“Okay. And tell Dick about this Barbie guy.”
“Why do they call him that, anyway?” Sarah asked. I told her about the thug’s rumored collection. “But doesn’t a grown man who collects Barbie get teased a lot?” she asked.
“Sounds like you’d only do it once,” I said.
25
I FLEW OUT THE DOOR, jumped into the Camry, and zoomed through four yellow lights on the way downtown to the Mackenzie campus. I approached the university from the north side, found Edwards Street, and drove along slowly until I found the covered walkway that came out by Galloway Hall.
It was dark, and I slunk down a bit in my seat, keeping my eye on Angie’s secret exit. I didn’t have to worry too much about her spotting the Camry. It was such a generic-looking car, and there were so many of them on the market, that it didn’t attract any attention.
It was almost 9:30 P.M. As it turned out, I’d parked right in front of a diner, and I was craving a coffee. Was there time to run in? I decided to chance it, since I could keep an eye on the back of Galloway Hall from inside the diner.
I got out of the car, went up to the cash register that was at the head of the counter, and ordered coffee to go from a fat guy in a white apron. I had it in my hand and was back sitting in the Camry before there was any sign of Angie.
As I sat in the car my thoughts kept returning to Stan. It was unthinkable, that he could be dead. There was already so much going on inside my head, so much that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, so much that I had seen and found out, that I felt incapable of processing this latest information.
I was on overload.
Suddenly, bright light shone out of the walkway. It intensified, and then the Virtue emerged, tentatively, because the passageway was so narrow. It was like seeing the car come out of a sideways mail slot. I could barely see Angie behind the wheel, but I could make out the silhouette of a second person in the car, in the passenger seat. Was it a boy or a girl?
And then there was no need to guess. The passenger door opened, and the same boy I’d seen her with the night before got out and unhooked the chain that prevented Angie from driving over the curb and onto Edwards. Once Angie had pulled the Virtue through, the boy put the chain back in place and returned to the passenger seat.
But before Angie pulled away, her friend leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. And then she turned her face into his, and then their arms were around each other, and I thought, Does she even have the car in park? Or is she making out while the vehicle’s in drive, her foot pressed down on the brake?
I probably wouldn’t tell Sarah about this part. I didn’t think I’d ever tell anyone about this part.
Thankfully, they broke it up after a few seconds, and Angie drove west. I pulled in behind them, my coffee stowed in the cup holder, staying a few car lengths back. When I could, I let another car slip in between us, just so long as I could keep the Virtue in sight.
Angie had the roof open and waved her right hand out in the breeze. The boyfriend put both hands through the roof, and then, for a couple of seconds, there were four hands waving in the breeze.
“Jesus Christ, Angie! Keep your hands on the wheel!”
All parents, I decided right then, should spend some time following their teenagers who’ve recently acquired their driver’s licenses. For sure, I was going to find a way to have a word with her about this.
The Virtue turned left, went a couple of blocks, turned right, then left, then straight on for a few miles. They wandered into the Heights, where the city’s movers and shakers lived in their million-dollar homes. Then they double-backed down to the waterfront, then over by the university again. It didn’t take long to figure out they were simply joyriding, taking a spin in the new wheels.
And when’s the last time, Angie, you made a contribution for gas money? At least, in a hybrid, she was wasting less of it. But it galled me, how kids could drive around for hours without any thought whatsoever to who was footing the bill. And another thing—
Shut up, Zack. Like you never did anything like this when you were a teenager.
The important thing was, throughout this tour of the city, I hadn’t seen Trevor Wylie or his dog Morpheus or his black Chevy once.
Maybe he’d tried. Maybe he’d followed her from home down to the university, and had been waiting for her at the main entrance, where you picked up your parking ticket. Maybe Angie’d outsmarted him by sneaking out the back way. I wish I knew. If he was still out there, but lost, it meant he’d probably be back at it tomorrow night. But if he’d packed it in, if he’d realized he was pushing a bit too hard, maybe I could let my guard down a bit.
My cell phone rang.
I struggled to drag it out of my jacket pocket and didn’t have a chance to see who was calling before I hit the button and put the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Dad?”