After I went a few more yards, the trail split. I took the arm to my left, but soon found it was descending. I retraced my steps, took the other arm uphill. The terrain quickly became more rugged, the vegetation sparser. I came up against a rock ledge, raised my flash, and realized I'd come to the "giant steps"-three feet or more in height, set one atop the other. A light glowed beyond the highest step; I was very close to the place where Taylor liked to lie and imagine the tranquility of death.
My heart beat faster. I stood still, strained to hear. No sound up there but the wind.
I began climbing the steps, boosting myself up, remembering the old schoolyard game of Mother, May I?
Mother, may I take a baby step? A banana step? A giant step?
One more giant step. Then another. Light glowing brighter now. One last step, higher than the others. Rest before you climb it.
I looked up, saw a ring of eucalypti faintly illuminated by the lantern rays. Their branches and ragged, curling bark were etched against a high-drifting fog. Nothing else moved up there. No one spoke. Did anyone still breathe?
A sick dread of what I might find filled me. And then I heard a sound… a sob. Davey.
A soothing voice said, "Hush." Then it began to sing. The voice was D.A.'s, the words in another language. Miwok? The cadence was that of a lullaby.
Slowly I pulled myself over the last step. The ground above it sloped upward; my sight was blocked by a fallen tree. I flattened, wriggled forward on my stomach. Peered over the tree trunk.
The slab of rock sat in the middle of the clearing. The lantern stood at its far side. Taylor lay on his back, one denim-covered knee bent upward, his left arm flung, over his eyes. His right arm-the one closest to me-encircled Davey. The pajama-clad little boy lay with his head on his father's shoulder. He'd stopped crying, but his dark eyes darted around the clearing. I saw no gun, no other weapon.
Cautiously I raised myself above the tree trunk. Davey spotted me instantly, and his eyes flashed with recognition.
I shook my head. Pantomimed that he should pretend to sleep. For a moment he looked confused. Then he shut his eyes.
Taylor's singing trailed off in a minute or two. Resumed. Trailed off again. He sighed deeply, and then his chest moved up and down in a regular rhythm. After a bit his mouth sagged open and he began to snore.
Davey opened his eyes, looking at me. I shook my head, waited another couple of minutes before I motioned for him to come to me.
He sat slowly, watching his father. Slipped away from his encircling arm. Stood and moved quietly across the clearing. I pulled him down beside me on the other side of the tree trunk.
Putting my lips close to his ear, I whispered, "Everything's going to be okay now. Mia's down on the beach with Libby. Can you get back there on your own?"
"… If I have a light."
"Come on, then."
We wriggled back to the first giant step, and I boosted him over it. Handed him my torch. He glanced around at the encroaching blackness, but when he looked at me again, his gaze was steady, resolute. In it I recognized the strength and pride his father had possessed so long ago.
"Be careful," I whispered. "Tell Libby I said to take you and Mia home. Then she can come back for your daddy and me."
For a moment he looked longingly upward, to the misty light coming from the clearing where his father slept. Then he turned and let himself down the next step.
I remained where I was, giving him a five-minute head start before I went to rouse D.A.
Taylor took a great deal of rousing. He thrashed and mumbled and jerked violently away from my outstretched hand. I got a firm grip on his shoulders and hauled him to a sitting position. He hunched over, black hair down in his eyes. For a moment his emaciated frame shuddered. Then he looked up at me.
Beneath the shaggy fringe of hair his eyes were as burnt-out as the first time I'd looked into them. He stared at me without recognition.
I said, "D.A., it's time to go home now."
He didn't reply, merely moved the focus of his gaze to the lantern and then around the clearing. He put a hand on the smooth rock and stroked it.
"Do you know where we are?" I asked.
"I know."
"Do you remember coming here?"
He considered, shook his head. "I often do."
"You brought your children with you this time."
"My children."
"Mia and Davey-"
"I know who my children are." Now a puzzled expression crossed his face. He continued to look around the clearing. "I was singing to them… Where are they?"
"On their way home."
He nodded, as if he'd suspected as much.
I sat cross-legged on the end of the rock, looking about for the gun Mia thought he'd taken. There was no sign of it. "D.A., why did you come here tonight?"
"It seemed time, I suppose." He was entering one of his periods of lucidity now; I could tell by his expression and the tone of his voice. "But I'm not all that clear on it, to tell you the truth. There were some pills, and some wine."
"I see. What's the last thing youare clear on?"
"You'll have to refresh me as to what day this is."
"It's Friday, near midnight."
He looked down at his hands, making an effort to recall. "As near as I know, this began a couple of days ago."
"On Wednesday, when you went to San Francisco to see Tom Grant."
His fingers clenched spasmodically.
"How did you know where to find Grant, D.A.?"
"… There was a map, drawn for me. It showed where his house was."
Although it didn't surprise me, anger at Libby Ross rose, forcing me to choke back a curse. After I got it under control, I asked, "Why did you go there?"
"Just to see. I wanted to know what had become of the man who betrayed us."
"And you saw…?"
"He was afraid. Oh, there was something about someone just having attacked him, and a bump on the head, but I knew I was the one he really feared. He hid behind scorn and ugly words and threats-just as once he hid behind Andy Wrightman. But in the end, he was very afraid."
I bit my lip, remembering the blood-spattered workshop and the ruin of what had once been human.
"Tell me about the ugly words," I finally said.
Taylor made a motion with his hand, brushing the request away. "They were very unpleasant."
"Did he tell you about Jenny-about how he drove her to suicide by working on her guilt over turning you and Libby in, and gave her the gun?" It was the only explanation I'd been able to come up with for Grant going to such lengths to keep his past from coming under scrutiny. He'd rid himself of a woman who was a great liability, but he'd done it by providing her with a weapon that he should have turned over to his fellow agents when they'd searched the flat on Page Street.
But Taylor shook his head. "He didn't need to. Libby and I knew; we've always known. Jenny could only have gotten that gun from the man who knew where the weapons were kept in the flat. No, what he said was worse than that. He said it was Perry who betrayed us."
Again I wasn't surprised.
Taylor added, "I couldn't listen to him say those things. Perry was the man I looked up to the most. If he betrayed us, then… there were no heroes."
D.A. bowed his head again. A sudden gust of wind swirled through the clearing. From below I heard the faint noise of a motor-the overworked one on the boat I'd piloted earlier. Davey had reached safety; Ross was taking them home.
The lantern flickered, getting low on fuel. I stood. "D.A., come back to shore with me. We'll work this out."
He shook his head.
I went over to the lantern, turned it down lower. "Come on," I said. "You'll be okay." I stretched out my hand.
He didn't seem to see or hear me. His gaze moved around the clearing, stopping here and there, as if the trees and rocks and plants were cherished objects. Then his eyes met mine-their always fleeting light extinguished so totally that not even the rays from the lantern enlivened them.