It’s probably a bad idea renting a car under my own name, but I don’t really have a choice. Perhaps I should try and bribe the clerk to change my details, but these places aren’t exactly like that. The only companies I can find are corporate ones that want to photocopy your ID and make you fill out sheets and sheets of paperwork, and besides, the kid behind the desk doesn’t look smart enough to actually understand that I’m trying to bribe him in the first place. I go for something that’s not going to break down on me before we even hit California, and then we get moving.
We’re on the road after that. I feel hideous. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it; Lacey is practically happy as I drive in distressed silence for the next ten hours. I’m distressed because I’ve decided that I can’t take her with me to this place. Zeth wanted to keep both me and his sister (even if he doesn’t know that’s who she is) away from the compound, and he’s right. There’s no way I can in good conscience expose her to that kind of environment; she’s too damaged, and God knows what will happen to her if I put her in a position where technically anything could happen to her. Technically anything could happen to me as well, but I’m not thinking about that. I’m thinking about going in there, screaming at Zeth for completely fucking up my life in the space of a few short weeks, notwithstanding the events that took place in a hotel room two years ago, grabbing my sister and then getting the fuck out of there. In my head, there’s no room for deviations from this plan. Even the prospect of the slightest hiccup might persuade me to stay with Lacey where I intend on leaving her, where we could wait it out and spend some time figuring out another way of reaching Zeth.
Which brings me to where I’m taking Lacey. Where I plan on leaving her while I pursue this undeniably nutso plan. As night begins to fall, Lacey doesn’t even bat an eyelash when we pull into Dana Point, at least an hour from our destination to the northeast. She knows the compound is in the desert, so she also has to know that this is not the direction we need to be heading in to find Zeth. I can barely remember the route to the quaint three-bedroom ranch-style house, painted a dusky orange, set back from the oceanfront—in my defense, I’ve only visited here three or four times. With my degree and then my internship and residency, I haven’t had much time for visiting. I pull into the driveway, silencing the engine, still waiting for Lacey to realize that we’re not where we’re supposed to be. She just sits on the back seat, comfortably staring out of the window even though we’re now stationary, not even blinking.
I get out of the car, wondering what she’ll do. She follows after me without a word, bringing with her the small bundle of clothes I bought for her from Wal-Mart. “You alright, Lace?” I ask carefully. She just looks at me, a mild look of surprise on her face.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
I can think of a thousand reasons, the most recent being the fact that she may have killed a man yesterday with a sizeable lump of sandstone. I keep my mouth shut, though. Instead, I walk up the path to the pale orange house and knock carefully on the front door. Flushes of nervous energy roll through me like waves. God knows how this is all going to play out. If I’m lucky, it’ll go well. If not, I’ll be searching for somewhere else to leave Zeth’s sister. Lacey joins me, giving me a pleasant smile. The front door opens and the eyes of the tall, thin man on the other side flash with sudden surprise and then happiness. He looks older than the last time I saw him. Tired.
“Sloane!” His smile grows, like he’s experiencing some quiet joy at the simple act of witnessing my disheveled state on his doorstep. I give him a weak smile in return.
“Hey.” I take a deep breath. “Hey, Dad.”
******