Nessa was almost overcome with the desire to start whispering obscenities into the device, to assault the ears and guts of the asshole listening in. She fetched her speakers and plugged them into her phone, then cranked “Fuck You” by Cee Lo Green, hoping the sheer volume of the song left the listeners’ ears bleeding. She left it playing near the bug, went to the kitchen and got a knife, then returned and eased the blade beneath the edge of the bug. It popped off into her left palm. She set the knife down, then picked up the speakers and her phone with her right hand and went out the back door.
Nessa estimated that the garage was about twenty yards from the house, but she kept the music going as she set the bug on the passenger seat and started up the Pacifica.
And then something insane happened. Green’s jubilant bravado and the tune’s funky groove infused her with a defiant, carefree joy that transcended this shitstorm she called her life. A joy she hadn’t felt in many months outside of her son’s presence. She drove under the shield of this joy all the way to her neighbors’ house with the windows down, the heat and humidity and smells of the woods and the fields filling her senses.
Just for this moment, she was in control. She was acting instead of reacting. Just for this moment.
She pulled up to Mac and Lauren’s house and turned off the music, and she had to calm herself down so she wouldn’t look like a complete wack--job. Ziggy and Tosh were jumping on the hosed--down trampoline, their shorts and dreadlocks dripping.
“Hi, Nessa,” they both called as she got out of the car.
Nessa just waved, even though she assumed that the bug was no longer transmitting. Better not to take chances.
Mac came out of the back door. He beckoned her to the Adirondack chairs and held out his hand. She put the black plastic square in it.
“Wow,” Mac said. “I’ve never seen one like this before.” He turned it over. “I’ll take it apart and see if it has a SIM card. The bug might be tied to a cell phone number, in which case, we can find your troll, or at least his cell phone number. Then maybe the cops can track him through his phone.” He looked up at Nessa. “Are you all right?”
“If you can figure all that stuff out,” Nessa said, “I will be.”
Thursday, June 30
NESSA SPENT THE endless day working on her computer, waiting for Daltrey and Isabeau to reappear. At three P.M., she heard tires crunching dirt and gravel outside and looked out the window. It was Linda and Tony, right on time.
She ran outside and saw that Daltrey was dead asleep in his car seat. Then she remembered what she had to tell her in--laws.
Nessa stuck her head in the driver’s side window and told Tony to keep the car running so Daltrey could keep napping because she had something to tell them.
Tony paled as he got out of the car. She hugged them both and broke the news about the body in the lake. Tony cried, of course, and Linda even teared up.
“It’s going to be a -couple of weeks before they can determine if it’s John,” Nessa said. “So I know this is hard, but if you want to start thinking about arrangements, I think we should have the memorial in Russell, don’t you?”
The grateful expressions on their faces broke Nessa’s heart. They hugged her again.
“I’m so sorry,” Nessa said, and cried. “I tried to keep him clean, I just—-”
“It’s not your fault,” Linda said, smoothing Nessa’s hair.
“Do you want to come in?” Nessa said.
“No,” Tony said. “We want to get home before dark. Would you call us when you find out . . . anything?”
“Yes,” Nessa said, then got Daltrey out of the car. He opened his sleepy eyes and grinned at her.
“Hi, baby, how are you?” she asked.
He signed “Fine,” and Linda sighed.
“I tried,” she said.
“It’s okay, Grandma,” Nessa said. “Thank you for everything.”
Tony wrestled the car seat out of the car and deposited Daltrey’s little suitcase on the ground. They got back in the car and drove away.
“I missed you so much,” Nessa said. “Did you miss me?”
He nodded energetically.
“Are you hungry?” she said.
He shook his head and squirmed to get out of her arms. She put him down and he ran to all the outbuildings, touching each one. He stopped at the hops vines and pointed before coming back to her.
They went inside and Isabeau drove up half an hour later. The joyous reunion between Daltrey and Isabeau did Nessa’s heart good. Then Isabeau threw her arms around Nessa. She talked about her camping trip to Waconda Springs and said they should take Daltrey there before the end of the summer, because he would love it.
The three of them watched a Disney movie until Daltrey’s bedtime, and then Nessa tucked him in. “See you tomorrow, sweetie,” she said.
He signed “Good night.”
Downstairs in the living room, Nessa beckoned to Isabeau to join her out back.
“I don’t want to talk about this inside in case there’s another bug in there,” Nessa said. They sat on the deck chairs.
“So what did you find out?” Isabeau said.
“First tell me what happened with your dad’s best friend.”
“Well,” Isabeau said, “they ain’t best friends no more. Dad punched him in the nose.”
Nessa actually laughed.
“Yeah. My folks are pissed. They’re trying to talk me into pressing charges against him, but I don’t know.”
“You should consider it,” Nessa said.