They climbed up the far bank of the creek together. In the moonlight Till could see taller vegetation along the creek. He conducted her to a spot about fifty feet downstream where the brush was thick. He said softly, “We’ll wait here for them to catch up.”
Ann sat down beside the thick bushes. She looked closely at the leaves and realized they were probably young oak trees competing for space and light at the edge of the creek. Even in the dark, she could tell the back of the car was a mess. Besides the blown-out rear window and the holes punched in the trunk, there were dents and scratches along one side and one of the wheels had been knocked askew by the rock Jack had hit when the car went into the creek bed.
They waited for a long time without speaking or moving. Finally Ann Donnelly was more uncomfortable than afraid. She wanted to lie down on the bed of leaves where she was sitting, but the darkness was deep enough to let her imagine snakes and poisonous spiders. Just as her imaginary spiders had become scorpions, Jack touched her arm and whispered, “I don’t think they’re coming for us.”
“No?”
“No. We need cops, but calling them from here probably won’t help. They’d take hours to find us. Let’s walk out to the highway and call.”
“Okay. Should I take my suitcase?”
“No. If we make it out, we can get our stuff when they tow the car.”
They began to walk. Till led her farther down the creek bed to a place where it was dry and wide and the slopes were gradual, and then up onto the empty field. She said, “You were right. They seem to have left.”
“Yes. It’s kind of a mixed outcome. I was hoping that what I did to our rental car would happen to their car, too.”
“I’ll bet you’re wondering how you get involved in things like this.”
“I don’t wonder. I know why I do.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer because he had his telephone to his ear. “Yes. My name is Jack Till. A few minutes ago, two people in a car ran me off Highway G15. They fired a few shots at me and hit my rental car. They were in a green Toyota, late model, one of the bigger ones, probably a Camry or an Avalon.”
He listened for a moment. “My friend and I are stranded, but we’re not hurt. I can’t give you the exact location, but it’s a big field of weeds on the east side of the road about halfway between Soledad and King City. We’re walking back from a dry arroyo where our car got stuck. We’ll be near the road in a few minutes watching for a police car. Can you ask them to run their warning lights for us? I want to be sure the car I flag down isn’t the one that was chasing me. Thanks.”
Till disconnected and kept walking. “The cops will be coming along the road pretty soon. Probably by the time we can walk there.” He thought about what Ann Donnelly had asked—why he got involved in things like this. He had told her the truth. He did know exactly why, and it was a secret he had been living with and lying about for so long that the secret was a part of him. He never thought about it anymore except when something reminded him.
Till had graduated from UCLA at twenty-two with a major in history and no job, found temporary work as a clerk in a liquor store during the day, and waited tables in the evenings. A week after his roommates had moved on, Till found his own apartment in Hollywood, where rents were cheaper in the older buildings.
Two young cops named Johnny and José would visit the liquor store about once a week. The store was on their regular rounds because there were some street characters in the neighborhood who acted as snitches for them, and snitches didn’t like to be seen outdoors chatting with a pair of cops. Sometimes while they were waiting, Johnny and José would talk to Till. Late that fall, one of them said to him, “You’re a smart kid, Jack. You should be a cop.” He had laughed and said, “Not me, man. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
He remembered the words later because that was the night when the girl picked him out. He was in the Cobra Club, standing in a fluid crowd of people who were gradually making their way to the bar when she had simply appeared at his shoulder. He glanced down and noticed her long, dark hair, and then found that her brown eyes were already fixed on him. He had the presence of mind to smile and dispel the discomfort.
She smiled, too. “Hi,” she said. “Do we know each other?”
“No. I wish we did, though. Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure. White wine.” The meeting had been that quick and simple, as they always were when two people wanted to meet. She had stood with him and they had talked while they waited their turn at the bar. She said she had never been to this club before, but liked it, and he told her that he had heard of it a year ago but had never gotten around to a visit. Three times other men emerged from the crowd to ask her to dance, but she had turned a dimmer version of her smile on them and said, “No, thank you.” He had wondered if he was supposed to get rid of them for her, but he couldn’t see what that could accomplish other than a bar brawl that would scare her off.
He bought their drinks and they made an attempt to dance on the crowded floor, and then moved farther from the music until they could hear each other. He said he was Jack Till, and she said she was Nicole. He knew they were going to leave together and so did she, so he wondered why she didn’t want him to know her last name.
At one-thirty, she asked him to follow her home in his car. He was parked very close to the Cobra Club. When he had arrived after work at eleven-thirty, another car had just been pulling out of a prime space, so he had pulled in. He drove her to her car, and they kissed before she got out. He watched her step to her car, a little red Honda Civic, and felt astonished at his good fortune. She was extremely appealing, and they seemed to have formed an instant attraction. He was already aware that women often made their final decisions about men within a few seconds, but still wondered at her interest in him. As he drove east on Hollywood Boulevard, then north to follow her into the curving streets into the hills, he had misgivings. She was too pretty for him. Why had she picked him out among all of those men?
Had she made a bet with a girlfriend that she could pick up a guy before the girlfriend could? No. Men did that kind of thing, not women. Had she seen someone in the club she wanted to avoid? Maybe one of those guys who had hit on her while she was at the bar with him?
When Nicole arrived at her apartment building, pulled into the driveway, and waited for the barred gate to rise and let her drive down under the building to park in her assigned space, Till stopped his car at the curb across the street and watched. He half-expected her to go upstairs on the inner staircase and lock her door. Instead, she walked across the street and stood beside his car until he got out, then took his hand and said, “I didn’t see you behind me. I was afraid I lost you on one of those turns.”
“No, but if you were hoping you had, there won’t be any hard feelings.”
“I invited you.”
“But you might have changed your mind on the way.”
“You’re going to have to stop that.”
“What?”
“Asking me if I really mean the opposite of what I say.”
“Sorry.”
Jack followed Nicole into the building, up the carpeted steps and through her door. Her apartment was newer, cleaner and larger than his. She had a real living room with matching furniture and pictures on the wall like respectable adults had, and not an ill-assorted collection of garage-sale castoffs and dubious bargains like the furnishings in Till’s studio. A few minutes later, he discovered that she also had matching sheets and pillowcases that didn’t clash with the bedspread. After that he didn’t see much of the decor because he was devoting all of his attention to her. It was very late when she said, “Jack, I’m afraid you’ve got to go home now. I need to sleep before work.”