The street ended in a cul-de-sac, but a narrower road led away down the far side of the hill, and she had parked facing that for a quick exit. The night around her was clear, but a fog was creeping up from the scrubby canyon, making it look like a pale river. She could escape down in there if she needed to, though the idea of climbing down among that tangle of weeds and trees didn’t really appeal; she’d done enough of that, earlier in the night.
Down the hill, despite fingers of fog, light from a thin moon picked out faintly the shapes of the large old houses. All were dark except for a faint glow from behind one, maybe a low-watt security light. The time was two forty-five. In the rearview mirror she watched Maudie, ready to stop her if she struggled with her bonds again; she’d already slapped her once for doing that. Maudie kept glancing down at the street below as if imagining that someone in one of those houses would wake and come to rescue her. When a couple of dogs started barking, Pearl studied the yards, but it was too dark to see where they were or what they were barking at. Only when a brighter light came on from behind one of the houses did she reach to switch on the ignition.
But then she paused. Maybe it was nothing, maybe the barking dogs had awakened someone, maybe they’d shut up and the light would go out again. This was too good a shelter to leave, she didn’t want to move. Settling back, she thought about where she’d go once she had the bonds and ledger pages and with no loose ends left behind. No good to get involved with a casino anywhere, too easy for the cops to track her through the gambling industry. Unless she left the country, worked a casino in the Bahamas or maybe the West Indies. Behind her, Maudie had settled down, too, as if giving up her hopeful vigil. When the dogs barked again, Pearl thought shadows moved in the yard before the lighted house and she strained to see—but maybe the dogs were loose or tied out there, surely it was just the dogs, milling around.
It was maybe ten minutes later when lights blazed in the front windows and the front door opened, emitting a river of light. A man stepped out with a big dog on a leash. Was that the detective? Garza? With the light at his back she couldn’t be sure. His build was the same as the Latino: square shoulders, short-clipped hair that looked dark. But what would he be doing here? He’d gone off with that Ryan Flannery and the cursed tracking dog—tracking Benny. Was that the tracking dog? But Benny wouldn’t be up here, the dog couldn’t have tracked him here, the kid couldn’t climb all the way up here from the wreck, that whiny, limping kid. If he’d gone anywhere it would be downhill toward the village, if he could walk even that far. He’d be scared silly to climb up here alone, through the black woods.
The man turned, and the light caught his face. When she saw him clearly, again her hand slipped to the ignition, ready to ease the car away down the far side of the hill. It was Garza.
Could he have given up trailing Benny, and started tracking her car? But how could he even know Maudie was gone? When the detective and Flannery and her husband left to search for Benny, Maudie had been safe in the house. Or so they thought. And once she had gotten Maudie away, who was going to come to the door in the middle of the night and discover Maudie wasn’t there? Not Jared, she thought, smiling. He’d be long gone, headed up the coast somewhere, maybe had hit some bar until closing time, to establish an alibi. She and the Colletto boys had escaped into the greenbelt together, Kent turning away downhill, she and Jared swinging back toward Maudie’s house. Jared had slipped in through the studio while she waited among the trees in the dark yard, then had gone in later to get the kid. Now, watching Garza, she glanced again toward the escape road, but if she moved the car, even without lights he’d hear her. Or the dog would, and make a fuss that would bring the damned cop straight to her.
Maybe they’d be gone soon, maybe the dog had lost Benny’s scent somewhere and the cop was just nosing around among the houses up here. Maybe he thought that, from above the woods, he might hear Benny crying for help. She had six hours until the bank opened, she could wait him out until he left. After the bank, she’d decide what to do with Maudie. She couldn’t turn her loose to run to the cops; she’d have to dispose of her or, as much of a drag as it would be, she’d have to take Maudie with her, kill her somewhere far away, dump her where no one would find her.
MAUDIE, FROM THE moment Pearl parked at the top of the hill under the trees, had known where she was. Below, fog lay thick along the ravine, the black line of roofs softly silhouetted against it. They were just above the senior ladies’ house. Even in the dark she knew the old established neighborhood, knew it from when she was a child and it had seemed so very far from the village. And knew it from more recently when she’d brought Benny up here to spend some time with Lori while she visited with Cora Lee, getting to know the four ladies, wanting to make friends her own age, establish some connections. Now, with the house so close, there had to be some way to reach them, to tell them she needed help.
She looked longingly at the soft light that burned around the back, most likely from the kitchen, and imagined the four women in their robes, sharing late-night cocoa. For her, they were worlds away; they might never know she’d been there. If she cried out for help, Pearl would hit her again or would drive off down the hill again. Even if she tried to cry out, she doubted they’d hear her since the dogs had started barking. She yearned to be down there safe in their kitchen. The thought of escape, of safety, brought tears of frustration that, with her hands tied behind her, she couldn’t even wipe away. She didn’t want Pearl to see how weak she was.
Whenever Pearl looked away from the rearview mirror, Maudie worked at the knots that bound her hands, picking and pulling at the soft belt, bending her fingers awkwardly. Pearl hadn’t found the gun in her pocket. Hadn’t felt it, hadn’t even looked. Apparently she didn’t think Maudie would have a gun or know how to use it. There were advantages in looking soft and helpless. And in not sharing all your personal information, even with your daughter-in-law. It hadn’t been any of Pearl’s business that she and Allen, on their weekend trips, had often included several hours at a county pistol range. They had kept several guns locked away, not only from Benny, but from any visitor who might enjoy snooping.
When one of the knots gave, a shock of excitement made her heart pound. It was almost loose. She tried to keep her upper body still as her cramped fingers fought to undo it. She was startled when, below at the seniors’ house, lights suddenly blazed on in the front windows, the front door opened, and Detective Garza emerged with Ryan’s tracking dog. She couldn’t believe he was there, not a hundred yards from her.
Had they found Benny? Had they brought him here? Was he all right? She jerked her hand loose from the last knot, tearing her skin in a long burn. Then she remained still again, not daring to divert Pearl’s attention from the scene that held them both riveted. And now with help so near, she was jolted to action. Slowly, watching Pearl, she reached toward her coat pocket.
HOLDING ROCK ON a short lead, moving along the porch away from the lighted doorway, Dallas stood against the wall of the house surveying the dark neighborhood. Beside him Rock was tense, predatory, his attention fixed on the wooded hill above. Light from the thin moon faintly defined the rising street, the big square houses and overgrown trees. Dallas couldn’t see into the woods at the top of the hill, but the big dog was alerting him in every way, straining to move out, wanting to have a look. Slowly Dallas edged toward the hill, keeping Rock close, knowing better than to approach the car alone.