Back into the evening now, the darkness complete, the lights of the shops bright and alluring as diamonds, the dog collared and leashed, flouncing back and forth in front of him. Past the gleaming storefronts and the central courtyard, past the benches and the planters and the fish pond, through the booths again, winding through Fashion Island like a snake on a prowl, alert to danger and opportunity, attuned to every odor on the breeze and every nuance from the bodies of the mammals all around him, Hypok himself the head of the serpent, the ultraviolet eye, the heat pit sensor, the aroma-gathering tongue, the collating brain in a secret hunt among the privileged and prosperous, the harried and the careless, the vain and the ignorant, the innocent and the pure.
He stopped at the intermittent fountain, a kid pleaser at all times of the day and night. His brain panted.
Hypok receiving: two twelve-year-olds unattended and perilously brash looked his way with admiring eyes, old as they were it sent a ripple of electricity up his back. A tandem stroller for two-year-old twins in pink, just a hair too young. A petite Indian girl in a sari, dark and mysterious as the Ganges of which Hypok was reminded, picturing crocodiles taking down Hindu bathers in diapers and turbans.
Then, his senses all ratcheted up a full degree and his breathing shortened as a five-year-old pigtailed seductress in overalls and black tennies spotted Loretta and angled straight toward her, its hair tawny brown in the lights, its arms thin, its face a littoral of light and shadow but a mask of pure happiness to be sure, white teeth and red lips and eyes dark as tidepools at midnight — an Item so absolutely perfect and compelling that Hypok’s breath shallowed out to almost nothing, snagging against his throat like a skiff on a Key West flat, and he breathed in deeply now and fumbled for his cinnamon drops as he knelt and fed out leash so Loretta could wobble out to greet this radiant, approaching Item.
He watched the Item sit cross-legged, with Loretta climbing all over its lap. The Item grabbed the puppy’s head gently, steadied it while looking into Loretta’s face, then kissed her on the nose.
“You smell good!”
Its voice was thin and high and very clear, made you feel like you were breathing mountain air, or amyl nitrite poppers.
“Her name’s Loretta,” he managed.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Expand lungs. Relax.
The Item looked at him for the first time, and Hypok knew that its first reaction to him would make it gettable or not. He waited like a disciple for a miracle, or a revelation from his master. Then, an ocean of warm optimism rolled through him when it smiled and said, “Mine’s Ruth.”
Ruth! A genuine name! The Book of Ruth!
“Here,” he said, “you can offer her a reward.”
“What did she do?”
“She’s being nice to you.”
Hypok cracked open the box of doggie treats and held one — shaped like a tiny hot dog — out toward the Item. It leaned forward, still sitting, still smiling, and took the biscuit.
Loretta got a whiff of it and jumped toward the Item’s hand, then tried to climb its arm.
“She’s hungry!”
“Hold the treat over her head, tell her to sit, and tug gently on the leash.” Hypok felt the warm, surging seas inside him starting to settle and solidify. The breeze against his ears suddenly felt cool and instructionaclass="underline" get it to the van. “Tug gently on the leash.”
When Loretta felt the tug, she wheeled left, then right, trying to locate her torment. Then she stopped, looked up at the Item’s lowering hand and leaped, snatching the treat midair and dropping it to the ground. She whirled around, trying to find it through all her hair.
“Ohhh!”
“That’s all right, Ruth. She’s got a lot to learn. Just like her brothers and sisters.”
“How many puppies do you have?”
“Well, there’s Mommy, Daddy and five others. Loretta is the happy one, because she knows she’s staying with me and her parents. The others are sad. So I left them in my car.”
“Sad why?”
“I’m taking them to the shelter. Hopefully, they’ll find homes, but you never know. Puppies understand that kind of thing. They understand when they’re safe and when they’re not.”
“Ohhh. That’s sad.”
“It’s very sad. It breaks my heart, actually. So I stopped here to get a box of treats for them all. I’m just looking for excuses not to drive to that animal shelter.”
“I wish I could take them.”
“I doubt your parents would be very happy about that.”
“No. We have a cat.”
“Where are your mom and dad, by the way?”
Ruth looked at him, then turned and pointed to a crowded restaurant lobby. The place was packed — people standing outside, inside, everywhere. “Getting dinner to go.”
It looked like a long wait.
“Which ones?” he asked.
“Oh, they’re in there somewhere. We do this every Friday. They let me watch the fountain because it takes so long, and Daddy can have wine, but he can’t bring it down here.”
Loretta had rolled onto her back while the Item scratched the dog’s hairy little belly.
“You know, I’ll bring the box out, and you and your mom and dad can at least look at the others,” he said. “No harm in that, I guess. Who knows?”
The Item smiled again, lifting Loretta up into its arms and staring into her hidden puppy face. “Could I have this one?”
“She’s mine! But I’ll let you see the others. All right?”
“Great!”
Hypok stood and walked toward the Item, bending down to take Loretta.
“Can’t she wait with me?”
“Well, I should keep her in my sight.”
“But I’ll watch her.”
“No... I really can’t let her be away from me like that. Let’s see... why don’t you... you know, my car is just right over there, so if you want to take the leash and walk her for me, that would be okay.”
“Can’t leave the fountain, Dad says.”
“Well, that’s understandable,” he said, softly.
Hypok set Loretta down and held the leash. The Item looked sadly at the puppy. He said nothing for a long, punishing moment.
“Actually, I won’t be able to bring them out, I guess, because I have to carry the box, too. Someone else would have to take Loretta.”
He smiled, then offered his most contrite and penitent expression. It was good enough to make God believe him. He held out the leash.
“It’s right over there. We’ll probably be back before your dad even gets his wine.”
The Item smiled too, and stood, then scampered toward his outstretched hand, reaching for the leash.
“Let’s go fast now,” he said.
“Come on.”
“I’m right behind you.”
A quick pivot of scaled head toward the restaurant lobby: a chaos of happy, hungry humans, the smell of food, white lights against the blue-black springtime sky of Southern California.
Ruth!
Thirty
You stand in a room where a person was murdered hours ago and the room feels different than others. It feels ashamed. It feels violated. It feels guilty. You tell yourself it’s just in your mind, that you’re projecting yourself into the space, but places like that are different, even if you can’t tell why. They scream, but the scream is silent. They offer proof, but the proof is hidden. They wait for you to make things right. So you listen, and you look and you hope.
I’d gotten out of the department building as soon as I could, after reorganizing some of the CAY task force responsibilities and huddling briefly with Wade over the question of the media and my new exonerated status. We decided not to hold a press conference and not to release the story through Public Information just yet, hoping that The Horridus would continue his computer transactions with me. There was only a small chance that he would, we agreed, but it was a chance worth taking. There was still a small chance, too, that Vinson Clay over at PlaNet would do the right thing and finger I. R. Shroud for us — if I could get him back on the line. The Bureau had talked to Vinson, throwing their weight behind our plea. For myself, I would simply remain for a few more days as the accused child molester I had been, with few people outside the department much the wiser. Easy. At my insistence, The Horridus task force room was going to be staffed twenty-four hours a day with investigators and deputies assigned directly to the case. I had the feeling that The Horridus was about to rampage soon: he struck and failed and he wasn’t going to wait another thirty days to try again.