“
Yes. No. Not the way you probably mean. Maybe. He hits us and my mom. It
’
s awful.
”
“
If you
’
re being abused there are agencies that will help you, and there
’
s the police. They
’
ll stop him.
”
Penny shook her head.
“
I can
’
t do that. If they take him away, then how will my mother live? Or Wesley?
”
She shook her head again.
“
I can
’
t get rid of one bad thing and make another bad thing happen. I had to leave
—
and I have to figure out how to make Wesley safe now, too.
”
Alicia was silent for a while.
“
Well, then,
”
she eventually said,
“
what you want is to find out where you really belong. You know it isn
’
t here.
”
Penny had to strain to hear past the growing roar in her ears.
“
I
’
m sorry for what you thought Stephen was offering and what he really was, but that
’
s how it is. You have to pay more attention to real life.
”
A fine thing to say for a woman going off to live in the Dark Ages. Penny silently stared at her own fingers.
“
We
’
re going to Arizona,
”
Alicia said.
“
It
’
s an annual war
—
well, you know. Stephen isn
’
t joining us, in case that
’
s what you
’
re thinking. He
’
s too nervous about being in such an obvious place.
”
She sighed.
“
We
’
ve gone the last few years, so Yvonne would expect him there. Anyway, we have to get on the road. Why don
’
t you take the long weekend
—
all of it
—
to give this some thought? It
’
ll be quiet here, and maybe that
’
ll be good. You know, helpful.
”
And all Penny could do was nod, and then, because she couldn
’
t really agree, because the downward movement of the nod dumped her onto the hard surface of the nothing ahead, she heard herself say it again, even though it annoyed Alicia. Annoyed everybody, and she didn
’
t know why. It was an honest question and she needed an answer.
“
What am I supposed to do?
”
Alicia
’
s tone changed.
“
Anything,
”
she said sharply.
“
Anything except look dazed and made of stone. Do
something.
Grow up. Decide where you want to be down the road, then think of what you need to do to get there. What
do
you want, Penny? You only talk about what you don
’
t want.
”
She exhaled loudly, like somebody fresh out of patience.
“
I have to finish packing.
”
The voice that was always so controlled that Penny thought she was a serenity phony was now sharp-edged and mean. Alicia
’
s real self, finally out, but only for Penny. Only for the scapegoat.
“
If you decide to leave before we get back, don
’
t forget to feed the bird first and lock up. You can put the key under the back-door mat.
”
She turned and shook her head and put her hands out, palms up, conceding to a horrible but inescapable fate.
“
If it will help you find a place, or whatever you need, use my car. The key
’
s on the table there. Just be sure it
’
s back before I am. Gas tank at the level you find it, too, please.
”
Penny started to thank her, but she was gone, as they all would be soon, as Stephen already was.
And now Penny was supposed to do something. Whatever it was that would get her where she wanted to be. She stayed on the flowered sofa and wondered where that was and what she
’
d have to do. It felt like having her brain roll into a brick wall until it split open. But even so, it was less painful than thinking about what Stephen had done to her.
Twenty-Four
There weren
’
t many cars making the trek to the coast at this hour of a late February afternoon when fog dripped down the crevasses of the mountain, boding low visibility on the ocean side. It had been so beautiful inland, earlier. Hot, even.
Billie half wished for the bumper-to-bumper traffic of a sunny weekend day. It would be something to talk about, at least. The silence in the car was strained, and since Emma made no attempt to turn on her radio and provide alternative sound-cushioning, Billie didn
’
t suggest it, either.
Forget small talk. They
’
d exhausted the potentials of the foggy tendrils. They
’
d speculated on just how bad it
’
d be on the beaches, commented on the microclimates of Marin and how amazingly different one area could be from another, talked about the need to dress in layers, said how nice it was that at least it didn
’
t snow
—
except on such rare occasions they made headlines
—
although the torrential rains could be horrifying enough. Not to mention, they mentioned, the summer fires that would be the end result of all the rain-encouraged vegetation. And then, having explored the farthest limits of local weather-talk, they lapsed into uncomfortable silence.
Normal people would have said something to the effect of,
“
How
’
s it going?
”
But Emma wasn
’
t the norm.
Billie decided it was out of bounds to ask Emma what she was working on, how things were going for her. Emma set boundaries without saying a word.
The car smelled of stale cigarettes although Emma didn
’
t smoke. The front seat
’
s upholstery apparently had been used as an auxiliary ashtray and dump. And the backseat was no better. It looked clawed by something gone berserk and was strewn with bags, duffels, and empty Styrofoam cups.
The scenery dissolved and reshaped itself as they drove out Sir Francis Drake, beyond San Anselmo
’
s antique shops to Fairfax, a town clinging to as much of the sixties as it could, back farther in time to the central valley where the conveniences and abominations of civilization were less visible, houses nestled in clusters off-road and out of sight. Woodacre, San Geronimo, Forest Knolls. She and Cameron had looked, but hadn
’
t found anything there when they were house-hunting, and she liked the mix of old and neglected, and brand-new and stunning homes, the privacy and yet the closeness of houses running up the hills or nestled at their base. She liked horses in front yards, the tiny library and post offices and the pleasant oddness of pure unspoiled country, with a city still only minutes away. And a golf course straddling the highway.
She understood why Stephen Tassio would have felt safe there when he needed to disappear.
“
This might be where Stephen lives,
”
she said.
“
I found two messages on the Internet that mentioned the area, and one was from a woman named Alicia Malone
—
that
’
s her real name, what they call her
‘
mundane
’
name. But there was only an office number. No address.
”
Emma nodded.
“
Give me the number. If we don
’
t find Penny tonight, I
’
ll make a call. Guy owes me a favor. But who is she?
”
“
Stephen
’
s mother said she was the one who lured him into the group, so it seems too much to be a coincidence.
”
“
You think the girl
’
s with him still?
”
The girl.
She kept making her secondary. It was for the sake of Penny that they were on this chase, but it was Stephen, not Penny she felt close to. She knew his parents, the receptionist at his place of work, his crazed ex, and as little as each had provided, it was more than Penny
’
s people seemed to feel or know. Billie had a rough idea of his life, interests, what made him unique, while Penny remained a shadow figure.
She
’
d all but forgotten her, and not for the first time. Penny Redmond, the girl nobody knew. How lonely she had to be.
“
I can
’
t imagine where else she
’
d go.
”
Billie felt an ache as the adolescent took up residence in her brain.
“
Assuming we reach Stephen in time, Penny will either be with him, or he can probably tell us where she is. We can deliver her mother
’
s message and we
’
re out of there. Then it
’
s up to the girl to contact her mother or not.
”
There was an angry, hurt undertone to Emma
’
s words, as if she had a stake in which option Penny would take.
“
I hope she makes contact,
”
Billie said.
“
That mother
’
s falling apart.
”
Emma shrugged.
“
Either way, it won
’
t be our problem anymore.
”
Her voice had returned to its normal level of impatience as the conversation once again dragged to a halt. There were just so many trees and grasses one could study through the windshield.
“
Did you get the message about the woman who called?
”
Billie asked after an awkward pause.
“
Miriam, with the blood in her trash can?
”
Cocktail-party chatter without the cocktails. This was too hard.
“
It
’
s sad,
”
Emma said.
“
The woman is losing her mind piecemeal. She was once the smartest woman I knew.
”
She sighed heavily.
“
She was a rebel when I met her. Way ahead of her time liberating herself, if anybody still uses that term. In fact, speaking of time, if we have any on the way back, would you mind if I
—
well, it would be both of us, of course
—
detoured to her house? She lives in Mill Valley, on Mount Tam. If we take Panoramic Highway back instead of this road, she wouldn
’
t be more than a minute or so out of the way, and maybe I can calm her down.
”
Whatever minutes they spent detouring or soothing Miriam
’
s fears were minutes lost with Jesse, but this was as close to collegial as Emma had ever been.
“
No problem,
”
Billie said.
“
Funny what life does to you,
”
Emma murmured.
“
Or not funny at all.
”
They passed the small valley towns and headed toward the sea, through Samuel P. Taylor Park, a place Billie considered close to holy. Like stained-glass windows, the late-afternoon sun broke through the redwoods making green prism into gold, lime, emerald, and dark mossy shadow, landing on ground carpeted with rust-and-maroon redwood needles. This was the tapestry and geography of peace, a place of solace, serenity and insight
—
if only she could find time for contemplative solitude.
They were not necessarily following Yvonne
’
s dark hatchback. They had seen a car like it on Fourth Street when they left the office, but had not caught up with it, and then had lost it as it raced down Sir Francis Drake, and their hope that the police would stop the speeding car and ease everyone
’
s worries was not realized. Now, there were only occasional glimpses of the little wagon as it sped around the twists and turns of the roadbed. They had seemed on a logical course of action when they raced out of the office. Now, on this verdant country road, Billie felt as if she
’
d left the clear sense of urgency back at the office.
They reached Olema, the T-junction with Highway One, and Emma idled indecisively.
“
You think he went
—
she went
…
which direction?
”
Billie shook her head.
“
It seems irrational for him to return to the scene of his and Yvonne
’
s last time together. Or does it even register for him that way? Maybe it
’
s just his friend
’
s place to him, so I can
’
t tell. But I kept hearing how much he loved camping. Point Reyes, maybe? It
’
s so large, so many campgrounds, the odds would be against her finding him.
”
“
Which is to say, who the hell knows?
”
Emma shrugged and turned to the right, toward the National Seashore. They reached the visitors
’
center and went in to ask a few questions.
The last time Billie had been out here had been with Jesse. They
’
d stood directly on the infamous San Andreas Fault and she
’
d showed him the fencing that the 1906 earthquake had yanked in two, relocating the pieces several feet apart. Explained about the odd Point Reyes peninsula which geologically belonged in Monterey, but had moved north on its own and was continuing up toward Alaska. Of course, he didn
’
t understand. Nor did she. But she felt it was sufficiently amazing to bear repetition.