Patty existed because of me. But I’d done nothing to help her since she came into the world.
I rested my hands on the steering wheel, looked at the Swain house shrouded in darkness, the cop car out front. “You make decisions years ago, not thinking they mean a great deal, and then years later…”
“It’s a bitch, isn’t it?” she said. Then, impulsively, she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Tentatively, so as not to put any pressure on my injury. “If you find my girl, tell her to get in touch with her goddamn mother, would you do that for me?”
“Sure,” I said, my cheek cool where her lips had been.
As she slipped out of the car, my cell phone went off again. This time, I looked at the ID. I didn’t want to talk to Jennings again.
“Hello?” I said.
“Tim?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s Andy.”
“Yeah, Andy.”
I’d almost forgotten Andy was out there trying to find this elusive Gary. There’d been a lot of events in the last couple of hours that seemed to have overtaken his errand.
“Okay, so, I ended up leaving that other bar. Some guy said Gary didn’t hang out there anymore, he mostly goes to Nasty’s? You know the place?”
“I know of it.”
“So then I went there, and hung around a bit, and had a couple more beers, asked if anyone had seen him there.”
“Go on.”
“So anyway, I got a lead on where I can find him.”
“What’d you find out?”
“Okay, um, it’s kind of complicated, but I’m going back to the dealership to check something out.”
“The dealership?”
“Okay, so, I’m thinking, actually, that this guy might have gone for a test drive last summer with Alan?” One of the other salesmen. “And Gary’s card, with a work address and number, might be in Alan’s Rolodex on his desk.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to turn up at the dealership. The police might be looking for me there.
“What’s his last name, Andy? What did you find out about him?”
“Okay, I didn’t get a lot, and I can’t really talk right now. But can you meet me at the showroom? By the time you get there, I might have the info.”
“The showroom’s going to be all locked up.”
“I’ve got a key,” he said. “Give a loud rap on the service door and I’ll let you in.”
I wasn’t crazy about the idea. For a second, I wondered whether Andy could be setting me up. Maybe Jennings was behind this call. But I was so desperate for leads I decided to take the chance. “Okay,” I said. “Twenty minutes?”
“See you then.” Andy ended the call.
I started up the Beetle, listened to the engine rattle, then backed up to the corner so I wouldn’t have to drive past Carol’s house, where the police car still sat in the driveway.
Any info Andy had learned about Gary—a full name and maybe an address—might tip things in my favor. Even if it wasn’t something that led me directly to Syd, maybe it would be something that would give me leverage. Regardless, I had to avoid the police. They were more interested in finding me than Syd. I believed the only one who had a hope of finding her was me.
I drove past the dealership once, looking for cop cars, marked or unmarked. The used cars in the west end of the lot sparkled as brightly as the new models under the lights. Never buy a used car at night, my father used to say. All cars look good at night under streetlamps. While the lights in the lot were turned up, the lights inside the building were turned down. The showroom lighting was dimmed at night to save on the electric bill, but not to the point that you couldn’t see the cars or people moving around in there. I could just make out Andy sitting at his desk up near the glass.
I went down the road a block, turned around and came back. The glare from the Beetle’s headlights caught Andy’s attention. I parked around back, and before I even had a chance to bang on the service door, Andy was pushing it open from the inside.
“Hey,” he said. “Right on time. Where you been?”
“Around,” I said as I slipped inside and made sure the door was locked behind us. As we were walking past the service counter in the direction of the showroom, I said, “So did you find this card in Alan’s Rolodex?”
“Yeah,” Andy said, staying ahead of me. “I got it.”
“That’s great.”
Maybe I should have felt excited, but Kate Wood’s death and constantly looking over my shoulder for the police had ratcheted up my anxiety level.
We were in the dimly lit showroom now. Andy headed over to his desk. He seemed distracted. Every time I asked him a question, he answered while keeping his back to me.
“So what’s his last name?” I asked, standing just behind him and to one side as he looked through some papers on his desk.
“The card must be here someplace,” he said. “I just found it.”