She tilted her head back, breathing deeply to control her nausea.
“Remind me how long you were a coroner,” she said.
“Thirteen years.”
“Ever seen anything like this?”
“No.”
“Well,” she said. “First time for everything.”
Al rendered his verdict: No way could we open the road before dark.
“You can stay with me tonight,” he said. “We’ll come back at dawn. Either of you know how to work a chain saw?”
I said, “I’ve cleared brush.”
“Mm. We’ll get it done. Now let’s see to whatever hurt the two of you have.”
Maggie Penrose answered her door and started. The three of us made a motley sight — dirty and bloody and mismatched.
I said, “I need to borrow your phone.”
Al said, “And she needs to be looked at.”
“Nice to meet you, Doc,” Regina said. “My ribs are broken.”
Maggie said, “Come in.”
She wasn’t alone. Leonie and Jason Clancy sat on the living room sofa.
The tribunal. Best guess, the topic was Nick Moore and damage control.
Regina said, “How’s everyone’s day going?”
“Please,” Maggie said, showing her toward the exam room.
I said to Al, “Fill them in?”
“Yes, sir.”
I hobbled to the office.
Amy said, “I was starting to worry.”
In the background was the benign tumult of an ordinary evening at the Edison household. Running water, Charlotte narrating loudly, Myles babbling along to Cocomelon.
“I’m okay,” I said. “Can you find some privacy?”
“One second... Mom? Take over, please?”
I heard her mother’s voice say, “Is everything all right?”
“Absolutely fine, just gimme a sec.”
A door shut. The background noise cut out.
“What’s going on,” she said.
By the time I finished she was crying.
She said, “I don’t know if I can take this anymore.”
“I’m sorry, Amy.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Is Regina okay?”
“Probably broken ribs. The doctor’s checking her out.”
“I can’t believe this is happening again.”
Again.
“I’ll be safe till the morning,” I said. “I’ll leave once the road’s clear and call as soon as I get service.”
“We’re not done talking about this.”
“I know. Is there anything else you want me to do, right now?”
“Just be careful. If you really can.”
“I can. I will.”
“Fine,” she said and hung up.
I dropped the phone in its cradle. My head ached, my knee ached, my heart pumped broken glass.
The mood in the living room had changed.
Maggie and Jason perched on the sofa like guilty schoolkids. Al Bock stood at attention. Regina had a bandage over her eye and was sitting at the bottom of the spiral staircase, an ice pack pressed to her side.
Leonie paced by the ocean-view windows, buzzing with feral energy.
“What the hell are we supposed to do now?” she said.
Spiky clarity in her voice. I hadn’t heard it before.
She was sober.
“Those fuckers,” she said, pointing to nowhere, “took care of everything.”
“Times change,” Regina said.
Maggie said, “Just so you know, we didn’t create this situation. Kurt did.”
“You accepted it,” I said. “You kept it going.”
“For Shasta,” Leonie shouted.
“Grow up,” Regina yelled, twice as loud.
Leonie froze, startled.
Out over the water, gulls circled and screamed.
I said, “Where’s the manuscript?”
Leonie crossed her arms and gave me her back.
“Jason?” I said.
“Uh.” He glanced at his wife’s impassive form. “Our place.”
“I’ll take it, please.”
He nodded. Heaving up from the couch, he started for the door.
“Lee,” he said. “You coming?”
Leonie didn’t answer.
I said, “She’s eighteen soon. It’ll be out of your hands.”
Leonie snorted. “It’s never been in my hands.”
In the car, Regina said, “What did you tell Amy?”
“The truth.”
“Interesting choice.”
We waited in the Clancys’ driveway for Jason to carry out a cardboard box marked Hay & Dew Vineyards.
He set it gingerly in the Jeep’s cargo hold. I opened the flaps on a deep stack of yellowed paper. The cover page was scrawled in pencil.
Feeling the presence of another person I looked toward the house.
Shasta was watching from an upstairs window.
She waved.
I waved back. So did Regina.
Jason frowned. He shook his head at Shasta, as if to shoo her away. But she stayed put, arms folded resolutely over her chest, just like her mother.
Dinner Chez Bock was venison stew, cooked up with canned beans and homegrown vegetables. Al hovered by the stove, tending the pot and slipping meat scraps to King Kong. Regina took fresh clothes and went to use the outdoor shower. I sat at the table with the manuscript.
A yelp from outside: “Fahhaaack that’s cold.”
Bock smiled to himself.
As I turned pages, I noticed a significant difference from the PDF Eli Ruíz had sent me. The electronic version consisted of around nineteen hundred sheets. The paper original was far longer. Twice as long, in fact.
Whoever had made the scan had copied the fronts.
And skipped the backs.
One cheer for the UC Merced Work Study program.
Regina stumbled inside, hair wet, a bundle of dirty clothes under one arm. “That sucked.”
“Improves circulation,” Bock said.
“Fuck circulation.”
He chuckled. “Stew still needs some time,” he said to me, “if you want to give it a go.”
I replaced the manuscript in the box and took clothes from my bag.
Regina padded to the kitchenette. Hooking a strand of hair over her ear, she leaned in for a sniff. “Tell me that’s dairy-free.”
The next morning Al was gone before we were awake. He’d taken King Kong and left a note instructing us to meet him at the crash site.
We loaded the Jeep and drove out.
Pink light streaked the hills like an infection. The warming earth steamed.
As we drew close I heard saws buzzing.
The tow truck rested on the shoulder, light bar flashing. Behind it tilted the Range Rover. The fatal branch was sawn flush with the windshield. Condensation blurred the side windows; a fly tornado filled the interior.
King Kong chased squirrels through the trees.
Al had made good progress on the fallen cedar, opening a three-foot gap.
It helped that he’d brought help.
Regina said, “Are you fucking kidding me.”
A sweat-soaked DJ Pelman stood atop the trunk, wielding a giant Stihl.
He saw us and killed the motor.
Al did the same. He tugged out his earplugs and approached.
Regina and I both got out.
She took her gun purse and walked off in the other direction without a word.
He shook my hand, watched her go. “Morning.”
“Morning. You guys work fast.”