XO (29 page)

The Buick waited for a light, signaling left.

A block away the deputy, trying to be clever, slowed and turned left, apparently hoping to pick up the Buick after Edwin turned.

She nearly laughed to see Edwin floor the accelerator and speed right into a largely residential neighborhood. He’d eluded the deputy completely.

It was tough that didn’t work out, but now it’s plain to see

When it comes to things that matter, all I really need is me.

Stepping back inside, she opened her purse and slipped on leather gloves, then unfixed the twist ties securing the eight-inch filleting knife to the cardboard backing. She wrapped the blade in a tissue and slipped it into the inner pocket of her denim jacket.

And then she double—no, triple—checked the other thing she’d brought with her.

You still got that present I got you a coupla years ago?

I have all your presents, Daddy….

Kayleigh was now thinking of the song Edwin Sharp had played on the jukebox at the Cowboy Saloon yesterday. “Me, I’m Not a Cowgirl.”

I haven’t got a cowgirl hat to shield me from the sun.

My boots they have high heels. I don’t own a single gun.

For Kayleigh Towne that last sentence was not exactly true.

The present her father had given her was a Colt revolver. He’d bought it for her for protection when she was in her teens. Suellyn was away at college, their mother dead and he was spending insane amounts of time on the road, trying futilely to salvage his career.

She’d fired it a few times but hadn’t liked the recoil or the noise, even with the earmuffs, and she’d thought: What a joke.

The idea of taking a human life was impossible for her to imagine.

And yet two years ago she recalled spotting a coyote, twitchy and probably rabid, in her garden behind the house, hissing and baring yellow teeth.

Kayleigh had matter-of-factly blown the ragged thing away with a single shot to the head.

That’s all Edwin Sharp was to her now.

Not human. A mad coyote.

She tore up and flushed the packaging materials for the knife and the receipt down the toilet in the staff bathroom.

Determined, yes. But nervous as hell.

And where is the fucker? Did he leave?

No, he wouldn’t, of course. Because Kayleigh, the center of his universe, had called him a half hour ago—from a pay phone at the hospital where Sheri had been examined and released. She’d asked to meet him here. The stuffed redwood tree that Edwin and Mary-Gordon had bought for her at the museum had sported a label, on which Edwin had written a phone number. And the words, “Call me.”

She’d nearly thrown it out yesterday but had decided not to—because this plan had begun brewing in her mind the moment she saw his number.

Standing at the grimy window in the service door to the dock, she now wiped her hands on her jeans. Then, finally, Edwin Sharp appeared, walking in that eerie gait of his, not a care in the world. As if the murders and kidnappings were nothing to him.

He made a beeline for the auditorium, carrying his camera with him. He paused and began to take some pictures. If he snapped one of her she’d have to steal his camera and get rid of it.

Remember that.

Kayleigh took a deep breath. Through the thick denim of her jacket, she felt the knife in her inner pocket. Against her belly, the gun.

Not you, not him, not her, not them. In the end we’re all alone

Whatever’s needing to get done, I can do it on my own.

That’s all I need, just me.

FROM THE WINDOW,
she could see the flash from his camera as he took pictures of his shrine. Coming to Fresno, she realized, would be a pilgrimage to Edwin Sharp.

More sweat spreading on hands and forehead, heart pounding in vivace tempo.

Steady girl, you can do this. Think of everybody at risk.

Think of Mary-Gordon, think of Sheri.

He’s a rabid coyote. That’s all he is.

She paused. No, don’t do it. Get the hell out of here! Before you fuck up your life forever.

But Kayleigh Towne decided:

I can do this, I can do this. For my sister, for Mary-Gordon, for anyone else who’d be at risk.

For me.

Your shadow …

She stepped out onto the loading dock and looked toward Edwin. He turned, that skewed smile contorting his face. She gave a cautious nod and looked down at the asphalt, crumbling and cracked and sprouting dry weeds. Another brief nod. As if shy, as if uncertain.

As if innocent.

“Well, lookit this.” He glanced behind her and around. No Darthur Morgan. “You’re alone?”

“Yeah. Only me.”

“Where’s Darthur?”

“Up the street. I gave him the slip.”

He said, “Good.” He looked up at the theater. “You know, I wish that concert of yours’d been recorded…. Thirteen years old and you had the
whole house in your hand. Nobody cared about the other students. It was just you. Only you, Kayleigh.”

The show had been written up in one of the tiny local papers. He must’ve read about it there.

Edwin followed her inside.

“We’re thinking of filming a concert here.”

“A video. Cool! Excellent. When?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Like re-creating your first concert? That’d be so neat. You’ll have to do ‘Walking After Midnight.’ Like you opened with back then.”

Jesus. He knew that too?

Edwin studied her again. “Wow, you’re looking spec-tacular today. Your hair … it’s so beautiful. After your voice, your hair’s probably my favorite part about you.”

Kayleigh struggled to remain placid as she recalled his request to send him a lock of her hair. From her pillow would have been best.
Oh, Lord …

“I don’t have much time,” she said.

“I know. They’re always watching you.”

They?

He put his hands on his hips and smiled. His jeans were tight. She thought about the incident outside her house, tapping out the music, or doing something else? He peered down at her adoringly from under those overhanging brows.

Kayleigh Towne wondered if she was going to be sick.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered. “Hearing your voice on the phone? It just made my whole day. My whole year! I was sitting at Earl and Marge’s having dinner and feeling kind of bad. Then to hear you. After all these months, finally hearing you.”

“That’s a good diner.”

“The pies looked nice. I like cherry pie, if there’s milk with it. But I cut all that out.” He patted his belly. “Staying trim, you know. Mr. Today. That’s such a great song. I hope it becomes an anthem for women. Don’t settle for abuse, don’t settle for less than you deserve. You know what I mean?”

Of course she did. She’d written the song. It was odd, though, how many fans didn’t get the meaning, as obvious as it was.

“Look at that. An old percolator.” He nodded toward an ancient coffeemaker. “That’s what my mother’d use.”

Her eyes stayed on the canister as she said, “Listen, Edwin, what I wanted to talk to you about. I was pretty upset you picked up my sister and niece.” She’d decided she couldn’t make it sound like he was her new best friend. He’d be suspicious if she was too nice. She looked at him now sternly.

“Oh, that. Sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I was worried.”

“Worried?”

“About Ritchie.”

“Who’s that?”

“Ritchie Hampton, the guy your father was going to send to pick up Suellyn and Mary-Gordon. You don’t know about his record?”

Record? What was he talking about? “Well … no.”

“Okay, what happened was, I was in a café. Your father and Sheri happened to be there—”

“Happened?” Kayleigh asked suspiciously.

The smile seemed to deepen slightly. “Okay, I’ll admit. I followed them there. I thought they were going to meet you for breakfast. It’s been hard to park out in front of your house. I keep getting hassled by the deputies.”

Well,
yeah.
He was actually complaining, as if he honestly didn’t get it that somebody might object to his spying? Still, her role required her to say nothing, but just nod sympathetically.

Edwin examined the coffee percolator. Lifted the lid, with a glass dome in the center, and replaced it. “I heard Bishop call Ritchie and ask him to pick up Suellyn and Mary-Gordon. I know your father doesn’t drive anymore, but Sheri could’ve driven him to pick them up. Why couldn’t her grandfather come to pick up that little girl?”

Kayleigh’s very thought at the time. Bishop, though, had been too busy with Congressman Davis.

“But anyway, he asked Ritchie. You know, Ritchie’s had three speeding tickets and one reckless in the last year. License’s been suspended a couple of times. And even your father doesn’t know he was pulled over at a DUI roadblock. He was let go but he’d been drinking.”

Kayleigh stared. How on earth does he know these things?

“Your father was going to have your sister and that precious little
niece of yours in the hands of a man who drives that badly? I’m sorry. I couldn’t let that go by. And if I’d come to you or to him and said anything, you’d’ve called the cops, right? And ignored me. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to the people most important to you in the world. I even used my middle name, in case the lawyers or your father had told them to look out for somebody named Edwin.”

Lawyers or father. But not me. He was truly delusional.

“You know, you really come on too strong. Don’t you see that?”

“I guess I get a little carried away.” Was his smile genuine or a leer? She couldn’t tell. Despite the dry heat, Kayleigh Towne shivered. He added, “You’ll feel more comfortable when you get to know me.” Another look at her hair. “I like you alone.”

“What?”

“I mean, instead of at the Cowboy Saloon. All those other people around. Wasn’t natural, you know.”

No, she didn’t know.

“Well,” Kayleigh said uncertainly.

He grew somber. “I’m really sorry about Bobby. I know you guys were close. You went out, right?”

What an actor he was! Sorry? You killed him!

And then she reflected, Wait, how does he know Bobby and I were close?

“Yeah, thanks. He was a good friend.”

“Friend. Yeah.”

“It’s pretty tough.”

“Oh, it’s gotta be.” His face screwed up like a funeral director’s. “I feel so bad for you.”

“And all his other friends and family,” Kayleigh reminded, trying to keep an edge from her voice.

“Sure. Do the police have any leads?”

You prick.

Pull out the gun and blow the motherfucker away. Put the knife in his hand later.

But, no. Be smart.

“I don’t think so.”

“You want to get that iced tea?” he asked. “Your fave?”

She said, “I really can’t. I better get back.”

“I love you, Kayleigh.” He said this casually as if he were saying the earth is round, or the dollar is U.S. currency.

“Well—”

“It’s okay. I know the situation. I’m amazed they let you out on the town by yourself.”

“They?”

“You know who I mean. Everybody … from the song.
Everyone
wants a piece of your soul.” He was exhaling hard, shaking his head, “I worry about you so much.”

Insane. Pathetic and completely insane.

Now! If you wait any longer you won’t be able to do it.

“Hey, let me give you something.”

“You have something for me?” he asked, surprised.

She stepped forward, smiling, convinced that as she got close she’d be overwhelmed by a repulsive smell but all she could detect was faint deodorant or aftershave. Was it what her father used? Okay.
That’s
weird.

Kayleigh reached into her jacket and, gripping the knife blade, wrapped in tissue, she slipped the handle into his palm quickly. He instinctively closed his fingers around it. She backed up fast.

“What’s this, a pen?” he asked. Maybe thinking it was something for him to write her letters with.

Then he realized what it was.

Edwin’s smile faded. And he looked up to see the girl of his dreams holding a large revolver pointed at his chest. She pulled the hammer back. It seated with a loud click.