Caleb thought with alarm, trailing along behind. He’s not quite so worried about being seen, getting caught. Well, he should be worried. In fact, he should be terrified.
The pier extended almost 800 feet from land, making the far end as remote as an island, even with tourists milling around. Pinkshirt stopped in at Ruby’s Shake Shack and picked himself up a midday treat, then took a seat a bench and looked out at the water. Nearby, Blake was standing at the railing, one elegant foot propped up in front of her. Caleb had brought the digital camera with him. He found a spot out of Blake’s line of sight, and made himself busy snapping pictures of the ocean, Surfer’s Beach, and – oh yes – a couple shots of Pinkshirt as he enjoyed his afternoon snack.
Eventually, Blake made her way back to her car, with Pinkshirt and Caleb in their usual parade behind her. Just as they were reaching the parking lot, Pinkshirt tossed his empty cup into a nearby trashcan. Caleb watched it go sailing, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. Pictures be damned, here was some a real lead – fingerprints, maybe even DNA. Something solid to feed into Steve’s hungry computer database.
Taking a clean handkerchief out of his pocket, Caleb surreptitiously fished the cup out of the wastebasket. Although he had to double-time it to his car before the Blake and her unwanted escort pulled out, he took a moment to wrap the cup carefully in a plastic evidence bag he found in the trunk. As he started the engine, he put in a call to Steve. “Well, my friend, I finally have some good news.”
Eleven
Blake drove slowly away from her brief stop at Malibu Pier, heading back to the beach house. Lunch with Mira had been fun, providing some much-needed laughs, but things in her universe were still way off-kilter. She had thought that spending some time on the pier, amongst the surfers and tourists and seagulls, all of whom laughed and called to each other in the particular language of their own little tribe, would help center her perspective. But even there, with the breathless expanse of ocean undulating against the horizon, she’d been uneasy.
It wasn’t, she realized, simply that she felt trapped inside a glass case – a genie in a bottle, as she’d so ingeniously described it to the cashier at the toy store. It was that she could feel someone outside the bottle, peering in at her. She couldn’t see who it was, but someone was out there.
The turnoff for Malibu Road was coming up on her left. As Blake eased her foot onto the brake and put on her turn signal, she pondered the coming evening at the beach house: the wide windows which in a few short hours would be dark with night, the pounding surf that muffled sounds, even when the next house was only twenty feet away, the screams of a stranger, which still seemed to echo within the walls. She wasn’t ready to go back there, and she knew it. Abruptly she changed her turn signal from left to right, sped up, and darted into a clear spot in traffic, neatly bypassing the intersection.
Behind her there was a squeal of tires and the solid thunking sound of bumper on bumper. Blake glanced into her rearview mirror and saw to her dismay that a fender bender had just occurred at that very intersection. She winced. Had her impetuous decision not to turn caused the accident? Trouble certainly did seem to be following her these days.
Her foot hesitated on the gas as she wondered whether to turn around and make sure everyone was all right. But even as she had the thought, a police car arrived on the scene, its blue lights flashing with authority. Relieved, she once more concentrated on acceleration, making the next right onto Malibu Canyon Road, heading up into the hills toward the house on Entwistle Ridge Drive.
The gates swung open with their customary welcoming screech, and for the millionth time Blake reminded herself to get those things re-balanced and the hinges oiled up. This was her house, after all, not Castle Dracula. No reason for any visitors to go screaming off into the night. Not, she reflected, that she had many visitors these days.
Blake left the car in the driveway and lugged Ernie’s present into the front hall. Later in the evening she’d move it to the spare bedroom for storage, and she’d find some good wrapping paper – something thick and expensive, which would give the little boy satisfaction in tearing it open. She’d seen the perfect stuff in a shop recently. Where was it?
Oh, right, when she was out somewhere with Caleb. Her heart, which had briefly begun to rise at the thought of her godson’s birthday present, sank again slowly. She didn’t want to think about Caleb, didn’t want to let him into her thoughts. What she’d told Mira today was true – it was probably for the best that Caleb hadn’t been to see her. He said he had business out here. Well, fine. Let him finish it up and ride that sexy motorcycle of his straight back to Iowa. He didn’t belong here with her and her mess.
She slid open the glass door to the back patio and stepped outside. Without a thought, she stripped off her clothes and dove naked into the silvery lap pool. As the water swept coolly over her muscles, she pictured it washing her clean, rinsing away her depression and unease, leaving her unsoiled and empty, ready to be filled with whatever happiness next presented itself.
So, she was in a hell of a peculiar situation. Wasn’t she always? “Weird” had always been her “normal,” so what was she getting upset about?
When she’d exhausted herself to the point of exultation, Blake climbed out of the pool and shook herself like a dog, determinedly flinging away the last vestiges of her melancholy. Then she spread a thick towel over one of the deck chairs and threw herself down, still dripping, allowing the sun and the wind to dry her skin.
It was a cool day, and the gentle breeze rose goose bumps on her flesh, even while the sun beamed its burning rays down on her. She heard her mother’s voice in her head, telling her to cover up and put on sunscreen, or she would be risking both pneumonia and a third degree sunburn. Either way, Elaine’s voice assured her, death was inevitable unless she acted immediately.
Well, okay, that little bit of Mom-related humor wasn’t really fair, and Blake knew it. Elaine had never been one to try to scare her with dire consequences for carelessness. But on the other hand, she’d never shied away from projecting vivid pictures of possible outcomes of Blake’s various actions – and, more to the point, inactions. All of it, of course, was based on Elaine’s deep love and concern for her daughter’s welfare.
But that didn’t necessarily make things more comfortable. A loving hand can smother as easily as caress.
Blake stood abruptly. She toweled herself off roughly, scooped up her clothes and headed for her bathroom. A hot shower was invigorating, and the cool glass of white wine that she poured for herself afterwards made the world mellow and just a bit surreal. She slipped into the silk dressing gown that Rube had given her for her last birthday, and lit a fire in the oversized stone fireplace before settling with a sigh into the deep cushions of the sueded leather sofa.
She sipped her wine, digging her toes into the luxurious pile of the Persian rug at her feet. From out of nowhere came the memory of another rug, a beat-up old thing, made of rough braid that poked you with its bristles. And the couch that went with the rug was cheap, in an ugly polyester plaid that was hard on both the eyes and the derriere. Yuck.
Blake stared sourly into the leaping flames of the fireplace as she recalled the old lake-house that had housed both of these furnishing atrocities. It was just a little shack up on Clarion Lake, a timeshare that her parents owned. It was falling apart and always smelled of mildew. So why, she wondered, did the thought of it suddenly seem so lovely, calling up memories of innocent summers: fishing with her dad, sharing books with her mother, laughing at everything and nothing? She’d give anything to feel that way again, even if it meant putting up with the polyester sofa and stupid old rug.
“Christ,” she murmured. “I obviously need more wine.”
When her phone rang she assumed it was Caleb, calling for his evening checkin. Good, this would give her the chance to tell him that he didn’t have to keep checking on her, that she was fine and he should just go abou
t his business, maybe drop her a card when he got back to Iowa. No sense dragging this thing on since it obviously wasn’t going anywhere.
But it wasn’t Caleb’s voice on the other end of the line. It was Greg Betch. “Is Rube there?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly. And before she could answer: “Please, Blake, tell me he’s there.”
A chill ran up Blake’s spine at the sound of his desperation. “I’m sorry, Greg, but he hasn’t been home.”
“And he hasn’t called you? You haven’t heard from him?”
“No. I’m sorry,” she repeated. She tried to keep the worry from her tone. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
He laughed miserably, and Blake could almost picture him running a shaking hand through his hair. “The only one who can help me now is Rube, and if he’s gone… well, then I guess I’ll be gone soon, too. For good.”
Greg’s fear was palpable, vibrating through the phone line and transmitting panic like Morse code. Blake gripped the phone with both hands. She knew she couldn’t afford to succumb to the fright that was trying to worm its way inside her. She had to stay in control of the situation, for Rube’s sake as well as her own. When she finally spoke, she heard her mother’s voice, pointed and direct, cutting through the fear with a sharp swipe of practicality. “Now, Greg, you have to tell me what’s going on. This is getting ridiculous.”
“Oh we’re way passed ridiculous, sister. We’re bordering on bizarre, in fact.” Hysteria had begun to creep into his tone, and Blake suddenly felt impatience flare inside her. For crying out loud, couldn’t the man give her a direct answer for once?
“Greg, snap out of it! What’s happened? What is it exactly that’s got you so worked up?”
Another laugh, this one dark and ugly. “Well, I guess you’ll know soon enough.” And with an abrupt click, he was gone.
Blake held the phone in a shaking hand and stared at it, as if it could tell her something that would explain what was going on. Finally she drew a deep breath and set it back on the coffee table. She’d come here because she thought she’d feel more secure than at the beach house, but she hadn’t really expected the darkness of this mystery to try to touch her here, not in this place where she’d always felt so safe.
Abruptly she got up and checked the security system. It was on, alarmed, including the front gates, which the digital readout told her were closed and locked. Moving systematically, she went through the house and closed all the curtains, checked the locks on the windows and doors. It brought back the memory of Caleb, and that last night she’d seen him when he was –
She stopped in the middle of the living room and turned around in a complete circle, moving slowly. The last time she’d seen him, he’d done exactly what she was doing now: made sure the house was locked up tight and the security system was on. It was almost as if he’d known something was wrong.
But that was ridiculous.
Wasn’t it?
How could Caleb have any idea of what was going on? She barely knew herself what was happening, and certainly on that day she hadn’t been aware of anything odd.
But he had, she could see that now. In her mind’s eye, she could see him: the soldier militantly fortifying her position. And then he’d retreated, and he hadn’t come back.
“No.” She didn’t realize she’d said it out loud until she felt the stubborn set of her lips that always accompanied the speaking of that particular word. “No. He is not involved in this.”
Obstinacy was starting to set in, she could feel it. There was danger in that, of course, because when she got into this mood she had been known to overlook unpleasant facts that were staring her right in the face. But she just couldn’t bring herself to believe that Caleb had any part in her life aside from being a sweet guy who made her laugh and who coincidentally had lovely bones that she’d very much like to jump, as impossible as that was given her current situation. Caleb, she told herself with childlike stubbornness, was good, pure and simple.
As if on cue, her cell phone rang again, and this time it was him. She picked the phone up gingerly and made sure to check the caller ID before pressing talk. When she heard Caleb’s voice on the other end of the line, it was as if a switch had been flipped, and light flooded into all the dark corners of her life. Here was safety, here was kindness. Here was someone she could trust.
And that was all she needed to know for now.
Twelve
“I am big,” Norma Desmond said, drawing herself up haughtily. “It’s the pictures that got small.”
Blake moved closer to Caleb and rested her head on his shoulder, ignoring the way the movie theatre seat dug into her side. On the screen in front of them, Gloria Swanson and William Holden were sizing each other up in a crumbling Hollywood mansion. Dreamily, Blake reached for the popcorn, watching Holden’s near-perfect features alter subtly as he tried to manipulate the glorious Gloria Swanson.
Oh, it felt good to be here, snuggled up with Caleb in the dark. When he’d called her this evening and invited her to a late screening of Sunset Boulevard at the little Los Feliz theatre near his hotel, she felt like a she was being thrown a life preserver. After Greg’s disturbing phone call, Caleb’s invitation had been soothing oil on the troubled waters of her psyche.
He’d picked her up around nine-thirty, brought her flowers and everything, just like a real date. When he’d looked at her, his eyes were full of such lovable warmth that it practically restored her faith in humanity. “I missed you these last few days,” he’d said, and she believed him. Just the way he’d held her hand when they walked down the street towards the theatre had made her shiver.
And she shivered again now as he put his arm around her and pulled her close. It felt good to be with him. Felt good just to sit next to him, to feel the warmth of his leg next to hers. It was the kind of good she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
When they reached the point in the film where Holden engages a fresh, young Nancy Olsen in a desperate lip-lock, Blake felt Caleb’s gaze turn toward her. His eyes burned a hole right through her. She lifted her head and looked up at him. In the flickering dark, they stared at each other. A long moment passed. She laid her head back on his shoulder, and reached for his hand.
After the movie, they strolled slowly up Vermont Avenue until they reached Franklin Street. They crossed the street and stood at the bus stop. They’d left Caleb’s bike at his motel and taken the bus to the theatre. Parking in LA could be tricky business.
Suddenly Caleb laughed. “I can’t believe I got you to take a bus!” he said.
Blake pretended to be indignant. “Why? You think I’m so stuck up that I won’t ride public transportation?”
“No…”
“Buses are great! They’re good for the environment.”
“So I imagine you take them all the time,” he teased.
She rolled her eyes. It was liberating to act like her old spunky self. “Oh yeah, I make a point of riding the bus at least twenty times a day. Are you happy now?”
“Very,” he said. He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth, taking her by surprise. It was a quick kiss, sweet and friendly. He straightened up again. “Very happy,” he repeated. And Blake could see that he meant it.
It was a short, lumbering ride down Franklin Avenue to the 101 Diner. Caleb climbed off the bus first, then reached up and helped Blake as she hopped down.
It was 11:30 on a weeknight, but the diner was surprisingly full. Blake smiled as several of the young people crowded into a series of booths along the front called out a greeting to Caleb. He nodded to them, then called to a waitress, “Hey Dina, is that booth free?”
“Yeah,” she said, not looking up from the register. “Go ahead. I’ll have someone over to bus it for you in a few minutes.”
Apparently, her farm boy friend was making a lot of friends of his own, Blake mused. He lead her through the crowd to a circular booth in back. It was a large booth, capable of accommodating at least half a doze
n people. “Are you sure they won’t mind if we take this one?” Blake asked. “There’s only two of us, after all.”
Caleb shrugged. “I’ve been coming in here practically every day, and this is always where I sit. If they get really full, sometimes Dina will squeeze a few more guests in here. Gives me an opportunity to get to know some of the local people.”
“That’s why all those kids up front know you?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Caleb made himself busy stacking dishes to the side, using a paper napkin to wipe off the table.
Dina came over to clear the table, smiling when she saw the results of Caleb’s work. “I may have to start splitting my tips with you!” she said.
“No sweat,” he told her. Something caught his eye and he sat up straighter to get a look at her face. Blake couldn’t see what he was looking at. “Hey, you did it!”
“Yep.” Dina smiled with pride.
“How does it feel?”
“It was easier than this one,” she said, and tapped the side of her nose. Then she turned to Blake, and Blake could see a diamond stud in her nostril, as well as a silver ring in her eyebrow. “I just had the eyebrow done today,” Dina told Blake.
“She’d been talking about doing it since the first day I walked in here,” Caleb added. “I didn’t think she’d ever get around to it.”
“Hey, I’m a busy girl, okay?” Dina laughed.
Caleb laughed with her. “Don’t I know it. Maybe if that hectic schedule of yours clears up, you’ll be able to bring us a couple of menus.”
“I’ll do my best.” Dina winked and walked off.
“Pretty girl,” Blake commented.
“She’s a good waitress,” Caleb said. “And she wasn’t kidding about being busy. Apparently she’s going to school full-time in addition to working here.”
“She was flirting with you,” Blake said pointedly.
Caleb gave Blake a don’t-be-ridiculous look. “She flirts with everybody. She works for tips, remember?”
