Lisl stared at him in amazement.
"You sounded just like a doctor. Where did you learn all that?"
He laughed as he led her back to the warmth of the car.
"The same place doctors learn it: a medical textbook. I went to the library and looked up the major complications of a broken hip."
"But why?"
"To get him out of the house, of course."
He helped her into the passenger seat and closed the car door. But instead of getting in the driver side, he headed back to the gas station.
What's he up to? she wondered. He'd been so secretive about his plans for tonight.
A moment later he emerged carrying a cardboard box. He placed it in the space behind the seats, then got behind the wheel.
"What did you buy?" Lisl asked.
"Motor oil."
"Does that have anything to do with Brian?"
"It sure does."
"Can I ask what?"
His smile was enigmatic.
"All in good time, my dear. All in good time."
"You sound like the Wicked Witch of the West."
Rafe let out a high-pitched cackle as the Maserati roared to life.
As they entered the Rolling Oaks development Lisl saw Brian speeding out.
"There he goes. The good Dr. Callahan on a mission of mercy," Rafe said.
"Don't knock that."
"He's covering orthopedic call for the emergency room tonight. He has to go or he'll be suspended from the medical center."
"How do you know?"
"I checked. All it took was a telephone call. And besides, he figures on picking up a couple of grand for pinning some old lady's broken hip, so let's not award him a halo yet."
Rafe shut off his headlights before he reached Brian's house. They cruised to a stop just past the entrance to his driveway.
Lisl felt cold. Her stomach fluttered.
"You're not planning something illegal, are you?"
"You mean like breaking and entering? No. But I suppose it could be considered malicious mischief."
"Oh, great!"
"Come on. This is for you, not me."
"A few hours sleep would do more for me."
Rafe got out of the car and lifted the box of motor oil from behind the seats.
"Come on now. And be quiet. We don't want to wake the neighbors."
As he eased his door shut, Lisl got out and joined him on the driveway. The sky was winter-clear, full of glittering stars in the west but growing pale in the east. She could see Rafe twisting the cap off a half-gallon white plastic container of motor oil. He broke the foil seal and handed it to her.
"Start pouring."
"Where?"
"On the driveway, of course. Start at the bottom and work your way up. A good thick coat."
"But—?"
"Trust me. This will be good."
Lisl looked around. She felt exposed and vulnerable out here in the growing predawn light, but she knew Rafe would never leave before he'd accomplished what he'd come here for, so she began pouring.
The oil glugged from the container and splashed on the asphalt but soon she got the hang of pouring it in an even stream, back and forth, slowly backing up as she poured, container after container, letting the viscous golden liquid ooze down the slight decline of the driveway to merge like warm honey into a slick, uniform coat.
"Right up to the garage door there," Rafe said, handing her the last half gallon. "We're not going to give this sucker one little bit of traction."
Lisl complied, then handed him the empty.
"Okay. What now?"
"Now we sit and wait." He glanced at his watch. "Shouldn't be long now."
They returned to the car and Rafe drove it half a block to a corner where he parked at the curb. Almost dawn now. Lisl had a sharp, clear, unobstructed view of Brain's garage and driveway.
They waited. Rafe kept the car idling with the heater on. It was warm. Too warm. Lisl began to feel drowsy. She was ready to doze off when a black sports car roared past them.
Rafe let out a low whistle.
"Ooh, he's ticked. I wonder why? A wild goose chase to the hospital, maybe? Looking foolish in front of the emergency room staff, perhaps? But that's no excuse. A doctor should know better than to hot-rod like that through a residential neighborhood."
Brian's car made a sharp, tire-squealing turn into his driveway—
—and kept on going.
It swerved as its brakes locked but found no purchase on the oil-slick asphalt, plowing through the garage door and coming to rest at a crazy angle amid its splintered remnants.
Lisl gasped in shock and stared, fighting an urge to get out of the car and run to the site of the accident.
"Ohmigod, is he hurt?" Lisl cried.
"No such luck," Rafe said. "Watch."
The door to Brian's car opened and Lisl watched his white-coated figure stagger out. He was rubbing his head and he looked dazed, but he didn't seem seriously hurt.
She felt a smile slowly work its way onto her lips.
Serves you right, you bastard.
As he moved away from his car to survey the damage, he stepped onto the oiled asphalt. Suddenly his arms began windmilling as his feet did a spastic soft-shoe routine. He went down flat on his back with his legs straight up in the air.
Lisl burst out laughing. She couldn't help it. She'd never seen Brian look so ridiculous. She loved it.
With her hand clapped over her mouth, she watched him roll over and work his way to his hands and knees. The back of his white coat was now black and he had motor oil in his blow-dried hair. He was halfway to his feet when his legs slipped out from under him again and he went down on his face.
Lisl was laughing so hard now she could barely breathe. She beat a fist against Rafe's shoulder.
"Get me out of here!" she gasped. "Before I die laughing!"
Rafe was smiling as he shifted the car into gear.
"Not so scary now, is he?" he said.
Lisl shook her head. She couldn't answer because she was still laughing. Brian Callahan would never be able to intimidate her again.
A question leapt to her mind.
"Why me, Rafe? Why are you doing all this for me?"
"Because I love you," he said, smiling brightly. "And this is only the beginning."
THE BOY at fifteen years
July 21,1984
Carol caught him at the front door.
"Aren't you even going to say good-bye?" she said.
During the past two years Jimmy had sprouted to the point where he was now taller than Carol. Slim, handsome, he looked down at her the way a cat might glance at a plate of food it had no taste for.
"Why? We'll never see each other again."
Jimmy had somehow worked a change in his birth records back in Arkansas to show that he was now eighteen. He'd hired a shyster from Austin who'd obtained a court order that had forced her to turn most of the fortune over to him. He'd treated her as so much dirt these past few yeas. So many times she had loathed her son, hated him, feared him. Yet something within her cried out with loss at the thought of his leaving.