Hollis said, “Fritz—”
I cut in, hoping to head off another verbal slugfest. “I understand your point, Fritz, but there’s more to their decision than you may be aware,” I said. “The first thing your parents did when this business came up was to consult a criminal attorney. He strongly advised them not to pay for the same reasons they’ve already given you. You have to draw the line somewhere and this is as good a place as any. The minute they pay, all they’ve done is open up a can of worms.”
“Well, I disagree and I should have a say in this, don’t you think?”
“Only if you have twenty-five thousand dollars to spare,” Hollis interjected.
“Great. Put it all on me. I’ve already got my nuts in a vise, so pile it on.”
“Darling, since you don’t respect our point of view, what do you suggest?”
“Quit farting around. Give the guy what he wants and tell him that’s the end of it. Say you won’t pay another cent and he can like it or lump it. I don’t understand why the idea is so hard to grasp.”
Lauren leaned forward. “Do you know how much we’ve already shelled out for your legal bills? Half a million dollars. We had to sell the house to come up with it.”
“You never bitched about the money before.”
“Fine. You pay if you think it’s such a good idea,” she said.
“How am I supposed to come up with money like that? News flash. I’m unemployed and I’m an ex-con, so no one’s going to hire me no matter what. Even if I had a job, I couldn’t earn dough like that in a million years.”
Hollis said, “We don’t feel it’s our responsibility. You put us in this position. Yet again, I might add.”
“Fuck you.”
Hollis closed his eyes, working to control his temper. “You know, son, it’s this attitude that got you in trouble in the first place. You act without any thought to the consequences.”
“You’ve told me that before, Dad! And what am I supposed to say? The past is the past. It’s over and done. I can’t change anything.”
Lauren said, “Let’s deal with the here and now.”
“There isn’t any here and now. I’m out,” Fritz snapped.
He jumped up and headed for his room, his face suffused with fury. He turned back once, saying, “Do anything you want, but I’ll hang myself before I go back to prison, so factor that into the equation.” He banged into his room and that was the end of that.
The door slamming was the perfect punctuation mark to a scene that already felt overplayed. One thing about uproar: it’s useful in diverting attention from issues you’re hoping to avoid.
Hollis caught my eye. “You can see what we’re dealing with,” he said, sounding strangely satisfied.
9
I left the McCabes and drove home. When I turned onto my street, I realized one of my neighbors was having a party and parking was more problematic than usual. In the middle of the block, I saw a house lighted up and cars lining the driveway, which was only long enough to hold three. Every other space along the curb was filled. I had to circle the block twice and finally had no choice but to wedge my Honda into a semi-legal spot near the corner of Albanil and Cabana Boulevard. As I locked the car, I spotted a sole pedestrian: a man in a black raincoat who turned his face away from me as he crossed the street up ahead. He had his hands jammed in his pockets and the tap-tap of his heels broke the quiet of the night air. Something about his posture and the shape of his head sparked an image of Ned Lowe. I slowed my pace and stared into the shadows, my brain momentarily disconnected from my body. I’d seen Ned on very few occasions—maybe three or four times—which meant my ability to recognize him in the dark was far from certain. Given the weak pool of light cast by the street lamp, the likeness might have been an optical illusion, but the attempted break-in at the office had already generated uneasiness. My mouth filled with saliva like one of Pavlov’s dogs conditioned by a bell and I was yanked into the past as though by a shepherd’s crook.
I could feel his weight, the pressure of his knee in the middle of my back. Once again, I was facedown on my office carpeting. I couldn’t turn. I couldn’t move. I had no way to buck his hold. I felt his hand over my mouth, his fingers pinching my nose shut. I was consumed with the need for oxygen, my lungs aflame. I was aware of the scent of his aftershave—musk and patchouli, suggestive of a fortune-teller’s waiting room. The scratchy nap of his unshaven cheek, the underlying oil on his skin. I could remember the sound of his breathing as he worked to prevent mine. He was a middle-aged man who looked tired and I remember equating this with ineffectiveness. Big mistake on my part in light of how closely he’d taken me to the brink of death.
I shook my head. The panic faded as rapidly as it had enveloped me and my intellect reasserted control. If Ned was back, why would he risk appearing in my neighborhood unless he was on a scouting mission? And what the hell did he want?
I scurried home. With the dark at my back, I was propelled by fear. As I opened the gate, I saw the glow from the downstairs bathroom light I’d left on for myself, but the coziness wouldn’t afford much comfort if Ned had been there, trying to pick his way in. I rounded the corner of the studio. Henry’s porch light was off and the backyard was thick with shadows. I stood still while my eyes adjusted to the dark. In the wash of ambient light from the street lamps out front, I could make out the small gray mountain of Pearl’s pup tent in the middle of the dirt. Ed, the cat, picked his way daintily across the yard like a wraith and disappeared into the bushes. Henry was going to have to find a way to keep that little guy inside. Pearl and Lucky were sitting in the Adirondack chairs, but all I could see of the pair were ghostly shapes and the tips of their cigarettes like red dots.
“Hey, Lucky. Did you get your dog?”
“Did, but Henry said we ought to take him to the vet in case he has worms. His shots ain’t up to date anyway, so the doc said he’d keep him overnight.”
“Well, I’m glad you got him back.”
“Me, too; man’s best friend and all.”
Idly, Pearl said, “Speaking of which, you just missed your friend.”
“What friend?”
“Some guy was here looking for you. Couldn’t have been more than five minutes ago. I’m surprised you didn’t bump into him.”
“I think I saw him and he’s not a friend. He kills women.”
She laughed, but when she caught my tone, her grin faded. “He’s the asshole who killed those young girls?”
“Ned Lowe,” I said.
“What’s he want with you?”
“He’s hoping to add me to the list.”
“Well, sorry, babe. That’s for shit. I had no idea. He seemed like a regular dude to me. Not your type, but what do I know? How about you, Lucky? He seem threatening to you?”
“Seemed sneaky. Might’ve been dark, but I could tell he wasn’t a regular sort.”
Pearl said, “Really? How’d you come up with that?”