He had her make sure the windows and doors were locked. She checked and confirmed that everything was secure.
Sealed in, nice and tight. She felt a burst of anger that Daniel Pell had them trapped once again, stuck in this little box of a cabin.
“I’m going stir crazy,” Rebecca announced. “I’ve got to get outside.”
“Oh, I don’t think you should.” Linda looked up. Sam noticed that the tattered Bible had many fingerprints on the page it was open to. She wondered what particular passages had given her so much comfort. She wished she could turn to something so simple for peace of mind.
Rebecca shrugged. “I’m just going out there a little ways.” She gestured toward Point Lobos State Park.
“Really, I don’t think you should.” Linda’s voice was brittle.
“I’ll be careful. I’ll wear my galoshes and look both ways.” She was trying to make a joke but it fell flat.
“It’s stupid but do what you want.”
Rebecca said, “Look, I’m sorry about last night. I drank too much.”
“Fine,” Linda said distractedly and continued to read her Bible.
Sam said, “You’ll get wet.”
“I’ll go to one of the shelters. I want to do some drawing.” Rebecca pulled on her leather jacket, unlatched the back door and, picking up her sketchpad and box of pencils, stepped outside. Sam saw her looking back and could easily read the regret in the woman’s face for her vicious words last night.
“Lock it after me.”
Sam went to the door and put the chain on, double locked it. She watched the woman walking down the path, wishing she hadn’t gone.
But for an entirely different reason than her safety.
She was now alone with Linda.
No more excuses.
Yes or no? Sam continued the internal debate that had begun several days ago, prompted by Kathryn Dance’s invitation to come to Monterey and help them.
Come back, Rebecca, she thought.
No, stay away.
“I don’t think she should’ve done that,” Linda muttered.
“Should we tell the guards?”
“What good would it do? She’s a big girl.” A grimace. “She’ll tell you so herself.”
Sam said, “Those things that happened to her, with her father. That’s so terrible. I had no idea.”
Linda continued to read. Then she looked up. “They want to kill him, you know.”
“What?”
“They’re not going to give Daniel a chance.”
Sam didn’t respond. She was still hoping Rebecca would return, hoping she wouldn’t.
With an edge to her voice Linda said, “He can be saved. He’s not hopeless. But they want to gun him down on sight. Be rid of him.”
Of course they do, Sam thought. As to the question of his redemption, that was unanswerable in her mind.
“That Rebecca…Just like I remember her.” Linda grunted.
Sam said, “What’re you reading?”
Linda asked, “Would you know if I told you the chapter and verse?”
“No.”
“So.” Linda started to read but then she looked up from the holy book again. “She was wrong. What Rebecca said. It wasn’t a nest of self-deception, or whatever she thinks.”
Sam was silent.
Okay, she told herself. Go ahead. Now’s the time.
“I know she was wrong about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
Sam exhaled long. “I wasn’t a mouse all the time.”
“Oh, that. Don’t take it seriously. I never said you were.”
“I stood up to him once. I told him no.” She gave a laugh. “Ought to get a T-shirt printed up: ‘I told Daniel Pell no.’”
Linda’s lips pressed together. The attempt at humor fell leaden between them.
Walking to the TV, Sam shut it off. Sat down in an armchair, leaning forward. Linda’s voice was wary as she said, “This is going somewhere. I can tell. But I’m not in the mood to get beat up again.”
“It’s about beating me up, not you.”
“What?”
A few deep breaths. “About the time I said no to Daniel.”
“Sam—”
“Do you know why I came down here?”
A grimace. “To help capture the evil escapee. To save lives. You felt guilty. You wanted a nice drive in the country. I don’t have any idea, Sam. Whydid you come?”
“I came because Kathryn said you’d be here, and I wanted to see you.”
“You’ve had eight years. Why now?”
“I thought about tracking you down before. I almost did once. But I couldn’t. I needed an excuse, some motivation.”
“You needed Daniel to escape from prison for motivation? What’s this all about?” Linda set the Bible down, open. Samantha kept staring at the pencil notes in the margins. They were dense as bees clustered in a hive.
“You remember that time you were in the hospital?”
“Of course.” In a soft voice. The woman was gazing steadily at Sam. Wary.
The spring before the Croyton murders Pell had told Sam he was serious about retreating to the wilderness. But he wanted to increase the size of the Family first.
“I want a son,” Pell had announced with all the bluntness of a medieval king bent on heirs. A month later Linda was pregnant.
And a month after that she’d miscarried. Their absence of insurance relegated them to a line at a lower-tier hospital in the barrio, frequented by pickers and illegals. The resulting infection led to a hysterectomy. Linda was devastated; she’d always wanted children. She’d told Sam often that she was meant to be a mother, and, aware of how badly her parents had raised her, she knew how to excel at the
role.
“Why are you bringing this up now?”
Sam picked up a cup filled with tepid tea. “Because it wasn’t supposed to be you who got pregnant. It was supposed to be me.”
“You?”
Sam nodded. “He came to me first.”
“He did?”
Tears stung Sam’s eyes. “I just couldn’t go through with it. Icouldn’t have his baby. If I did he’d have control over me for the rest of my life.” No point in holding back, Sam reflected. She gazed at the table and said, “So I lied. I said you weren’t sure you wanted to stay in the Family. Ever since Rebecca joined, you were thinking about leaving.”