When I got to the room the phone was ringing.
I picked up. “That was fast.”
“Your mom’s dealing with them,” Amy said. “What’s wrong?”
She knew. She always did.
I told her.
She said, “You’re not hurt.”
“The mirror’s fucked, but I’m fine.”
“Okay. First, thank you for being honest with me.”
“Of course.”
“You’re sure you can’t leave tonight?”
“I’m telling you. Even in daylight, this road is an accident waiting to happen.”
“How soon can you go?”
“Dawn.”
“Can you call the police?”
“I’ve been told they don’t show up.”
“How is that possible? You call and they just ignore you?”
“Honey,” I said. “You work in Oakland.”
She let out a nervous titter. “I’m a little upset that you weren’t wearing your vest.”
“I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I was mostly in the car, and there’s next to no one out on the streets. But you’re right.”
She didn’t answer.
“Amy? Did I lose you?”
“I’m here,” she said. “You don’t want to leave. Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“I told you I would and I will.”
“I’m asking what you want.”
“I could use more time. But I don’t want you to worry.”
“I’m already worried.” She sighed. “How much longer do you think you’ll need?”
“It’s hard to tell. I’ve only been here a few hours.”
“And people are already shooting at you. What if this maniac decides to come after you?”
“I don’t think that’s likely.”
“Based on what?”
“He had a clear shot at me as I was driving away,” I said. “He didn’t take it.”
“So what? He could change his mind.”
“He doesn’t have a reason to.”
“Did he have a reason the first time?”
“I was snooping around his property. He was scaring me away. Another person I spoke to told me he’s harmless.”
“Oh well, that’s extremely reassuring.”
I laughed. She started laughing, too.
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” she said.
“Me neither.”
“What is this place?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s super weird. The whole town’s like a stage set. This guy at the bar struck up a conversation with me and next thing I know he’s volunteering to be my tour guide. Would you do that for someone you’d just met?”
“I wouldn’t do it for someone I dearly loved. Does he want money?”
“Probably. I don’t imagine they get too many outsiders.”
“I’m sure they don’t, if they reach for a gun every time someone rings a doorbell.” She sighed again. “Okay. You can stay. With certain conditions. First, you cannot go near that guy.”
“No desire.”
“You have to wear your vest, too. That’s non-negotiable.”
“I will.”
“I want you to check in with me every hour.”
“That limits me pretty severely. I can only call from the room.”
“Then you have to tell me where you’re going and how long you’ll be out of contact.”
“I can do that. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And there’s one more condition. You owe me a massage when you get back.”
“As many as you want. It is beautiful here, I’ll give it that. I wish you were with me.”
“I’m sure you do,” she said. “With another target you’d be splitting the risk.”
“Amy—”
“Hey,” she said. “This is me coping with stress.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll order a vest in my size,” she said.
I laughed. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Good night.”
I pressed the hookswitch, fished out the napkin with Beau Bergstrom’s number, dialed.
“Yeeellow.”
“Beau, it’s Clay Gardner. We met earlier.”
“Hey hey. What’s the good word?”
“If you’re free tomorrow, I’ll take you up on that tour.”
“For you, sir, I am free as a bird. What’s your fancy?”
“You mentioned a hike.”
“There’s a beauty, runs up along the railroad tracks.”
“How long is it?”
“Eight miles, out and back.”
“About how long will that take?”
I’d asked because I needed to tell Amy when to expect my call. But Beau seemed to interpret the question as a sign of weakness. In a tone half needling, half encouraging, he said, “You’re a fit guy, you’ll be fine.”
“I just want to know how much water to bring.”
“Figure five hours, plus time for lunch. What do you say?”
“Sounds good.”
“It’s a date, then,” Beau said. “We should start before it gets too hot. Seven o’clock?”
“I’ll be ready.”
“And don’t worry about water or food or nothing, I’ll take care of that.”
“Thanks very much.”
“You, sir, are very welcome. See you in the morning.”
It was nine thirty p.m. I’d missed the window for kitchen service.
I unknotted the bag of snacks I’d bought at Fanny’s Market.
Chips, pretzels, mixed nuts, beef jerky.
PI health food.
I downed a couple of protein bars, typed up the day’s notes, and got ready for bed.
Lying in the dark with the curtains drawn, I listened to the wind howl and the shutters groan, rocks colliding in the surf, like the bones of a sinking ship, the screams of drowning men.
Chapter 10
Despite my exhaustion, I slept poorly, waking often to imaginary gunfire. Each time, I stumbled to the bay window, parted the curtain a few inches, and peered out at the deserted, moonlit plaza. By five a.m. sleep was a lost cause.
It was too early to call Amy. I put on sweats.
The hallway smelled of coffee, and when I went downstairs, I heard Jenelle puttering around the kitchen, country music playing softly.
“Hello?” she called.
“Morning.”
She emerged. “You’re up early. Did you sleep all right?”
“Fine, thanks.”
“Coffee?”
“Please.”
“Milk and sugar?”
“Please.”
She brought a mug. “Breakfast won’t be ready for a little while. If I’da known I would’ve had it waiting for you.”
“It’s not a problem. Do you have any duct tape? I need to fix something.”
“If it’s the towel rod, just shove it into the socket.”
“Not that.”
She looked at me curiously. “Gimme a minute.”
She disappeared through the saloon doors, returning with a roll of tape. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
“Will you need the room again tonight?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Checkout is noon. After that I’ll have to charge you for another day.”
“I’m meeting Beau. I think we’ll be back by about one. Can I let you know then?”
She nodded, and I thanked her and took the tape outside.
Fog smothered the plaza. Cormorants wheeled against a leaden sky.
I retrieved the mirror unit from the footwell and set to reattaching it.
The bell jangled. Jenelle Counts appeared on the porch. “You hit a deer or something?”