Nonetheless, she worried that it was reckless to have the girls accompany her all the way to the car, and possibly walk them into a violent confrontation. On the other hand, if the Wrong People were watching them, their sister act would be at once suspect if they parted at the car and the Hermiones returned to the mall.
She didn’t much like herself when she asked them to ride with her out of the parking lot, as far as Newport Center Drive, which encircled the mall. But the threat to the girls, in this most public of places, seemed less real than Terezin’s promise that Ashley Bell would die on his birthday, the day after tomorrow. Having passed the bag of books to the blonde, having fished the car key from her purse, Bibi slipped her right hand under her jacket, letting it rest upon the holstered pistol, as they approached the car.
No one rushed them as she keyed open the doors. People were walking to and from their vehicles or cruising in search of parking spaces, and everyone appeared to be without sinister intentions.
Hermione and Hermione were more taken with the ancient primer-gray Honda than they were with either the Ferrari or the Maserati, perhaps because it was an exotic vehicle in this province of luxury. Blond Hermione settled into the backseat. Brunette Hermione wanted to ride shotgun, still gripped by a spirit of adventure and hoping to milk another small thrill or two from the experience before it ended.
As Bibi backed out of the parking space, the blonde spoke from the backseat. “Instead of letting us out on Newport Center, can you take us down to Coast Highway, drop us off there?”
“Sure. Which side of the highway?”
“West. If you’re going south, that is.”
“I’m going wherever you need me to go.”
When she had reversed fully into the aisle, no vehicle rammed them, no bullets shattered the windows.
“If you drop us off at the corner of PCH and Poppy,” the blonde said, “we can walk from there to my house.”
“Done deal.”
They came to the end of the aisle, and no immense black SUV swerved in front of them to block their way.
They drove past a restaurant where one of the bulls with a shaved head and one of the silent-movie-gigolo types were standing together, talking. As the smooth lean one took the hands-free phone from his ear, the bull looked at the Honda but showed no alarm.
In the passenger seat, the brunette said, “What will they do if they catch you?”
“Kill me.”
Only a few minutes earlier, the girls would have been excited by the revelation of such high stakes, but not now.
“What did you do?” the brunette asked.
“Nothing.”
“Can that be true?”
“So far, yes. Listen, it’s better you don’t know anything more. I’m grateful for your help. I won’t ever forget you.”
The blonde had one more question. “Is there a way out for you?”
“There’s always a way out,” Bibi said. “Don’t worry about me.”
Having retreated earlier, fog was on the march again in this last hour of daylight, and no doubt it would surge a couple of miles inland, there to establish its tents for the night. Just before they reached Coast Highway, which at that point was a quarter to a half mile from the sea, a white wall rose before them, a towering slow-moving tsunami of mist through which headlights swam like golden koi.
Bibi turned south, and they rode in silence the rest of the way, until she parked on the right, just short of Poppy Avenue. The brunette opened her door and scrambled out. Then she turned, leaned back in, said, “Good luck, Jo,” and dropped the five hundred dollars on the passenger seat.
“Hey, no, honey, you earned that,” Bibi protested.
“You need it more,” the girl said. “I’m not on the run.”
The blonde took her friend’s place and said, “Hang tough, Jo. Don’t let the freakin’ butthole spiders win.” She tossed the other five hundred onto the money that the brunette had given back, and she closed the door.
Awkward in a coltish way, not yet having grown into their grace, the girls walked south, leaning into each other, sharing thoughts. The color of their clothes and the details of their forms faded as they proceeded toward the source of the fog. Even after they turned onto Poppy Avenue, Bibi could see them, because the corner property was a parking lot that served the Five Crowns restaurant, with no structures intervening. Hermione and Hermione looked back and waved. They probably couldn’t see her clearly, but Bibi returned their wave.
Considering how short a time she had known the Hermiones, she had developed a remarkable affection for them that now became even more poignant as they dwindled and eroded into the mist. Perhaps what so appealed to her was their combination of gameness and vulnerability, knowingness and innocence.