Sunday April 4 2004

Cuyamaca Rancho Park

Bobby woke to bright soft light. The front panel of the tent glowed from morning sunshine. A glance showed Eddie in his sleeping bag, making little stirring sounds. They were alone in the tent. Last night, after Amilee had said her goodbyes and left, the men had talked around the fire about nothing much until it had burned down, then headed for the left-hand tent. John Lynch, still in his clothes, had stretched out without covers on the floor of the tent between Bobby and Eddie. But he wasn't here now, and Bobby had no idea when he'd gotten up. Laurel had been inside his father's tent by the time Bobby and Amy and Eddie had arrived from the hilltop, but Bobby wondered whether she'd been asleep or just waiting.

He decided that teeth and hair could wait. He pulled on jeans and shirt and shoes and unzipped the tent. The air outside was quite a bit cooler, and crisp as a fresh apple. When he looked out, he saw his father straightening up from the fresh-laid but unlit fire.

Bobby walked out to join him. The raw dry wood was already beginning to smolder from the heat still in the embers of last night's campfire. He said to his father, "Morning."

"Good morning. You're up early."

"Not really," Bobby said. "This is about the time I always get up." He might have added that this was the first time since they'd reunited that his father was around and awake when he got up, but he didn't. John Lynch spent a lot of time out of the house without explanation, but Bobby was fairly sure those absences had something to do with keeping them all out of IO's hands.

His father reached for the big cooler, presumably Laurel's, that sat by the fire. Bobby said, "Need a hand with that?"

The older man hesitated. "Sure. Take one end."

Bobby grabbed one of the folding handles and lifted at his father's nod. He decided that his dad could probably have carried it alone with no problem. Well, duh. How did it get out of the car in the first place? They set it inside the little cargo bed.

"Thanks," his father said. "I don't know how soon she has to leave, or how fast she'll be moving. She had a lot to drink last night."

Bobby said cautiously, "She seemed nice."

"Yes." But he didn't say anything more.

The zipper of the right-hand tent rose, and Laurel appeared. It was the first time Bobby had seen her since dinner at the restaurant the night before, and the change was startling. He thought at first she was standing there in her underwear before he saw that she was dressed in a very short crop top and razor-slashed cutoffs that were briefer than her uniform. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and sleepy-looking, her lips full. Her hair was undone and draped over her shoulders and breasts in an unruly tumble. She looked just the way a girl should look after a night of lovemaking.

With a soft foof, the thread of smoke above the teepee of sticks disappeared, and flames jumped up to replace it.

Laurel squinted. "Ecch. Don't look at me."

Bobby's father gave him a glance. "It's always been a mystery to me that women don't know how beautiful they are in the morning."

"Lemme breathe on you. Then tell me how beautiful I am." She put out a hand to grasp the side of the door opening. The canvas flexed, and she stumbled. "Shit. Gotta be to work by eleven. I've got four hours to get human again." She disappeared back into the tent. The structure swayed, and Bobby heard a muttered curse. She reappeared with her bag. "Could I have a bottle of water, please?"

John Lynch reached into the cooler and pulled a half-liter bottle from the ice water. Bobby was sure he'd walk up and hand it to her, which she was plainly expecting. Instead, he gave it an easy underhand toss of ten yards. It thumped to the ground and rolled to a stop at her feet, and she bent carefully to pick it up. Then she turned for the woods.

After she disappeared, Bobby's dad said to him, "Did you have a good time last night?"

Did you? "Yeah. We should get kicked out of the house more often. I talked to Kat on the phone yesterday. They all had plans to go out, so I guess the girls had fun too."

"Ready to go back?"

He nodded. "By suppertime, anyway. School tomorrow." And there's someone I need to talk to tonight, and it may take awhile.

A few minutes later, Laurel reappeared, looking fresher and with her hair bound behind her in a thick tail. Her eyes fastened on Bobby's father. Bobby said, "Think I'll take a little walk," and headed down the hill.

"See you, Bobby," the girl called after him, and started down the slope to join Lynch at the Jeep. She said in a low voice, "We didn't. Did we?"

"No."

She nodded. "Didn't think so, but I wanted to be sure. I woke up without any clothes on." She stepped closer and looked up at him. "I don't remember putting them back on, but I don't usually sleep raw, either. And I sort of woke up last night, thinking I heard that zipper easing open."

He said, deadpan, "Maybe it was a mountain lion looking for something tender."

"It wasn't anybody. I was dreaming." She looked out over the sunlit hills. "This is kind of awkward. I remember crying in the tent because you wouldn't come with me. But now I feel this kind of weird relief that you didn't. It seems like apologies are in order, but I'm not sure for what, or who should start."

"I can't imagine what you'd need to apologize for. If I upset you last night, I'm sorry." He looked toward the landscape as well. "But if I had a chance at a do-over, I don't suppose it'd be any different."

She scoffed. "I can understand her breaking up with you. But, sure as I'm standing here, I know she'll always wonder if she made the right choice." She placed her forearms on his shoulders. "Glad I brought a toothbrush." She kissed him, hard, pressing him against the side of the Jeep with a demanding hip. When he put his arms around her waist, she pulled her head back and smiled. "Are you wondering, just a little?"

"More than a little." He gave the small of her back a little pat. "Say hello to Neal for me."

She giggled at that, picked up her bag, and stepped up into her Jeep. "If you want to say hello to him, I'll give you his number. I don't think I'll tell him a damn thing."

Lynch watched the Jeep disappear around the bend before he turned back towards the campsite. Eddie was watching from the front of the tent. "Breakfast at the stop, Mr. L?"

"Or lunch, depending on when we break camp." He approached the fire and held his hands up to its warmth. "Home's only an hour away. Missing the girls?"

Cautiously, Eddie said, "Which girls would we be talking about?"

Lynch chuckled, startling the boy. Has he really never seen me laugh? "Have you called home?"

"Once." He approached the fire. "I was kind of discouraged from calling again." He rubbed his hands together. "What do you think? Was it really that bad?"

"Well, it certainly sent a signal. Did she interpret it properly?" Lynch moved a step closer to the fire, and the boy, and lowered his voice. "Who were you planning to share them with?"

"Nobody. It just seems like a guy should carry a couple, just in case. Like a pocket knife, you know? And guys bum rubbers from each other all the time. I'd feel like a dork if I couldn't ever produce."

Lynch quirked a smile. "Almost like admitting you're a virgin, eh?" It occurred to Lynch that Eddie's explanation would be a very tough sell to any female under thirty. He lowered his voice again. "What does Bobby think about all this?"

"The Quiet Man? He doesn't say much, but he knows what the school scene is like – at least, the dawgs I run with. But he's not part of it. He doesn't have to be. If somebody asked him if he could spare a glove and he said he didn't have any, they'd just figure he was fresh out or had plans for what he had on him."

Lynch's eyebrows rose. "Really."

Eddie nodded at the fire. "This thing with Amy, it's not what you'd call a singular event. I see it at school all the time, in the lunchroom and the library or even at his locker. He's never alone. He takes an empty table in the library, and a girl he's never met will walk past three other empty tables and sit right across from him without so much as a hello, then lay out her books and crowd his space - just trying to get him to say something. You'd think he was an old boyfriend she's thinking of getting back with, swear. And now he's playing guitar onstage for a hundred drooling coeds with Mel and her girlfriends. You couldn't convince one guy in school that Bobby Lynch isn't getting any."

-0-

The minivan's dash chimed before they reached the highway. From the shotgun seat, Eddie saw Bobby glance down between the spokes of the steering wheel, frowning. "Gas light."

"Thought you filled up just before we hit the park."

"I did. The pump kicked off after a couple gallons. I thought maybe the gauge was off. But I don't feel like finding out the hard way."

Eddie looked ahead. The L-man's rental was leading by half a dozen spaces. The gas station they'd stopped at day before yesterday would come up before the restaurant, but Eddie doubted Bobby's dad would get all the way to the truck stop before he noticed they weren't following. "You're driving, dude."

As soon as Bobby slowed to turn into the station, the L-man U-turned and met them under the canopy. After Bobby explained the problem to him, he said, "Prudent not to ignore it. A bad gauge is a nuisance, but a tank that won't fill can be a sign of larger problems. Does it run okay?"

Bobby gave a little shrug. "Seems to. Haven't taken it over fifty since I gassed up."

"Try to fill it. But, instead of watching the pump, listen."

They each bent an ear as the fuel gurgled into the tank, listening to the deep echo. Bobby said, "Sounds empty," just as the pump snapped off.

"What causes that?" Eddie asked.

"Pressure differential," the Man in Black said. "Just keep restarting it. Go dead slow, that should help. Keep listening. You'll know when it's full."

"Okay." Bobby restarted the pump, sending a trickle of gas into the tank. "Amy says the restaurant gets crowded on Sunday mornings. Lined up out the door, even. Why don't you go on ahead and grab seats?"

The L-man hesitated, seeming about to say something. The pump clicked off again. Bobby restarted it. "I don't need you to watch me fill the frikkin tank, Dad."

The old dude turned without a word, got in his rental, and left. It occurred to Eddie that this was the first time he'd heard his bunkie call the L-man 'Dad' or anything like.

The pump shut off again, and Bobby restarted it. This was going to take a while, Eddie thought. "You know, there's signs all over this place telling you not to do that."

"I think that's just to keep people from spilling gas on the concrete. I'm sure it's safe." Bobby stared down at the handle. "Otherwise, he'd have taken it out of my hand and done it himself. As if I'm ten years old or something."

"Still pissed at him?"

"I don't know." Another shutoff and restart; Eddie thought the sound of the gas splashing down the tube into the tank was a little higher-pitched now. "Not really. But I can't just pretend the last fourteen years never happened. I can't just step into this long-lost-son role he's got scripted in his head. We've got to feel each other out and put together the relationship as we go." Another shutoff and restart. "He's sure not the dad I had in mind, back when I still daydreamed about having parents."

A car came down the road, slowing as it reached the station: a big old sedan with chrome bumpers and trim strips and protruding door handles. Eddie saw that the front plate was covered with a dirty rag. "Dude."

Bobby looked up at the car as it pulled to a stop in front of the glass doors, right on top of the 'no parking' stripes. The driver was sandy-haired and in need of a trim. He got out, and they saw that he was tall and none too tidy, dressed in jeans and a scruffy green jacket with lots of pockets that might have come from a surplus store.

"Low profile," Bobby said, and put his head down as the man looked around from beside his car. Eddie guessed the jerk was trying to decide whether to wait for them to leave. Eddie dropped his eyes and pretended to be watching Bobby fill the tank.

"We don't need Gen, dude," Eddie said in a low voice. "Just grab him when he comes out."

"And hold him till the cops get here?"

"Tie him up and leave, then," he said desperately.

"Which would make the police more interested in us than in him." Bobby lifted his eyes to the canopy overhead. Eddie didn't follow his look; he'd already seen the black plastic bubbles of the security cams.

"Crap." Eddie watched the bandit make his decision and walk into the store like a man on a mission. "What's the use of having super powers if you can't do a little good once in awhile?"

Bobby pulled the nozzle out and hung it up. Eddie noted that the meter read eleven gallons, not nearly enough to fill the mom-van's tank. "Hot day."

Eddie frowned. "What?" Not only had the remark come from nowhere, as if Bobby hadn't been listening; the midmorning sun had barely brought the temp into the mid-seventies yet. Then he glanced toward the door of the station, and saw the air above the perp's car shimmering with heat.

The door swung open, and the car's driver charged out, laden with snack bags. From inside the building, a woman's voice screeched. He made a grab for the driver's door handle and yelped, jerking back his hand and dropping half his loot. He flapped his hand to bring the sleeve over it and tried again.

"Bro," Bobby said as he opened the minivan's driver's door, "time to go."

Eddie paused at the shotgun door. Back at the getaway vehicle, the bandit clumsily swung his door open. Even from forty feet away, Eddie could see the oven-like heat pouring out, and smell hot leather and plastic. Sweat broke out on the guy's face, and he paused, then seemed to take a deep breath and gingerly eased into the opening. The instant his back and rear touched the seat, he nearly went through the roof.

"Eddie."

Eddie hurriedly got in and buckled up as Bobby pulled away, headed for the road. In the side-view mirror, he saw the store's door slam open. The cashier he'd talked to last Friday hustled out with a wooden ball bat in her hand. The Cheetos bandit was cramped inside his car, knees braced against the steering wheel and back arched to keep his butt out of the seat, his head mashed sideways against the headliner, his face red and pouring sweat. He stared at the approaching girl with widening eyes as he frantically fumbled with the keys. He dropped them when she swung the bat and the driver's-side window exploded in a shower of glass. He covered his head as she drew back for the next swing.

The minivan's tires gained the pavement, and Bobby accelerated away. "Hope she called 911 before she came out," he said. "That guy's gonna need help."

Eddie said, "Love you, man."

San Diego

Bobby shifted on the hard plastic chair in the repair shop's tiny waiting room, trying to distract himself from the reek of brake fluid by watching his father talking to the service tech at the counter. Bobby thought the exchange worth studying; it was the first time he'd seen the Man interacting normally with normal people.

Not that the interaction was entirely normal. The service guy's face had blanked when the big scarred man with the eyepatch had pulled open the door and marched to the service desk; he'd leaned right over it, making the poor guy kind of shrink back. The tech's unease had faded quickly, though, he'd smelled money, and he'd turned friendly and helpful and talkative. Bobby didn't understand much of the conversation, not being a gearhead, but he saw the mechanic turn kind of wary again when he realized this prospect knew enough about cars to have already diagnosed the problem and knew exactly what work he wanted performed. At the end, John Lynch had been doing most of the talking, and the tech had been nodding. Right at the end, Bobby's dad had made a short remark that had made the guy smile and bob his head more vigorously. John Lynch turned and caught Bobby's eye and they went out the door.

Eddie was sitting in the minivan's shotgun seat, idly thumbing through the vehicle's owner manual, thoroughly bored. He looked up at their approach. "Well?"

Bobby's dad said, "The work will take a few hours. We'll be leaving it. Clean it out and put everything in the car."

Eddie and Bobby glanced into the back, which held all their camping gear. "Clean it out?"

"That's right," the older man said. "The pockets and compartments, too. I don't want a scrap of paper left inside."

Eddie huffed. "Maybe we should wipe it down, get rid of the prints?"

The man's expression didn't change. "If I thought there was a chance you'd get them all, I'd say yes. But I'm sure the five of you have been all over the inside of this car since you came to La Jolla. Besides, if we have to abandon it, it means the wrong people already know we've been in it." He turned to Bobby. "I'm sure this seems ridiculous. It won't if we come back to find the service center staked out. The plates and the other numbers on the car won't tell them anything, but the method they'll use to catch us is the one we didn't think of. A receipt with a time stamp may be all the starting point they need to trace a path to our door."

They set to, packing the rental's trunk with tents and sleeping bags. The rest of their gear went into the rear seat, leaving barely enough room for a passenger. Grumbling, Eddie went through the map pocket in the passenger door, collecting gum wrappers and old gas-station receipts. Bobby did the same on the driver's side while his dad looked over the rear seat and cargo area.

Eddie stood by the door with a tall stack of Styrofoam takeout boxes. "Dump all this, you think? Hate tossing good eats, but I don't know about bringing it home. Might give Anna the wrong idea."

Their last meal at the truck stop had been by turns pleasant and mildly uncomfortable. Even though the tables had all been crowded, and the warming shelf between kitchen and dining area lined with plates, the wait staff, all of whom Bobby and Eddie had met before, had each made a point of dropping by for a few words. Amilee had been working another section, but every time Bobby had glanced her way, her eyes and smile had been on him.

Mid-meal, Bobby had visited the restroom. As he'd been washing his hands, a guy at the next sink had said, "That guy with you, the one with the scar. He the owner?"

Bobby had looked in the mirror at his questioner. "Owner? You mean, the restaurant?"

"Yeah. The girls won't leave him alone."

He'd finished and reached for a paper towel. "No. This place just has great service."

"Buddy, I come in here three times a week, and I never saw service like that. Your pal hasn't been out of reach of a waitress since he sat down. They're taking turns hanging around him, like he might fire them all if he can't get somebody with a snap of his fingers. No," he amended, "not like that. More like they know he's gonna leave a fifty under his plate when he stands up. He takes more than two sips from his cup, one of them is there with the pot. When the girl brought him his plate, she stood at his shoulder waiting for him to take a bite before she moved on. That's not service. That's …" He'd searched for a word "Attendance. He's not a regular, so what's up?"

Laurel and Cally and Amy have been talking, is my guess. Bobby had said, "You don't watch much daytime TV, I bet. He's got a supporting role in one of the soaps."

"Ah." The man had nodded and left.

Just as his dad had asked for the check, Laurel had arrived, dressed in jeans and denim jacket, covered from neck to toes and just as beautiful as she'd been this morning wearing almost nothing. She'd come up behind his father, placed her hands on his shoulders, and bent to bring her cheek next to his. "Had my talk with Neal. He was waiting for me when I got home. It didn't go the way he expected." She touched her lips to his temple. "Gotta get ready."

Bobby had traded glances with Eddie, and again wondered what had really happened between those two last night.

The check had arrived with a stack of take-out boxes that hadn't been on the bill. The girl delivering them had looked at Eddie and said, unsmiling, "For the trip home. Cook says she wants to make sure you don't starve on the way."

Now, standing between the van and the nearly-loaded rental and regarding the boxes in his bunkie's hands, Bobby said, "Take them home, if you can find room. You tell her how you got them, she'll probably look them over for recipe ideas." He paused. "Rox, on the other hand…"

"Yeah." Eddie stuffed them into a bit of space in back. "But, frankly, I'm not caring about that right now."

Bobby was just about to call it a job. "Bro, you check under the seat?"

"Yeh. Found enough change to buy a Slurpee. You be sure to check between the seat and the center console."

He hadn't thought of that. Bobby stuck a hand down in the tight space and let it travel back and forth. His hand touched a piece of paper, and he pulled it out. His mouth went dry as he stared at the blank receipt with the truckstop's name and address across the top and Amilee's number written on the back. He stuffed it into a pocket of his jeans.

La Jolla

The precautions about the car had turned out to be unnecessary, and they'd picked it up after watching two movies back-to-back at a nearby theater. They'd reversed the transfer process, loading everything from the rental into the minivan, and Bobby's dad had turned it in at a lot in town, riding the rest of the way to the beach house in the back seat.

They paused in the driveway while the garage door rose. Bobby, still behind the wheel, traded glances with Eddie in the shotgun seat. Showtime.

But only Kat and Anna greeted them at the door. Kat looked like she'd rushed up from the basement: her hair was up in a tail, she was wearing a set of her skin-baring workout outfits, and her skin was gleaming with perspiration. She put her forearms around Bobby's neck, and he suddenly had a double armful of warm and pleasantly sweaty girl.

"Missed you." She put her lips to his ear. In a lower voice she said, "She's in the shower. We weren't expecting you so soon." She released him, and turned to his bunkie.

Bobby watched closely, but when Kat put her arms around the Grungester's shoulders, he didn't give up any of the expected misbehaviors – no eye rolls, no fake grope, not even a grin. Even with his chin resting lightly in the big redhead's cleavage, his expression was … almost solemn. He patted the bare skin between her shoulder blades like he was greeting a maiden aunt, and he was the first to let go. "Where's Rox?"

She flicked a glance over Eddie's shoulder to Bobby's dad. "Not sure. Welcome home, sir."

"Yes," Anna said. "Welcome home, everyone." Although she was smiling, her welcome was a lot more reserved than her send-off had been. Bobby guessed that his father's presence might have something to do with that. "Perhaps Roxanne is taking a nap. She's been a little out of sorts today." She fastened her eyes on Bobby. "Let me show you what we're doing for dinner tonight."

She led him, with Eddie following, down the hall to the kitchen. But they didn't stop there. Anna slid open the door leading onto the back patio and pool deck. A few steps away, a huge stainless-steel grill stood smoking on the concrete.

"It's just seasoning right now," she said. "A combination gas-charcoal model. I heard charcoal gives better flavor, if you have time to prepare the fire."

"This is great," Bobby said. "One of my faves, just as promised. But the last thing I expected when I got home was a cookout."

"Mr. Lynch told me you guys ate every meal at a restaurant down the road from the campsite. Really roughing it. I thought you shouldn't go through the entire weekend without something cooked over a fire." From a door under the grill, Anna produced a bag of briquettes and tore it open. "We'll start grilling in about twenty or thirty minutes. Sarah should be about done in the bathroom. Maybe if you tap on the door and tell her you're home, it might hurry her along so you boys can wash up. Eddie, I have steak, seafood, and hamburgers, plus a selection of sides."

"That reminds me, mama-droid. I brought you something."

Bobby's thoughts wandered. If his dad had talked to Anna, it must have been on the phone, either last night while he was alone at the campsite or today when he was driving the rental. He turned to ask, and realized his father hadn't followed them out. He went back into the house and looked around the ground floor: no one was in the kitchen or living room. His father must be downstairs in his office already, catching up on a weekend's worth of neglected work. Bobby went down the hallway toward the bathroom door. He reached it just as it opened to reveal Sarah tucking a towel around her. She nearly ran into him and started.

"You're back," she said, locking eyes.

"Just now." Her yard-long hair was gathered behind her, but just damp rather than soaked; she must have had it up for the shower somehow. She smelled of soap, and her bare shoulders were beaded with water. He could feel the warm moisture rising off her skin.

"Good." She fussed with the towel, loosening it and wrapping it again, which molded it more tightly to her body, showing every curve. She looked up at him again. "Pass by, please?"

He was blocking the way out of the bathroom, keeping her standing in the doorway in a damp towel. He stepped back. "Sorry."

"Don't be." She took a single step out the doorway, which put them as close as before. "I won't be long. Meet me by the pool, and you can tell me all about your trip." She walked past him to her bedroom door and passed inside; he couldn't take his eyes off her until the door shut behind her. Then he lifted his gaze and saw Kat at the living-room end of the hallway, watching.

He sighed and went back to the garage to unload. He sorted through the mostly-new items filling the vehicle. He'd have to ask Anna where to stow the camping gear, but he knew what to do with most of the other stuff. He gathered up the takeout boxes, intending to take them to the kitchen. He entered the hall just in time to see his father leaving Sarah's room.

John Lynch glanced up the hall and saw him, but only nodded as he approached Kat and Rox's door on the opposite side. He tapped at the panel. "Roxanne."

Bobby said, "I think she's taking a nap."

"I don't." He tapped again. Behind him, Sarah poked her head out the door to look at his father and spotted Bobby. She held up a cautionary palm and retreated back into her room. After a short wait, the master of the house started down the hallway towards the kitchen. Bobby waited a moment, then followed, boxes in hand. He arrived just in time to see Eddie enter the kitchen from the deck, closing the slider behind him.

"Dude. The L-man just chased me inside so he could talk to Anna. What's going on?"

Bobby set the boxes on the counter. He looked through the sliders: Anna stood puppy-eyed in front of her boss, hands clasped in the way she did when she was making a special effort to be persuasive. "Don't know. What-"

His father turned to the door and slid it open. "There was a little trouble at the house before we came home. Nothing serious, but it warrants some attention. I'll let her explain." He passed through the kitchen and turned down the hall, moving like a man on a mission.

At the grill, Anna said, "Nothing serious, just a boating mishap. A cabin cruiser ran aground just up the beach. Nobody got hurt or anything." She rubbed seasonings into the steak and fish as she talked, and watched a two-quart pot heating on a side burner. "Another boat towed it to the marina for repairs, and the police gave the boaters rides to the station to fill out forms or something. But we had a lot of strangers up and down the beach and tramping through the side yard. A couple of men from the Coast Guard even came to the door. I sent the girls into the basement while I answered questions. The last of them cleared out just before you got home. Eddie, could you help me out? Sarah says outdoor grilling is the only kind of cooking that men really like to do."

"Well," Eddie said, "we wouldn't want to challenge Sarah's expertise on guys. Or anything else."

The door slid open again. Sarah passed through and slid it shut behind her. "Feel free to challenge me any way you like, Eddie. Bobby, why don't we go to the other end of the pool?"

They settled into facing lounge chairs. Sarah wore a simple scoop-necked tank and jeans that looked painted on; he tried not to stare as she drew her knees up and crossed her legs on the chair. With the soft sound of the surf in his ears, he said, "Heard you had a little excitement earlier."

"A little. But what about you? How was your weekend with your father? You've got to tell me everything."

'Nothing serious,' Sarah? But he doubted he'd get anything out of the Apache Princess she didn't volunteer; she had too much practice guarding her privacy. So he told the story of his weekend, beginning with the drive to the park. He skipped the bit about the gas station, intending to tell her the story of the Cheetos bandit separately. He described the meandering route and the sights along the way. Sarah listened with interest, putting in the occasional question or comment. But when he began to describe the park, she grew rapt. "It sounds beautiful. A little sparse, but beautiful."

"Yeah. Dad says it'll be even better in a couple weeks or so." At her nod, he said, "Remind you of home?"

"Yes," she said. "Very much." There was no mistaking the longing in her voice.

He worked his tongue around his mouth to wet it and swallowed. "Maybe we could go there. To the park, I mean."

"I know what you meant, Bobby," she said, her voice a degree cooler. "Tell me more."

He did. She smiled over Eddie's reaction to the park's warning sign. "We have pumas at home. But even with so many men out hunting, cat attacks are about as rare as lightning strikes. They tend to avoid people."

"Well, we never saw one. A girl I talked to hikes there all the time, and she said she's only seen one from a distance."

Her eyebrows rose. "A girl you talked to?"

He considered how much to tell her about the campers' Saturday night; after all, the girls had told him jack about their weekend; he had a feeling they were hiding something. And he didn't want to give Sarah any more fuel for the fire she'd helped build under Eddie's feet. And after all, what had Eddie done but take riding lessons from a friend of Amy's? As for his dad and Laurel, he had no evidence they'd done anything but down a few at the campfire together. Nothing worth telling, really.

The feel of Amilee's arms around his shoulders came back to him, as did the feel of her lips moving against his neck. But, seated across from Sarah, the memory twisted, and he imagined sharing that blanket with the girl facing him instead. "Yeah. A girl I met at a restaurant." He described the truckstop and its staff as he'd found them on his first visit. He said that their waitress had stopped by the campsite after work, omitting Amy's first visit from the story, and was just started on the description of the walk up the hill to see the sunset. He stopped cold at Sarah's titter.

"'Watch the sunset?' You fell for that?" She grinned. "Or maybe you just wanted to?" She shook her head. "Really, Bobby. Some brazen bleach-blonde from a legs-and-eggs truckstop? That doesn't seem your style at all." Her smile froze as she looked at his face.

He said slowly, "I don't know what you think you know about girls who wait tables at truck stops, but Amilee is good people. She's smart and sensitive, and I liked her attitude. She was good company."

For a few moments, the sound of the sea and the murmur of conversation between Anna and Eddie at the grill were the only sounds. "You're right," Sarah said quietly, staring out over the water. "It's wrong to make assumptions about people, especially hurtful ones." She brightened. "So, how did you get along with your father?"

-0-

"Great dinner," Bobby said as he brought disposable plates and utensils through the sliding door. He dropped the soiled items into the kitchen can. "Thanks, Anna."

Anna, standing at the sink, scrubbed at the fancy barbecue tools she'd dirtied. "You're very welcome. And thank you, for helping clean up."

"Don't want you to feel taken for granted. You might start looking for a new job."

She smiled at the sink. "I get plenty of job satisfaction, Bobby. I'm not going anywhere."

The food had been good, but dining had been a quiet business. Everyone had eaten sitting in deck chairs arranged in a circle by the pool, their plates on side tables by their chairs or in their laps. All through the meal, Bobby had studied his housemates, trying to gauge their moods. Conversation had been limited to comments about the food. Eddie had cleaned his plate, but not with his usual gusto, and hadn't reloaded, most unusual; he'd sort of acted as if he wasn't sure he wanted to be here. Dessert had been chocolate fudge cake, Eddie's favorite, but he'd eaten his portion as if it was a job. Bobby figured the big lug was still uncertain where he stood with Rox.

Roxanne was even stranger. She was quiet, and wouldn't look at Eddie for more than a second, as if afraid to meet his eyes. She'd mostly stared at her plate, picking at her meal. When she'd glanced up and seen Bobby's eyes on her, she'd colored and dropped her chin again. At first, Bobby had figured she was regretting the way she'd gone off on them Friday, but then he'd noticed that Kat and Sarah were watching Eddie, too, and watching his dad as well. Something else was going on.

The girls had scattered as soon as the meal was over. His father had watched them go, then left as well. Eddie had shrugged at him and gone for a walk down the beach. Bobby and Anna had the kitchen and pool to themselves.

Bobby leaned over the little cyber. "Anna, can you tell me-"

John Lynch appeared at the kitchen door. He'd changed out of his camping clothes and was back in black. "I'm going out. I'm not sure when I'll be back."

Anna turned from the sink to look at him. "Sometime tonight, sir?"

"Probably. I'm looking for someone, and I'm not sure how easy he'll be to find."

She said quietly, "Be careful, sir."

He turned away without giving a reply and disappeared down the hall.

Bobby said, "Nothing serious, right. Would it do me any good to ask?"

The little cyber turned back to the sink. "Maybe, if you ask the right person. I don't advise it." From the garage came the sound of a door rising. "Your father will handle it, Bobby. And I'm sure all the details will come out before long. Let it happen in its own time."

Bobby decided not to push it. He had his own secret to deal with, after all. He'd sort of promised Amy he'd share it, but he wasn't sure this was a good time. then again, when would be?

He went back out to the pool. The deck was all cleaned up, with just a faint scent of cooking lingering in the air. He looked up and down the beach, but Eddie was nowhere in sight.

His cell phone rang. He checked the number: Melanie. "Hey, Mel."

"Hey, yourself. Were you coming to practice tonight? We've got a gig Friday, you know."

"Um, sorry. Kinda slipped my mind. I've been out of town, just got back."

"So you missed all the excitement. Lucky you."

"Yeah." He stepped to the edge of the deck, standing on the top step that led down to the beach. "Things have been pretty hectic since I got back. The girls haven't brought me up to speed, really. But they told me about the boating accident."

"Boating accident?"

"Yeah. The cabin cruiser that ran aground up the beach."

"Good grief. I hadn't heard about that. I was talking about Saturday night."

He remembered that Kat and Rox and Melanie had been supposed to go out to a dance club. "Oh. Well, like I said, I haven't been home long. I know something happened last night, too, but I don't have any details."

"I don't have all that many either. Kat called me this morning to tell me Roxy made it home all right, but she didn't say much else. I got the impression she was royally pissed. Who could blame her, really? I know her little sister's a free spirit and all, but you don't just ditch the people you come to a party with like that. Course, getting pawed by Gary Benson might have had something to do with it, too."

He blinked. "Wait. You weren't with them? I thought the three of you went clubbing."

"They really didn't bring you up to speed, did they? The three of us plus Lori and Joel went to a frat party – not the kind with kegs in the living room, the kind you need an evening gown for. I spent most of the night flirting with the old geezers who run the fraternity, and picked up a few new gigs for the band. Meanwhile, Lori picked up a boyfriend, we got a new band member, Kat got molested, and Roxy disappeared."

"Kat in an evening gown? How could she not get molested?" He thought about Melanie's revelations, weighing them against the girls' odd behavior, and decided that the event to focus on was Rox's disappearance. Where had she gone, and what had happened? "I knew about half of that," he lied, "but I got it all in bits and pieces. You say Lori found a boyfriend?" Best to make his first interest seem like his last, he thought.

"Tall, dark, and handsome, as the saying goes. Named Reginald, if you can believe it. What an odd couple. But it was, like, love at first sight." Her tone turned teasing. "So, you've got a house on the beach, huh? Stylin. Ever going to invite me over?"

"Love to, but my dad is totally paranoid about guests. I'm not even supposed to give out the address. Sorry."

A pause. "This thing with the caller ID, it's not a glitch, is it?" Before he could think of a reply, she said, "Bobby, is your dad… all right?"

He smiled into the phone. "Yeah, he's all right. But his job takes him to some rough places, and the work he does kind of pisses off some nasty people. He's just cautious, is all. I have to respect that. What's this about a new band member? Lori's boyfriend plays?"

"No. A musical prodigy named Kimberly Perlman."

"You don't sound too pleased to get her."

"And you don't sound like you recognize her name. Well, we'll see how she works out. Anyway. I wasn't calling to rag you about making practice, really. I just wanted to talk to you. Kat told me you went camping with Eddie and your dad."

"Yeah. It was kind of spur-of-the-moment."

"Fun?"

"Somewhat. I'd do it again."

"Wouldn't have figured you for a back-to-nature type."

"Not, really." he smiled into the phone. "I'm just the type who enjoys simple pleasures." He launched into another description of the park without mentioning Amy and her girlfriends. "Had some car trouble on the way home. Nothing serious, but I guess it's good we headed home early." He shook his head when he realized he'd just repeated Dad's and Anna's reassurance. "So what happened to Rox?"

"I thought you might tell me. She disappeared a couple hours after we got there. She called, I guess just to let Kat know she was safe. I wasn't with them then, I was still schmoozing the Trustees. I met up with them just in time for Kat to get Rox's second call. Then Kat told me she had to leave, no explanation. Lori and Joel and I bummed a ride home with Reggie. It was cute watching him say goodnight to Lor in my driveway. High-school stuff. Anyway, that's all I know, except that she showed up home around midnight."

He heard the patio doors sliding aside, and turned. Kat stepped through, looking dressed for the pool – at least, she was carrying a towel and had her hair up. She wore a huge pink sweatshirt, short-sleeved but long enough to cover her butt; her legs were bare except for a pair of flip-flops. She saw him on the phone and hesitated.

"Mel," he said, "I gotta go."

"Come over tomorrow. We're going to do a second practice on Mondays from now on."

"Our new band member going to be there?"

"Don't think so. Weekdays aren't good for her."

Then why start practicing on Mondays? He decided to let it lie for now; he had more pressing matters. "Okay. Monday then. See you in school." He disconnected.

Kat dropped her towel on the back of a lounger and said, "I didn't want to start splashing around while you were on the phone. You didn't hang up for me, did you?" Her ponytail swung around to rest its tip on her shoulder, and she brushed it away absently.

"No. I kind of wanted to talk to you." Back at Darwin, before her transformation, Kat had worn her hair up like this all the time. For an instant, he saw her as she'd been then, looking up at him through her thick glasses with a wide kid-sister smile. She'd always been a good listener, somebody you could talk about anything with, somebody you could trust with a secret.

Kat said, "Have I got something on my face? What are you staring at?"

"That sweatshirt. It's the same as the one you brought with you at Darwin, the one you used to wear after school."

"Not quite. I'm sure this one has at least another yard of material." She crossed her wrists at the front of her hem.

He added, "Mel said you had some trouble last night."

She let go of the garment and dropped her hands. "A little."

"I'm not asking about what Rox did. I think there might be a reason not to talk about that yet." When she seemed to relax a bit, he said, "But what happened to you last night?"

"Nothing serious," she said, and Bobby felt his molars compress. Then she said, "Some guy I met at the party sort of cornered me and got a little aggressive. That's it, really."

"You use Gen or Dad kwon do?"

"Neither. Lori and Joel broke us up." The corner of her mouth quirked. "Lori used a stun gun on him."

"No," he said, grinning, and suddenly feeling much better; talking with Kat was always like that.

"Yes. We left him on elbows and knees with his rump sticking up in the air, kind of sounding like a puppy in a box." They smiled into each other's eyes until she said, "That's not what you wanted to talk about."

"Not really." He eyed the patio doors, then turned back toward the steps leading to the beach. "Do you mind if we walk? I think it'll be easier, and besides, I'd rather keep this between us."

-0-

Roxanne sat at the foot of her bed with her hands clasped between her knees, willing her stomach to settle down. She supposed the queasy feeling might be the last traces of her epic hangover rebelling against the tiny portion of solid food she'd put in her belly at dinner, but she didn't think so. More likely, it was from thinking about what she needed to do next.

Kat had just left. When she'd come in and found her, she'd said quietly, "You okay?"

Roxy had hung her head. "I just wish this weekend was over. Actually, I wish this weekend had never happened."

The big redhead had plunked her butt down on the mattress next to her, creating a valley that pushed them together. Kat had put an arm around her. "I was headed for the pool. Throw on a suit and come out with me. I won't do laps, we can just paddle around and soak."

Roxy had just shaken her head.

"You haven't traded three words with him yet, have you?"

"Sis, we haven't spoken a word." Her hands had clenched and unclenched.

"He doesn't seem angry."

"No. But he's not acting right. Not at all." She shifted. "Go for your swim, Sis. I'm gonna stay here awhile."

Kat had changed into her modest two-piece and toed a pair of flip-flops out of their shared closet. "Sure?"

"Yeah. Just let me mope."

"You're not moping. You're hiding again."

Alone once more, she sat a while longer, gathering her courage. When she was just about to stand, she heard the doorknob turn, and Sarah slipped inside.

Roxanne eyed her. "Come to talk me out of it?"

"No. I'm sure it's useless. Cigarettes aren't your only unhealthy addiction, I'm afraid." The Apache Princess sighed. "Just don't start apologizing. You didn't do anything wrong, Roxanne."

"No." But scrambling for the moral high ground is a battle that's not worth the casualties. And the view from the top sucks. Roxy thought of Sarah's words the day the boat boys had made their first appearance. "I was just way too close to doing something impulsive and selfish."

Sarah bridled. "And how would giving in to that goshe been selfish?"

"Cuz while I was letting that jerk paw me, I was thinking about all the girls my boyfriend might have done behind my back. And jealousy is about the most selfish feeling there is."

Sarah sat beside her, as Kat had done, and put an arm around her; with her other hand, she stroked Roxy's hair. "You were drunk. Forgive yourself, will you?"

"It's not excuse enough." Roxanne didn't waste a moment pondering the motives behind the Apache Princess's unaccustomed tenderness; she simply leaned into Sarah's shoulder. "It isn't that he won't look at me. He's not giving me the cold shoulder. He's looking right through me, like…."

Beside her, Sarah stilled. "Like you don't matter anymore."

-0-

Sarah left Roxanne in her room still gathering the courage to speak with her boyfriend – if that was what he was or had ever been. The Apache girl was of two minds about the strained relationship. While Sarah was certain her little friend could do better for herself, she really was stuck on the big gorilla, and getting dumped by him might crush her. And what kind of separation could they have if they were still forced to share a roof? Reluctantly, she decided that, for now at least, it might be best if Roxanne and Eddie stayed together.

But she had a suspicion that there was more to Eddie's cool behavior than anger over his weekend exile. Either he'd learned of Roxanne's little misadventure and misinterpreted it, or something had happened while the boys were camping. And, after talking to Bobby, she had a good idea what that 'something' had been. She doubted there were any condoms left in Eddie's wallet now. She intended to find out from Bobby exactly what Eddie had been up to.

She tapped at Bobby's door: no answer. It seemed likely he was in the kitchen with Anna, and it was on the way to the living room anyway. She put her head in the doorway and saw, through the sliders, Anna standing at the top of the beach steps, staring out at the sea.

Another invasion? Quickly she passed through the kitchen and onto the deck. Once there, she saw that the little robot wasn't looking out over the water, but southward, down the beach. Sarah rounded the pool for a better look.

A hundred yards down the beach, Bobby and Caitlin were walking, close enough to brush elbows at every step. They seemed to be talking. Their pace was leisurely, a step every second or two; they paused often to face each other with the sea licking at their feet. Clearly they were down there for company rather than exercise. And privacy?

They started walking again. Caitlin's hand brushed Bobby's, and he clasped it.

Sarah swallowed. What on earth was going on around here? She reminded herself that Bobby and Caitlin had always been extra close, but only as friends. They'd been separated for a while and were catching up, that was all.

At Darwin, Caitlin and I were like sisters. Relationships change. She glanced at the little android staring intently at the strolling pair. Realization struck. She said, "You can hear them, can't you?"

Anna's eyes never wavered. "Yes."

But you're not going to tell me, are you? She looked back down the beach at the … couple? Certainly any stranger watching them would think so. Sarah had always suspected the big redhead – even when she'd been a little redhead - had had feelings for Bobby that went a bit south of friendship, but Bobby had always treated her like a sister, and she'd never had the nerve to make the first move, either before her transformation or…

Caitlin suddenly seized her companion, wrapping her arms around him and putting a hand to the back of his head to draw their faces together; after half a second, Bobby circled her in his arms as well, and they stood like that as the seconds ticked by with the tide foaming around their ankles. Sarah couldn't see, from this distance and angle, but she was sure they were kissing.

She heard a soft sigh behind her. It was Anna, still standing at the top of the stairs. Only then did Sarah realize that she'd taken several steps down the deck towards the pair on the beach.

"It's not what you're thinking." Anna turned toward the house. "Not that I really know what you're thinking."

-0-

"Sorry," Kat said into Bobby's ear. "I just had to. I'd let go if I could, but… oh, God, Bobby."

Bobby's palm rubbed the soft fabric over her shoulder blade. "Could you loosen the grip a little, then? It's kind of hard to breathe."

"Oh. Sorry." She relaxed somewhat, but still kept his head firmly pressed into her shoulder. She took a deep breath and shakily let it out. "What happened to them?"

"The Grants? Jail, till the youngest of us comes of age, at least."

"And the other kids?"

"Different institutions. Some of them are probably fostered out, but I'm not sure. We were sort of discouraged from keeping in touch. Not that we would."

"Those last few days at the Complex… must have brought back some memories."

"Some. But the real shock was when the door swung open." He pressed the back of his head against her hand until she relaxed it enough for him to pull his head back to look into her eyes. Kat had always had the most fascinating eyes, he thought. They were dappled with spots of lighter green that changed their color just a little with her moods, like Rox's. And, in their depths, tiny flecks of dark amber like slivers of copper that almost matched her hair, flecks that he hadn't seen since she'd quit wearing glasses. He'd seldom been this close to her. They'd occasionally touched foreheads in study hall at the complex; once, after he'd aced a killer exam with her coaching, he'd picked her up and carried her down the hall, both of them whooping, and given her a quick kiss. But they'd never spent a moment in each other's arms. Bobby smiled, thinking that, if one of Mr. Ricci's hired boys was watching, he must be sure they were making out.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Just thinking about when you still wore glasses. You ever grabbed me like this back then, you'd have had to stand on a box to whisper in my ear." When she smiled back, he said, "I know some of the other kids had a real hard time after the Grants were arrested. I had a regular appointment with a shrink the first couple months. She seemed really disturbed at how well I was taking it all. Foster mom got a little nervous when she was fixing dinner and I came into the kitchen. All those sharp knives, you know? Everybody was waiting for me to snap.

"The thing is, by the time the State gave me to the Grants, I'd already been through so much crap it wasn't such a big deal. Don't squeeze me again, Kat, jeez. I just mean, I'd had a chance to toughen up first, so it wasn't as big a shock to me as it was for some of the others. Just another turn of the screw, kind of. That's why I didn't need therapy and drugs and a support group." He touched his lips to hers for just a moment. "A friend like you's all the therapy I need. Let's head back. I feel like another helping of that fudge cake."

-0-

Roxanne paused at the kitchen door, half expecting Grunge to be feeding at the table again an hour after dinner. Instead, she found Bobby and Kat eating gooey chocolate cake off the same plate and gazing at each other in a way that was kind of disturbing, mostly because the gazers were Bobby and Kat. They looked up as she said, "Uh, seen Grunge?"

"Took a walk," Bobby said, using his fork to point through the slider toward the northern leg of the beach.

She went out back. Standing at the top of the beach steps, she looked north up the beach to the rocky spur that walled it off from the public beaches beyond: no Grunge. She looked the other way, toward the Riccis' fence. He was nowhere in sight. He might have climbed over the rocks, she thought, to hit on one of the bikini-clad coeds from MacArthur or USC who infested the strip of sand there. Or maybe he'd walked around front to the sidewalk, to stroll along the housefronts or even catch a bus. She was debating whether to just head back into the house and wait when she spotted tracks, a solitary trail in the firm flat sand just above the waterline, headed toward the rocks.

She went down the steps and followed. The shoes that had made the prints were large and deep-treaded and looked like his favorite kicks. The westering sun threw them into deep relief, making them visible a long way down the beach; they were still headed straight for the rockwall. If he'd climbed over and was mingling, she decided, she'd turn back for the house. The discussion she had in mind was nothing to have in front of strangers.

A breeze came in off the water, making her wish she'd brought a coat. It was still pretty warm, but the temp sometimes dropped quickly out here when the sun went down, at least this time of year. She wondered what summer here would be like. Then she thought about spending the next two or three months sharing this house with Eddie in his present strange mood, and shivered.

She was clambering up among the rocks and feeling very shaky before she saw him. He was sitting on a stool-sized stone in a small sand-floored depression, gazing out to sea with his forearms on his thighs. He looked very much like he'd come here to be alone.

He glanced down at her. "Hey, Rox." His eyes returned to the horizon.

She took a breath, gathered her strength and her nerve, and finished her climb to join him. Standing behind him, she said, "Did you come to watch the sunset?"

"Not really. Just thinking. You sound a little winded."

She deliberately slowed her breathing. "I, uh, it's a tougher climb than I remembered." Still weak from the alcohol poisoning, I guess. Am I up to this?

"Surprised you didn't just float up." Still that detached tone, as if it didn't really matter if she answered or not. Like someone making small talk with a stranger on a bus.

"Be just my luck a spy satellite would be looking at me."

"Or somebody on a boat with binocs."

She froze. He knows? No. Just talk. "Yeah." She didn't know what else to say, didn't know how to start or where the conversation needed to go. She was afraid to ask him about his weekend, because reminding him of the fight Friday seemed a really bad way to start off.

And what if he asks me how I spent my weekend? How could I begin to explain without him thinking that I …

He said, "I met a girl last night."

Everything stopped. Even the sound of the waves coming in seemed to pause for a moment before resuming.

He went on, "She's the exact opposite of you, every way I can think of. But I liked her."

She found her voice somehow, though it didn't sound right. She said to the back of his head, "Is that why you liked her?"

"No. Not at all. But it surprised me. That's when I realized." He shook his head a little, eyes still on the sea. "Since I met you, I compare every girl I meet to you. And usually, the more she reminds me of you, the better I like her."

A sharp retort rose up: then why do you keep looking around? But fear pushed it back down before it reached her lips. Not only because she was trying to avoid a fight; she had a feeling she wouldn't really like an honest answer. Instead she said, "Are you going to see her again?"

"Don't think so," he said, which she didn't find encouraging at all.

They stayed that way, him sitting on his rock staring out to sea, her standing in the sand a step behind, neither of them talking. Then, not really intending to, she moved closer until her knees were almost touching his back. "Last night ... I met a guy." She looked down at his wide shoulders and imagined them under her hands. "I told him he was nothing like you. It sounded right, but I only said it because he was charming." She rested a hand, feather-light, on his shoulder. "Later, I realized it was really true, but not until I stopped liking him." She held her breath and waited: For a show of jealousy or anger, for the questions that might end the two of them forever, or just for him to spurn her hand by getting up or brushing it off.

One of his big hands rose up to cover hers. "Not going to see him again, then?"

Her heart leaped. "I'd better not, or he'll be sorry." She slid her other hand around his neck.

He said, "Think this weekend changed either of us?"

"I think maybe it changed us both, a little at least," she said, resting her chin on his head. "But as long as we still recognize each other, I guess it's okay."

-0-

Bobby was sitting on the couch in the living room, at peace with the world. Vertigo was nearing its terrific conclusion on the TV in front of him, and a beautiful girl was curled up against him, her drawn-up knees resting on his thigh and one hand positioned almost possessively on his shoulder. He smiled to himself. If this is the homecoming I can expect, I ought to leave the house for a weekend more often.

Sarah turned her head away from the screen, drawing her hair along his neck like a silk scarf. "Did you hear something?"

With his attention pulled away from his immediate surroundings, he could hear a humming rumble. "Garage door. Dad must be home."

The movie ended. Sarah stretched, still up against him, raising goosebumps on his arms. "Too bad," she said. "She should have told him the truth sooner." She swung her feet off the couch and stood. "I think I'm ready for bed, how about you?"

With an effort, he took a breath. "Yeah. Been a long weekend."

She took his hand to tug him off the couch. "Well, come on, then." As his glutes tightened, she said, "I'll walk you to your door." She hung on to his hand as they left the room and turned down the hallway. "You know, Bobby, I-"

They both stopped. Anna was kneeling at the door into the garage, wiping a red smear off the casing three inches off the floor. "Not his," she said, turning the damp cloth. "But I wouldn't ask, if I were you."

32