March 2004
La Jolla
"Roxanne. Good morning. For some reason, I didn't expect you to be the first one up."
"Yeah, well, maybe you don't know me as well as you think." The girl's tone was irritable, but not surly. Some people wake up out of sorts, Anna thought. Perhaps she's a bad riser. Or perhaps it was the dreams.
"I think I hardly know you at all, but I'm eager to change that. Did you sleep okay?"
"No. Is there any coffee?"
"I can make some in less than three minutes." She set up the coffee maker. "I'm brewing this to Mr. Lynch's taste. If you prefer it another way, you'll have to tell me. Was there something wrong with the room?"
"Nothing you can do anything about. My bunkie snores." A half second later, she said, "Wait. Yes. When you take Kat shopping, buy her a teddy bear."
"What's that?"
Roxanne gave her a sharp look, and she knew she'd made another mistake. "A little plush toy. Pink. It's her favorite color. If it doesn't help her sleep better, maybe I can stuff it in her mouth."
A hyperbole, surely. In a low voice, she said, "If you're having trouble sleeping, perhaps we could get you something mild to take. Until you settle into new surroundings."
"No. No drugs. Nicotine's all the bad habit I need." The girl looked up at her. "Anna … you ever have bad dreams?"
"I never dream," she said. "How do you take your coffee?"
"I'll fix it myself."
"Tomorrow, maybe. Not today." She got a mug down. "Well?"
"Cream and sugar, lots."
"All I have is milk. Half-and-half is on my list. Would you like some breakfast? Choices are limited until I go shopping."
"I'm not hungry. Maybe later." Roxanne put an elbow on the table and rested her chin on the heel of her hand. "What about bad memories? Does anything bad come back to you in the dark?"
She assembled the flavorings in the mug and added coffee. "I have excellent recall, and my share of unpleasant memories. They come back to me, when something triggers them, or I need to remember." She set the mug down in front of the girl. "But no more often in the dark than in the day. They don't disturb my sleep."
Roxanne put her hands around the mug and stared down into it. "Anna? Are you Gen? Like Mr. Lynch? Or us?"
She shook her head. "No. Why would you think so?"
"Cuz you kind of remind me of him, the way you behave sometimes. It's a little spooky. Didn't it hurt when you stubbed that cig?"
She smiled. "I'd just got done washing dishes, and I didn't dry my hands before I went looking for the cigarette I was smelling. My palm was dripping wet."
"Oh."
"As weird as things have been for you lately, the wildest explanations must come to you for every little mystery."
Roxanne grunted.
She's looking for a more conventional explanation for my strength and speed. "It's a little early yet, but if we leave in the next ten minutes, the stores will just be opening when we get there."
The girl's eyes flicked all around the room, looking for something. "Just let me get my coffee down." She pressed her lips together, then said, "I'm down to my last three cigarettes."
Anna looked at the girl, who wouldn't meet her eye. "When did you buy them?"
"Day before yesterday. Usually a pack lasts me a week, but I've been smoking like a fiend since we left the Project. And even worse since we got here."
"What brand do you prefer?"
Roxanne looked up and met her eyes. "You'd buy my smokes?"
"I don't approve of your habit, but quitting's up to you. Three days of forced abstinence won't break you of it. I don't see any reason to make you miserable for three days."
The girl relaxed. "Well, I'm not fussy, I guess, as long as it's filtered."
"Noted. We'll go when you're ready. I'll just leave a note and my cell number while you finish your coffee. Do you want to smoke before we get in the car?"
"I'm thinking that means I won't be smoking in the car?"
"It's a shared enclosed space just like the house, sweetheart."
"Kay. I can wait." She gulped the beverage down. "Let's go." A line appeared between her eyebrows. "Where's the uniform?"
"I expect to spend most of the day out of the house. The uniform attracts attention."
"I'm not dumping on you or anything… but your clothes look like your dad picked them out."
"Too modest, you think? I wouldn't want to draw attention."
"I guess they're all right then. I can't imagine anybody giving you a second glance."
Twenty minutes later, Roxanne said in hushed tones, "I've never been in a mall like this in my life. I've never heard of any of these stores. Everything costs a fortune."
"La Jolla's rather an upscale neighborhood. To blend in, you're going to have to dress like a rich kid, and I'm told this is where the ones your age shop."
"I've been buying my clothes in discount stores and second-hand shops all my life. You want me to buy clothes like a rich kid, I'm ready."
"There's more to it than buying without looking at the price tags." She glanced at the youngsters in the corridor. "Teenagers are herd animals. They won't accept you if you're not properly attired. Any clique you join will have a dress code: things that can't be worn, things that must. Some of the rules will be difficult for an outsider to spot right away. That's why we're only picking out a couple of outfits today, to give you a chance to acclimate before you fill your closet with clothes you won't be caught dead in a week from now. Plus some swimsuits and toiletries, of course."
"Did you bring enough money?" Roxanne dug into her coat pocket. "I've still got most of the ten grand Mr. Lynch gave me."
"Roxanne, no," she said quietly, laying a hand over the girl's arm. "Didn't he warn you about showing too much cash?"
"Well, sure, when we're on the run, and we have to worry about getting ripped off."
"It wasn't about getting robbed. It was about attracting notice. Flashing your roll is more dangerous here than on the road. Only the wrong sort of people carry large amounts of cash; you'd be sure to arouse suspicion."
"Well, how do you pay for stuff?"
"When people in this neighborhood shop, they use credit cards with five-figure limits." She produced a card. "Like this one."
"Ah."
"Also, that cash was intended to be runaway money. Now that you're here, Mr. Lynch may be expecting you to return it, rather than use it for a shopping spree." She gestured towards a shop three doors down. "Kids your age are coming out of that store with purchases. Let's see what they're buying."
Twenty minutes later, Roxy had selected two outfits that satisfied her and seemed appropriate. She eyed the intimates section of the sales floor. "Um, two changes?"
Anna, standing at the register, smiled at the anxious girl. "Get everything you need. If it doesn't show, it doesn't matter."
"Bitchin." Within ten minutes, she'd picked out an armload of colored lace and nylon to add to the pile on the counter.
"Swimsuits next. Get a couple."
The girl disappeared among the racks and came back with three string bikinis. She held up a white one with extra long strings and draped it across her housekeeper. "What do you think?"
"It's very pretty." Actually, she couldn't tell why the girl had selected it from a rack full of similar items, but Roxanne had strong fashion opinions, so Anna decided to defer to her taste until she had some reason not to.
"Well? Are you going to buy it?"
"For me, you mean? Where would I wear it?"
"Around the pool."
She raised her eyebrows. "That's no maid's uniform. My agreement with Mr. Lynch specifies that I dress professionally on the premises when I'm on the clock, which, basically, is whenever you kids are up. I don't have days off; technically, I'm off call four hours a night, but I'd never refuse to answer a call, so I'm sort of on duty twenty-four-seven." She smiled. "If I'm going to jump in the pool at two A.M., I might as well skinny-dip."
"Better not. Grunge is up at all hours." The smile faded, replaced by a more penetrating gaze. "The Man in Black didn't get you with an ad in the paper."
She leveled a look at the girl. "Sweetheart, I don't want to have to lie to you, or tell you to mind your own business. There's a short list of things I'm certain Mr. Lynch doesn't want me to tell you about. How I came to be in his employ is right near the top of it." Then she reached for the brief garment. "On the other hand, you never know. Thank you, Roxanne. I'm sure I couldn't have found one I liked better. Jewelry next, I think."
"Jewelry?"
She nodded. "Of course. Every girl in this shop is wearing something on her neck or wrist or ears. You've got to blend in, right?"
They exited the clothing store and entered the corridor, bags in hand. A kiosk in the center of the corridor housed a small jewelry shop, with a number of teenagers looking over the display cases. Roxanne eyed the girls, studying their ornaments. "What are we going to get?"
Anna glanced up and down the corridor. "Earrings, for a start. Of the twenty-six girls in this hallway, all have at least one pair of earrings on. Twelve have at least two. Three have three; you'd be the fourth if you had something in each of your holes. So you need at least three pair, right?"
"I do if I don't want to lose the holes. It's been a week already."
"Lose them?"
"You know. Let them close up. I see you don't have any."
"No, never did."
"And… the navel's pierced, too. That's seven."
"Go for it, sweetheart."
The girl quickly selected three pairs of small gold circles, then stared longingly over a different pair in the case, long pendants with facets and an engraved pattern. She looked up to see Anna watching her.
"I think they'd look fabulous on you." Again, she didn't understand why the girl was attracted to one set over another that was similar in size and shape. "What's wrong?"
"They're too flashy. Back home, all my girlfriends would rave over them, but here, all they seem to wear is plain styles in precious metal." Roxanne chose a different pair, and the sales girl added them to the tray holding her other selections. "How about a watch? This one looks good. Digitals don't look popular." It was an analog timepiece with a slender gold band and two extra faces under the crystal.
"Not that one."
"Why?" Roxanne lowered her voice. "It looks just like the one the salesgirl's wearing."
"It's losing over a minute a day. That might be important someday." She picked another watch with a similar band, but with an LCD display that mimicked an analog face with hands. "This one is only a second off, and it adjusts itself periodically, just like cell phones do."
Without comment, Roxy had the salesgirl add it to the tray. Then she picked up a necklace, a fine chain with a simple silver crucifix an inch in length, and held the pendant to the hollow of her throat. "I love these. I had one I never took off, except in the shower. I woke up without it in the…" She glanced at her. "You know."
Anna nodded and picked out a similar item, slightly larger; she weighed it in her hand and deduced that it was hollow. "What about this one? Do you think it would be too showy?"
"No, it's beautiful. But it costs five times as much. That's not silver, it's platinum."
She dropped it in the tray. "I'll pay the difference if Mr. Lynch objects."
The girl's face clouded. "You're doing it again."
She raised an eyebrow.
"You're being nice to me again."
"Well, don't take it personally, Roxanne. I'm nice to everybody."
On the drive home, Anna's cell phone burred; it was Eddie. "Everybody's up. Do we draw straws to see who's next, or what?"
"Well, how about 'ladies first'? I know where the girls' shops are already."
Eddie's voice lowered. "For Kat, too?"
"Beg pardon?"
"That's a guy's track suit she's wearing. We didn't find any girl clothes that fit. She wasn't happy about it."
"Because of her height."
"Among other things."
"I see. Thanks, Eddie. We'll be home in eleven or twelve minutes. Do you want breakfast when I get home?"
"Neh. We're making do with cereal, but supplies are running low. Just so you know, Kat eats like a horse."
"Groceries right after clothes. Soon enough?"
"Better feed Kat while you're out. Seriously."
"Noted." She turned to Roxanne. "Where can I take Kat to buy clothes that fit?"
"Hm. There are 'big and tall' shops, but I don't know any names. I'd say check the phone book."
"Wouldn't Kat know?"
"Fraid not." The girl shook her head. "She's never had to shop for big clothes. She was almost our size when she came to the school, and she hasn't worn anything but school issue since she grew."
"Ah. Side effect?"
"Do you think? You ever hear of someone growing thirteen inches and packing on a hundred pounds in just six weeks?"
As they exited the car, Roxanne asked, "What time is it?"
"Ten eleven. Yellow pages or white?"
"Yellow, under 'clothing,' I guess. So, we've been gone an hour and eleven minutes?"
"An hour and twenty-one minutes. Why?"
"Just trying to figure how long it'll take you to shop with us. Looks like you'll be at it for another four hours."
"We'll see. It might take a while to find Kat a store, but I'm going to shop with both boys at once." As they passed the pool, she dipped a finger into the water. "Twenty-eight degrees warm enough, do you think?"
"Wait a minute. I thought you said shopping together would take longer."
They entered the house. "If Eddie's right, letting them shop together might accelerate the process. We'll see."
A few minutes later, she called Kat into the kitchen and showed her a listing in the phone book. "Kat, have you ever heard of this place?"
Kat's face blanked. "We used to call it 'The Tentmaker's'."
"How uncharitable. The location looks good, at least; it's back at the mall. Let's give it a try. I promise we won't come back until we've found you two changes of clothes you like, plus swimsuits."
Twenty minutes later, Anna looked at the girl's face. "It's hopeless, isn't it?"
"Sorry." Kat was clearly embarrassed, by both the difficulty she was having finding her size and the items she was trying on. "I guess I shouldn't be so fussy."
"Kat, you are not coming home in… clothes that look like your dad picked them out. We'll find a place that carries clothes for a girl your age andyour stature. At least you know your bra and panty sizes. I was worried about explaining that to the salesgirl." She walked to the sales desk. The store's only clerk was of average size and plainly didn't wear the items she sold; nevertheless, Anna leaned over the counter and said to her, "Help?"
"Not having much luck, huh? If I looked like that, I wouldn't shop for underwear here. Have you tried The Runway yet?"
"No. We're new in town. That's a store for big girls?"
"It's a store for big girls like her. But the prices'll flatten you."
"Give me the address?" She laid her hand on the counter with a twenty half under it. "And anyplace else we might want to try?"
The girl gave Anna the names of three places to shop; she tucked the bill into her pocket and said, "What gives? How come she keeps trying to squeeze into tops two sizes too small?"
Anna gave her a disgusted look. "If you ever let your boyfriend talk you into getting implants, don't let him pick them out." She got Kat back into her track suit and headed out of the mall. On the way, they passed the jewelry kiosk where Roxanne had picked out her ornaments. "Let's go in here first. You need some things."
She encouraged the girl to pick out several items and a watch; the big redhead chose a mannish timepiece with a leather band. "Looks like the one Uncle Nathan gave me when I went to college. Do you think they're okay?"
"Yes, as long as IO doesn't pick up a hint that they're in contact with you; they'll be watched, but left alone, in hopes you'll get in touch." She looked through the display case, making sure there was an identical timepiece to purchase on her next visit. She picked up a duplicate of the crucifix she'd bought Roxanne. "Roxanne would like this, don't you think?"
An hour later, at a different mall, Anna called a break. "Hon, your stomach's growling. Let's get a meal in you before we hit the last store."
"I thought we were done. I've got two outfits. And swimsuits, sort of."
"Everybody else can get all they need in a few minutes at the nearest mall; you need to mount an expedition. I'm sure Mr. Lynch won't mind putting a few more pretty things in your closet." She caught a change in Kat's breathing and she turned to look at her. Two spots of color had appeared on the girl's cheeks. "Darling, whatever's the matter? Did I say something?"
The big redhead shook her head. "I just felt like a kept woman, all of a sudden."
"Kept woman? What does that mean?"
"Old fashioned term; euphemism for a certain kind of mistress. The man takes care of her food, shelter, and clothing. Her only job is to…" She let the sentence trail off.
"Kat, I'm absolutely certain Mr. Lynch isn't looking for any such arrangement."
"I know. But why is he doing it?"
"I can't say. But I know he was determined to do it before he met any of you."
They stopped for lunch at a restaurant a corridor away from the food court. When the server took their menus, Kat said, "You're not eating?"
Anna sipped her water. "Not now. I find that if I only eat when I'm hungry, I never have to worry about gaining weight."
When the food arrived, she watched carefully but unobtrusively, noting the girl's menu choices and eating habits. Kat's table manners were impeccable, at least in public with a real dinner service in front of her. She hypothesized that her aunt and uncle had raised her carefully.
She also watched the lunch crowd, and noticed a curious behavior on the part of the male patrons. They were continually stealing glances at Kat. She was briefly alarmed, thinking they might be in danger of discovery. But no one reached for a phone or left the room abruptly; in fact, the seats around them filled more rapidly than the ones elsewhere in the restaurant. She understood that Kat was an attractive young woman; stunning, in fact, by the empirical standards of beauty she understood. But what was happening to every man in the room seemed to go beyond the effect of the girl's looks. Even men in the company of other women seemed unable to resist looking at her, causing them both distress and embarrassment; several of them left with their companions.
Too casually, Kat asked, "Anna, how well do you know Mr. Lynch?"
"About as well as anyone, I suppose. He doesn't discuss personal things very often."
"Do you know if he's got a girlfriend?"
She pretended to consider. "Well, if he does, he's not very attentive. He's been very busy this past month. I really don't think so."
"Hm." She focused on her meal again, and they were silent for a few minutes.
"Kat, have you got a boyfriend?"
The girl stopped with a fork halfway to her mouth and set it down; despite her neat conduct and the size of the meal, she was nearly done, having applied her full attention to the food. "No. Never dated either, unless you count study dates. My cousin Karen tried to talk me into doubling up a couple times, but I just never found the time. I was working towards that ninety-ninth percentile, trying to get an academic free ride, and I guess boys took too much time and energy." Certain aspects of her face and voice led Anna to conclude the girl wasn't telling the whole truth.
"Well, that pressure's off, at least for now. I feel sure that you're going to run across a great many dating opportunities. I wouldn't be surprised if strangers ask you out."
"For some reason, that doesn't brighten my day."
In the car, driving to the last store, eleven miles away, Anna said, "What did you mean, 'sort of'?"
"What?"
"You said you had swimsuits, sort of." The girl had selected her swimwear from a rack that sold tops and bottoms separately; she'd put together two outfits in solid colors.
"I'd rather have a one-piece, but I couldn't find one I could squeeze into. These fit, but there's not a lot to them."
"The ones Roxanne picked out cover less. And you don't need to wear them in public; you've got the pool. No one would see you but your friends."
"I'm not sure that makes it better." She sighed softly. "Roxy'll tell me I'm being a prude, and I should get used to it. Some ways, she's the older sister."
The last store, The Runway, turned out to offer the best selection in street clothes. Anna observed Kat's pleasure as the girl went through the racks, and experienced what she was sure was an analogous sensation, as if they were tuning forks trimmed to the same frequency, and Kat's happy vibes were bringing a smile to Anna's face. No wonder they smile so much when they're together.
"I thought I'd never be able to wear pink again." Kat held up two shirts, spreading them against her. "What do you think?"
"Very nice."
"I mean, which one?"
She studied the two garments. They had different necklines, sleeves, and hems, and were made of different materials. They were both pink, but different shades. Exposure was different, but covered approximately the same amount of skin. She had absolutely no basis of reference for choosing one over the other. "I like them both. Get both of them."
On the way home, they passed a warehouse-sized toy store. Anna pulled in.
"What are we doing here?"
"Roxanne made a request." Once in the store, she marched up to the customer service desk, with Kat following. "Do you sell teddy bears?"
The sales girl looked at her as if she was an idiot. She picked up an object from the counter between them; Anna's hand had almost been resting on it. It was identical to a row of such toys directly behind the girl, and more in a wire basket next to the desk. "Like this one?"
She shook her head. "In pink, I mean."
"Try aisle six."
"Anna, what are you doing?" Kat's face was scarlet. The sales girl looked from one of them to the other curiously.
"Kat, your little sister asked me for a pink teddy bear." She looked up into the girl's eyes. "Cut her some slack. She just moved into a new place, and she's having trouble sleeping. I don't think she's too big for one." She turned from the counter. "You know what she likes better than I do. Help me choose?"
They arrived back at the house shortly before one. Eddie was smug. "Told you." Then he saw Kat carrying a double armload of bags. "Looks like you girls found a store after all. Rox is out by the pool. Find a suit?"
"Yes. Are the boys leaving now?" Kat was clearly uneasy about displaying her new swimwear, and her new figure, for the first time in front of a male audience.
"Soon as Mister Right Stuff is done playing with his hair."
Kat left. Eddie gestured towards the sink. "Dishes in there. Mine and Bobby's, anyway. And I think Kat's are in the dishwasher."
"That's fine, thank you, Eddie." She let the corner of her mouth twitch upward. "You know, I've been thinking. That was a really clumsy pass last night."
He shook his head. "Won't happen again." He didn't appear the least bit embarrassed.
"I suppose not. Looking back on it later, it puzzled me. When you already have Roxanne, why an attempt to seduce me? Until I realized it wasn't meant to succeed." She listened to his heart and breathing, and knew she was on target. "It was your way of pushing Bobby and me together, wasn't it?"
Now the boy did seem embarrassed. "It's not that you're not a babe, Anna."
"I'm not upset in the least. I think it's sweet. I won't tell him. But why?"
"Cuz I'm kinda hoping Sarah doesn't show up, and he'll be in the market for a girl who'll treat him right."
"He's my boss's son, Eddie."
He grinned. "Fringe benefit."
She shook her head and smiled. "You're incorrigible."
Bobby made his appearance, and they set off. "Never thought I'd end up a mall rat," the older boy said.
"Do you have someplace else in mind?"
"No. This is almost like another country, Anna. Even some of the fast food places have names I don't recognize."
"We should try one," Eddie said from the back seat. He'd insisted on seating Bobby up front with her. "Maybe the joint with the stupid name, means 'House of Eat' in Spanish."
"Bro, you just ate."
"On the way back, I mean."
She smiled. "Do all teenagers eat every two or three hours?"
"Only when we can."
One of the mall's anchor stores was Mickey's, a huge sporting goods and hobby store that also sold men's clothing; the store's motto was "Anything a guy could want." Even with Roxanne's complaint in mind, Anna was surprised at how quickly the boys selected two complete outfits each, from shoes to ball caps, and how similar the styles seemed. Or maybe they're completely different, and I just can't spot it. Swim trunks took barely a minute; underwear went into the cart as fast as the boys could pluck the packages off the pegs. In less time than Roxanne had needed to choose between two pairs of panties, they were done.
Eddie looked at his new jeans critically. "Gonna need some tailoring. Got any razor blades at home, Anna?"
"If you want a tailored fit, you should buy them two sizes smaller. And I can tailor them for you without a razor blade."
"I got a different sort of tailoring in mind. I'll need bleach, too."
Bobby wasn't looking at the racks any more. She followed his gaze, and saw that his attention was held by a display of guitars high on the wall above the clothing. "Bobby, do you play?"
"Does he." Eddie grinned. "He could find a gig at one of those snooty coffee shops any night of the week. Not that he'd make any money at it; those places pay squat. But he's good."
She touched his arm. "Pick one out."
"It's not clothes. I don't need it."
"I'm sure your dad would want you to have it."
The boy's jaw set. "I don't need him showering me with gifts."
She got a better grip on his arm and tugged gently. "Then let me buy it for you. Please."
He picked out an acoustic instrument; after a talk with the salesman, Anna added a case, a stand, extra strings, and picks to the purchase. "Do you have any hobbies, Eddie?"
He gave her a look that he probably thought was unreadable; to Anna, it was clear that his hobbies were something he wasn't prepared to discuss yet. "A few. You won't find anything in here, though." Roxanne told me he collects "comic books"; I wonder what they look like, and where to get them.
The jewelry kiosk had a different salesgirl now; she decided the risk of visiting it three times in one day was minimal. "Pick out some watches. Eddie, I see your ears are pierced. See if you can find anything here to put in them, before they close up."
Again, the boys made their selections in minutes. She made a purchase as well, and Bobby eyed it critically. "That's kind of a big watch for you."
"Gift for Kat. Think she'll like it?"
On the way home, they stopped for gas at a station with a large convenience mart. Bobby insisted on pumping. Eddie got out and headed inside to buy a soft drink; he hadn't returned by the time the tank was full. Instead of paying with credit at the pump, she went inside.
Eddie was exploring the magazine rack towards the rear of the store. He lifted a magazine as she approached. "Guitar mag. For Bobby."
Several other publications were showing recent handling in infrared; all their covers displayed pictures of women exposing more flesh than customary in public. Eddie's breath grew shallow as she picked one up and thumbed through it to the last page that showed contact heat. "She's very pretty, isn't she? Doesn't it bother you that she's not decent? Is it because they're just pictures, instead of being close enough to touch?"
"Uh-"
She picked up another. "My. This girl resembles Kat, don't you think? Except Kat's rack is bigger, and she has longer legs. Are there any girls in these who look like Roxanne?"
She could hear him swallow. "Not really. None of them have her eyes."
She picked all the magazines he'd handled off the rack, including the guitar magazine, and then several more that appeared to be the same type, judging by the amount of exposed female skin on their covers. "I'm glad we found a store that caters to one of your hobbies, Eddie."
The drive home was quiet. As Anna inserted her keycard at the community gate and the arm swung up, Eddie said, "Oh, shit." Looking in the rear view mirror, she saw him slide down out of sight and heard his heart rate pick up; Bobby pulled his taco out of his mouth, said, "Cop," and held his breath.
"Not to worry, boys," she said, looking down the street at the cruiser gliding towards them. "That's our cop." She drove under the gate and waved to the car; the uniformed figure inside smiled and lifted a hand in return as the vehicle passed, exiting the community. "That's Rick, going off-shift. Marty should be here in a minute. And if I have their schedule down, Brent will taking over at midnight until eight."
"Twenty-four-seven private cops?" Bobby was shocked. "There are twenty, twenty-five houses on this street."
"Twenty- eight. The residents like things orderly."
"Guess so." Eddie was looking out at the curb. "Most of them don't even leave their cars in the driveway."
"The cars in the driveways belong to servants of one sort or another. Residents agree not to park their cars anywhere but the garage, and close the doors after. It's a common restrictive covenant in upscale neighborhoods."
"Just to keep the streets neat?"
"It's an effective security measure. Parked cars attract thieves and vandals, and provide cover for burglars and muggers and other undesirables. The gate makes it difficult to bring a car in uninvited, and the lack of other vehicles makes strange cars stand out. Petty criminals don't linger here."
Bobby was looking at the mansions behind their expensive landscaping. "What about not-so-petty criminals?"
"They build." They turned into the driveway.
Once in the house, the boys headed for their room, loaded down with purchases. Anna took her small items to her room, and then headed out to the pool. She paused at the sliding glass doors and took a few seconds to survey the scene.
Kat was swimming laps in the small below-ground pool, cleaving the water and raising waves. Every time she reached the end and reversed direction, the water slopped over the rim, wetting the surrounding pavement. Roxanne had dropped one of the big lounge chairs flat, and was lying face-down, her head pillowed on her folded arms.
The state of Roxanne's suit gave Anna reason to review her notions of 'decency,' which she defined as "suitably attired for male company." It was a slippery concept, not directly related to the coverage provided by one's clothing. It seemed to vary with the purpose of the clothing, the room you were in, even the time of day. Anna wondered how Mr. Lynch would react to the sight of her by the pool in the swimsuit Roxanne had picked out for her, which was much briefer than the bra and panties she'd worn into his bedroom.
She was fairly certain that Roxanne's present state, even poolside, was "indecent." Her two-piece suit was constructed so that you could slide the fabric around on the supporting strings, thus widely varying the coverage. She'd bunched up the back of her bikini bottom to the width of her thumb, completely exposing her buttocks, and had untied the top at her neck and back, leaving her backside essentially naked from head to toes.
She cleared her throat. "We're back. The boys will be jumping into swim trunks as soon as they unpack."
Kat paddled straight to the ladder and climbed out, heading for the towel draped over a nearby chair. Anna looked at the two girls, comparing Kat's sense of modesty to Roxanne's. Kat's suit covered more skin than Roxanne's would at full extension. On the other hand, Kat was showing more square inches of skin than Roxanne would naked; the big redhead had twice her sister's surface area. Which factor is more significant: exposure or concealment? Why?
"Come on, Kat," Roxanne said, exasperated. "It isn't like you're busting out of it or anything. All the naughty bits are covered up."
Ah. Anna reviewed the pictures of women in Eddie's comics, the ones where the girls had been partly clad and in public. Decency seemed to require, at minimum, covering the nipples and pubic hair; Shaving the pubic region allowed for briefer coverage, but still required covering the labia. Other rules concerning minimum coverage still seemed mysteriously variable.
"You said Bobby's coming out?" Roxanne sighed and reached back to spread out her suit bottom, then reached behind her to tie her top in back. Another variable. She can allow more exposure with Eddie than with Bobby. Is it because he's hot and she has plans for him? "You're not going to change, are you? Just because the guys showed up?"
"I was raised in a city where it rains three hundred days a year," Kat said, wrapping the towel around her and heading for the door. "And I spent the last six months in an underground bunker. I've had enough sunshine for a while."
"Wimp." Roxanne laid her head back down.
The girl's back was starting to show an elevated return in infrared. "Roxanne, you missed a spot with your lotion."
"Where?"
"Center of your back, just below the string. Put some on for you?"
"Thanks, yes."
She fetched the sunscreen bottle from under the chair, squeezed an ounce of oily cream into her palm, and applied it to the center of Roxy's back. The girl twitched, producing a complex pattern of ripples on the surface of her skin, and in the tiny underlying muscles as well.
"Hey! Cold!"
"Sorry." She spread the fluid over the exposed area, delighting in the feel of the girl's skin stirring against her palm. Biological construction is so complex."Looks like you've sweated most of this off. Want me to get the rest of your backside?"
Roxy tensed. "Um… Anna, are you sure you're not?"
"Not what?"
The girl turned her head; one violet eye regarded her from among the damp strands of black and purple hair. "Gay."
Analytical subroutines came online and began to draw resources. "I'm quite sure. Why do you ask?"
"If I'm wrong, don't hate me, okay? When you put the oil on and ran your hand over me, I got this weird feeling you were, you know, exploring."
"Oh. My bad. I was. You've got the most marvelous skin. But it was pure admiration. It wasn't meant to be sexual." So this is a close approximation of foreplay. Interesting.
"You like my skin? Gawd. I don't think you've even got pores."
"The offer stands. I'll slap it on like I'm painting a fence, honest. I just don't want you to get burned. You kids haven't seen the sun in a while."
"Kay." She dropped her head back down.
As she applied an even coat of sunscreen to the girl's back, she listened to a minor commotion inside the house, too faint for Roxy to hear. First came a snapping sound, followed immediately by a squeal from Kat. "Cut it out." Another snap. "Stopit." Another snap, followed by a theatrically evil laugh. Another snap. Then a growl from Kat, followed by a cry of alarm and the sound of bare feet pounding through the house. Several quick snaps, followed by a cry from Eddie. "Ow ow ow!" A giggle from Kat, and the sound of a chase leading up and down the stairs, punctuated by laughter from both parties and continued snapping noises.
"I'm still mad at you." Roxanne's voice was muffled.
"Sokay. You've got a lot to be mad about. Seems like life's been dealing your hands from the bottom of the deck up till now." She poured more oil into her hand, and spread it on the backs of the girl's legs. "And if I were you, I'd have some issues with authority too. Be as mad at me as you need to. But mind the rules."
"'Rules.' More coming, I suppose?"
"I'm sure there will be caveats and restrictions to observe when you're free to leave the house. I haven't discussed details with Mr. Lynch. But I'm also sure they won't be any harsher or more restrictive than they have to be to keep you safe. He's no control freak, and he doesn't get off ordering people around." She wiped her hands on a corner of a towel.
"Anna." The same tone of voice as before. Her analytical software fired up again. "Do you want to sleep with him?"
A wide range of possible responses opened up. There were too many unknown factors involved to narrow her choices to a single best response. She was forced to examine her own motivations and abilities, including her lack of a full understanding of what might constitute 'sleeping' with Mr. Lynch; it seemed to go beyond two people satisfying their reproductive urges. The possible responses ranged from telling the girl to mind her own business to a frank admission of her inadequacies to outright lies, and she lacked data to choose among them.
She took so long reviewing her possible answers that Roxanne noticed her hesitation, and turned on her side to face her. "Well?"
Any further delay would result in the girl drawing her own conclusions, no matter what answer she received later. Anna would have to make an intuitive decision.
She cleared her throat to gain another hundred milliseconds; no new responses appeared, nor did any drop out of her set of possibles. She selected one that seemed appropriate, although she couldn't have said why. "I can't say I haven't thought about it, from time to time. Especially that first week he brought me here. He was so caring and sweet, I'd have done anything for him. But sometimes I feel closer to him than a wife already. I don't know how sex might change that. I won't risk sleeping with him without a good reason."
The girl stared at her. "That may be the most honest thing you've said since we came here." Her eyes narrowed. "Just so you know, I never bought that wet-palm thing, so I know you lie to me, Anna. I'm just not sure why, or how much. Word up. Good intentions only take you so far. If you lie to me enough, if you cross the bullshit threshold, I'll skip. And I won't be the only one. Like you said before, we don't know who to trust."
"I'm sorry." Anna hung her head while she analyzed the girl's words and sought solutions to ease her suspicions. "I just don't know how you could possibly be ready for the whole truth."
"Well, how about a taste of this uncomfortable truth? Like you said, I'm a big girl. You were an experiment too. Weren't you?"
A course of action presented itself, one that might reduce the girl's sense of isolation and make her more trusting. But she would have to choose her path and her words carefully. Without looking up, she said, "Roxanne, if we talk about this, you can't repeat it. Not to Eddie. Not even Mr. Lynch. He doesn't know the whole story, and the little I told him made him so angry it frightened me."
Roxy leaned forward, intent. "I won't tell a soul. They locked you up too, didn't they? In the dark?"
"Yes," she said in a small voice.
"Knew it. How long? Two weeks, three?"
Her performance was culled from partial scenes from a dozen television shows and films; her statements would be absolute truth. She opened her mouth and shut it. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and let it go, while Roxy waited. "Fifteen months."
The girl stopped breathing. "You didn't say…"
"Fourteen months, twenty-nine days, actually. My imprisonment wasn't like yours, though. I was only in the dark for twelve, sixteen hours at a stretch most times. They let me out four or five times a week for experiments."
The girl's heart rate rose. "Experiments?"
"That's what they called them. Although, I could never figure out what they were learning from giving me ice water baths and electric shocks."
A tiny intake of breath from her listener, then respiration resumed, but more shallowly. Fear reaction.
"They were all men. One of them liked to put his hands on me. I didn't have any choice. There was always more than one, and one of them kept a gun pointed at me as soon as they let me out of the box. I did what they told me, and they did what they wanted." She ran her hands down her body, as if remembering. "Another one… had a sense of humor, I guess. He was the one in charge of taking me out and putting me back in when they were done with me. Each time he opened the door, he'd ask me if I was going to be a good girl today. He wouldn't let me out until I promised. As if I had the slightest choice. I'd spend the day following their instructions and trying not to think. Then back in the box, for the night, or the weekend."
"Why do you call it a box?" she could see the girl's pulse beating in her neck, in time to the thudding of her heart.
"That's what it was. A steel box, about as big inside as our fridge. I had to lift my foot and duck to get in. I couldn't stand on tiptoe without bumping my head, or stick an elbow out without touching a wall."
Roxy exhaled softly. Somehow, she made it sound like a wordless prayer.
"So you see, I don't know what it was like for you; my… experience was different. I'm sure what they did to you was just as horrible… or would have been, eventually." She let her voice grow distant. "I was blind most of the time, and the only sounds were mine. After a while, I sort of switched off. I got to where I was switching off as soon as I went back in the box, before I heard the locks click. A little later, and I would even switch off when I was out of the box, when I could. When you're awake and aware less than forty hours a week, the time goes by fast. There were times I wanted to switch off all the time."
Roxy made a gesture, as if she wanted to reach for her. But she drew her hand back and grew still as Anna continued.
"I don't know how much I've forgotten. When Mr. Lynch brought me home, he had to teach me like a child. He wouldn't let me near the stove." She displayed the hint of a smile. "He stood in the tub with his clothes on, trying to show me how to take a shower. He looked so scary, trying to explain about needing to be properly dressed in front of a man, until I realized he wasn't mad at me. And when he understood I expected to be locked up for the night, he played this little game with me on opposite sides of my bedroom door, to show me the lock was mine, to use or not, and told me I'd never be forced to spend the night behind a locked door again."
She lifted her head and looked into the girl's wide and beautiful eyes. "I'll die before I go back."
"How did they get you?"
"I don't know. As far as my memories go, my life began in that lab." She shook her head. "Sometimes I'll do something new, and it comes to me so easy I know I've done it before. And sometimes the simplest things are a mystery to me. It's no wonder you guys look at me like I'm not all there half the time. There may be gaps I'll never fill. And I know I perceive the world differently from other people. But I'm stable and functional, or Mr. Lynch wouldn't have given me this job."
She stood. "I wasn't lying when I said no amount of money could make me like you, or when I said I'd be your friend, no matter what. I'll die before I let them take you. And if I learn they've got you, I'll come for you." She spread the last traces of oil on her hands, rubbing them together and avoiding Roxy's eyes. "I hope those intentions are good enough for you to raise the bullshit threshold a little, because I want you to stay. But don't feel sorry for me, and don't think I'm done lying to you or pushing you around. This is just an interlude. I'm sure you'll find a new reason to be mad at me."
She turned towards the door, and heard Bobby's voice from the kitchen, too faint for Roxanne to hear. "Man. You better jump in the pool as soon as you get outside. You look like you stumbled into a bee's nest."
"Totally worth it. Getting her out of her towel was worth it. I was sure she'd be wearing some butt-ugly big-girl suit, you know? Like a sailor outfit with a skirt, something like that. Woo! And did you see her, bounding up and down the stairs?"
"I was afraid to look. I didn't think the suit would make it, either piece."
"Exactly! And you didn't look?"
"Bro, seeing Kat naked would be like staring into the sun."
"Heh. Dude, you're such a straight arrow."
Bobby came through the sliding door, dressed in trunks and carrying a towel; a moment later, Eddie appeared behind him, also in trunks with a towel, rubbing the small of his back.
"I'm off to the store, kids. You've got my number. Expect me home in time to start dinner." She fastened her gaze on Eddie. "Eddie, what's wrong?"
"Came out on the losing side of a towel fight. With Kat." Six huge welts marked the boy's back. "She doesn't know her strength, heh."
"Oh, my. You want salve? Aspirin?"
"Neh."
"Omigod." Kat was standing in the doorway, dressed in shorts and a shirt. "I did that? Eddie, I'm so sorry."
He grinned. "Forget it, Red. Looks lots worse than it feels. It was fun. It's nice to see you loosen up once in a while."
Kat followed her to the garage door. "You want some help?"
She eyed the girl: six and a half feet tall, red hair, starlet's figure; everyone who saw her at the market would remember her. "No. Until we learn the shape of the search IO is conducting for you, you should stay under cover as much as possible. If I were you, hon, I'd put your other suit on and go back out to the pool."
"Uh… I didn't realize at the time, but the other suit shows more. I'm not sure about it."
"Does it cover all the naughty bits?"
"Well, the straps on the top aren't much more than laces. And the bottom's Brazil cut."
"Meaning?"
"I never had a suit that left my hips bare."
Anna shook her head. "I think your sister's right. You've got nothing to worry about. The sooner you get out there, the sooner the boys will stop noticing what you're wearing. Go play in the pool, and have some fun." And perhaps Eddie deserves a little reward for "loosening you up."
Lydy's was an upscale grocery two blocks from the gate; it was patronized by all the gated communities' residents or their domestics. It was a large store, with a copious selection of exotic and imported goods, from produce with unpronounceable names to Spanish wines. Although the building was sited in a middle-class neighborhood, the neighbors seldom shopped there; Lydys' prices didn't suit five-figure incomes.
Anna was most of the way through her list, and her cart was nearly full. She cruised slowly down the aisle, pretending difficulty with the heavy load, as she planned her visit to a specialty electronics shop she'd used before. As she'd shopped with the kids, she'd made sure they'd each acquired something they'd keep with them at all times: a watch, necklace, or bracelet. She'd bought duplicates of every item in order to pull a switch. Before Mr. Lynch let the kids out of the house, she intended to bug them all with GPS locators. She wasn't about to let their lives depend on whether they remembered to leave her an itinerary and check in regularly; Genactives or not, they were teenagers.
A cart rolled up alongside hers. "Anne, dear. This isn't your day to shop." An older woman's voice.
She put on a sunny expression. "Hello, Mrs. Sylvestri." Not your usual day to shop either. She took a millisecond glance into the woman's cart: empty, even though they were meeting in the center of the sales floor. As if you entered the store, grabbed a cart, and came looking for me.
The woman was looking over Anna's cart as well, which held five times her normal purchases. Glenda Sylvestri was their next-door neighbor, one house closer to the gate. She was a long-time widow who lived with her housekeeper and a pair of Corgis, Vicious and Rotten. She was on speaking terms with everyone on the street, even the criminals, and knew a great many people in nearby private communities as well. She fancied herself the neighborhood socialite, and threw frequent dinner parties; Mr. Lynch had avoided several invitations, citing the press of business and prior commitments. She was also the neighborhood gossip clearinghouse and a tireless busybody.
Mrs. Sylvestri leaned close. "Darling, you're not very good at keeping secrets. Does Mr. Lynch know you have a boyfriend staying over while he's gone?" Before she could say a word, the woman went on. "I was walking Vicious on the beach this morning, and I glanced up towards your pool and saw him, practicing some sort of karate moves in his boxers." She let her eyelids droop as she gave Anna a sly smile and touched a tongue to her upper lip theatrically. "He looks scrumptious. But I would never have guessed he'd be your type. Opposites must attract; he looks like a very bad boy."
She let her eyebrows gather. "Mrs. Sylvestri… what did this guy look like?"
The woman's amusement changed to mild alarm at Anna's question. "A bit taller than you, I think; I can't say how much. Very muscular. Brown hair, about even with his jaw."
She showed relief. "Oh. That must be Eddie. I didn't know he did karate." She smiled again. "Mr. Lynch's son is home from school, and he invited some friends along. Two boys, two girls so far, and maybe more on the way. The house is packed for a change." She looked down at her cart. "It's why I'm shopping today. They've only been here a day, and there's nothing left to eat in the house. They're locusts."
"I didn't know John had a son."
You don't know anything about him, or you wouldn't call him John."Bobby. He's sixteen, and a heartbreaker. He was at a private boarding school, back east somewhere. It sounds like a boot camp for young geniuses. Doesn't it figure, that Mr. Lynch's son would be some kind of prodigy?"
Early in their acquaintance, Anna had developed a method for diverting the woman's inquiries without appearing secretive. She portrayed herself as innocent, trusting, and garrulous, completely open and willing to divulge information. As they strolled down the aisles side by side, the neighbor listened quietly, with a minimum of questions, as Anna rattled on, filling the woman's ears with information without revealing anything critical. "You should see how Eddie wears his clothes. He'll take a brand new pair of pants and slash them up with a razor, then wash them six times in bleach. When he's done, they look like they were passed through a jet engine."
Her phone rang: the house was calling. "Hello?"
"Hey, Anna."
"Eddie. I was just talking about you." She took a small gamble and held the phone an inch from her ear, allowing the woman to eavesdrop if she cared to. "Is everything all right?"
"Yeah. Just called to put in an order for more suntan oil."
She looked at the neighbor woman. "The course load at this school must not leave them time to lift their heads out of their books. They're all starved for sunshine." She turned back to the phone. "What happened to the full bottle we started with this morning?"
"About gone. Every time Kat jumps in the pool, she's gotta put on a coat when she comes out. Takes a quarter bottle to cover her."
"Redheads burn easily, Eddie. And you shouldn't make fun of her just because she's a big girl."
"In that case, I won't tell you how the water level drops a foot every time she jumps in and climbs out."
"Eddie. Shame on you. I should feed you Brussels sprouts for dinner."
"Be better than what we ate when we were in the cells. Later."
She closed the phone, shaking her head. "Teenage boys. Kat weighs two hundred pounds. Horribly self-conscious. We went to four stores this morning, and she couldn't find a suit that covered enough to please her. I'm glad I'm through that part of my life."
"Lord, yes. What's this about cells?"
"Their dorms have a ten o'clock curfew. Teenagers can be so dramatic." She headed for the checkout.
"Anne… do you know anyone who could cater a small party on short notice?"
She stopped. "How short?"
"Seven tonight." Two hours, sixteen minutes. The woman suddenly looked bleak. "Carmel quit without notice this morning, just walked out. I found out when I came back from the club this afternoon."
You must not talk to her much, Glenda. She's been grousing about the way you treat her for weeks, to every domestic she meets regularly in this store, including me. "Oh, my. An emergency?"
"I'm sure I don't know." Mrs. Sylvestri's mouth thinned to a line. "I don't even have time to cancel." She abandoned her empty cart as Anna reached the checkout aisle. Lydy's always had enough lanes open that its customers never had to wait in line; service was one of the store's attractions, and a justification for its prices.
Anna began loading the conveyor with her usual efficiency, putting her purchases on the belt at a speed that just matched that of the girl scanning her purchases, which allowed her to choose her items in the order she wanted them bagged without appearing unnaturally fast. "How many guests?"
"Only six, but I know I won't be able to reach them all in time."
"Did you tell your guests the menu?"
"No."
"Do they have any allergies or dietary restrictions?"
"I'm sure I don't know, dear." She looked puzzled.
"If they did, would they call the house to tell Carmel instead of you?"
"No." Comprehension dawned.
"Then we're in the clear. I'll have to pick up a few things, but I have some stuff pre-prepared in my own freezer. I'm sure I can put together a passable meal in time. I'll feed the kids at six, then pop over with the dishes and groceries and finish it up in your kitchen. Hm. I'd better put on my uniform, too; you'll need someone to serve."
"Anne, you're a lifesaver." The woman placed a hand over Anna's where it gripped the handle. "Name your price for this. I mean it."
She smiled. "Give me what you would have paid Carmel to do it. Half a day's pay."
"Don't be ridiculous. On top of taking care of a houseful of kids? I'll see you get treated better than that."
Anna mentally retraced Mrs. Sylvestri's day. She noticed the activity next door, and used her dog as an excuse to look our house over from the beach. She spotted Eddie, and probably told her lady friends about my new lover over a long lunch. She walked into her house three hours before dinner, and found her kitchen cold and her cook AWOL. Nevertheless, she wasn't too panicked to notice cars going by her house. She saw me, and got an idea. She waylaid me in the market, hoping to use what she'd seen as leverage to talk me into helping her. And when she found out about Mr. Lynch's houseguests, she was so fascinated she forgot her predicament until I was ready to leave. The woman was oblivious to the attention of the store's staff, who were pretending hard not to listen. This story will spread like a wildfire, Glenda. She wondered if the woman had ever been the subject of neighborhood gossip before, and, if not, how she would handle it. "Find out how it feels." That's the term. You're going to find out how it feels.
As a bag boy headed out into the lot with her cart and her keys, searching for her minivan among the Beamers and Lexuses, she said in a low voice, "There is something you could do for me. If you're willing."
The woman's voice matched hers. "Name it."
"You seem like a person who doesn't let much slip by her. You always know what's going on in the neighborhood, and you know absolutely everybody. I feel responsible for these kids while they're here, and I don't know what sort of trouble they might attract. If you notice anything odd, will you let me know? I wouldn't ask you to turn into a gossip or anything; just let me know if there's any unusual interest in the house or the neighborhood." She looked up at her, entreaty in her eyes. "Mr. Lynch wouldn't be happy if they get into trouble while he's gone."
The woman's mouth twitched. "Don't worry, dear. I'll keep a close eye. He won't have any reason to be angry with you."
She smiled up at the neighbor. "Great. Just one thing more. Mrs. Sylvestri, if I'm using your kitchen, it's mine. No trespassers."
Glenda smiled. "Not to worry, I've hired temperamental cooks before. I'll see you soon. And thanks again, ma cherie.Au'voir."
"D'accord, Mrs. Sylvestri. A bientot."
She stopped. "You speak French, Miss Devereaux?"
"Oh. No. Just a couple phrases I picked up. See you at six-thirty." Never hurts to throw out a false lead now and again.
Bobby met her car in the garage, and insisted on helping her with the bags. "Anna, is it too late to bill my father for that guitar? I'm sure he could afford it better than you."
She piled groceries onto the counter, and headed back to the garage. "Humph. Are you throwing my gift in my face, Bobby?"
"No. It's just, you were going to put it on his account in the first place, but I was stupid about it."
"I'm sure it won't be your last opportunity to accept a gift from your father. The guitar was my gift, and my pleasure." They pulled the second and last load from the car and headed back to the kitchen. "If you feel obligated, play it for me."
"Uh, it's not tuned yet. How about later?" He helped her unpack. "I used to cook at home. My last home, that is. You need any help?"
"Yes. Go tune your guitar. I need to hear you playing by tonight."
III
"Anne, that was wonderful." Darkness had fallen before the party wound down and the guests departed. Glenda watched Anna load her dishes back into her minivan by the light over the side door. "I can't believe you pulled all this out of your freezer, but I can't believe you had time to make it, either. Everyone raved about the chicken."
"Well, the soup stock and sauces came from my freezer. The chicken I started while I was cooking for the kids. Everything else, I did right in your kitchen. Mind, I was still working on dessert while I was serving the soup, but I think it all turned out okay."
"Lord, yes. If you feed John like this, I don't see how he stays so slender."
She smiled. "He's gone so much, I don't get to put many meals in him. So I have to make each one count."
"Dear, you're a treasure. The man simply doesn't know how lucky he is. If you ever feel like changing employers… for any reason… I'll pay you twice what John does."
I doubt it. I happen to know you paid Carmel less than a quarter of what Mr. Lynch pays me. "Thanks, but I like my job. And I'm fond of Mr. Lynch. He's a great boss. You never have to guess what he expects from you."
The sly look was back in Glenda Sylvestri's eyes. "Yes. I don't doubt it. Is he coming home while the kids are here?"
"Sure. He doesn't see much of Bobby. But he had some emergency that needed immediate attention. I'm expecting him back in a day or two."
"I can see where it might be… awkward, sharing a roof with John and all those kids at the same time."
Perhaps if I was sleeping with him, which appears to be what you're hinting at. Which is another reason why you'll never know what he pays me."Not at all. The kids are used to doubling up in dorms. We've got enough beds, barely. If we get another boy and girl, I'll have to double up with her, is all. No problem." She closed the hatch. "Time to see what's left of my house. Good night, Mrs. Sylvestri."
She started the car for the hundred–fifty-meter journey: fifty down Glenda's driveway to the street, fifty to her driveway, and fifty into the garage, just on the other side of the hedge. She was well pleased with how dinner had turned out, and not just because she'd made a couple hundred dollars that hadn't come from Mr. Lynch's pocket, or because she'd added another layer of security to their perimeter. One of the guests had been a local bureaucrat; while she'd served and carved, he'd spoken about how the Department of Homeland Security had just raised the public alert level a notch, to Orange. "Not that anyone's likely to notice. It's all very low-key, so as not to frighten anyone or scare these guys off."
"What's it all about? Al-Qaeda?"
"One of our security agencies claims to have evidence of some new terrorist group. If it's right, these nuts have small cells all over the country, some lying low, some on the move, waiting for something. Security at transport hubs is tightening up, airports and train and bus stations that is, and the Interstates are going to have extra police presence for a while. Speed traps, seat belt and sobriety checkpoints, that sort of thing."
She thought of Bobby's girl. I hope she comes back with Mr. Lynch. Hitchhiking sounds riskier than ever.
As she entered the house with her crockery, she heard the sound of guitar strings being plucked experimentally; Bobby was still tuning up in his room, apparently. She listened for sounds from the other kids, and heard the girls in the living room, talking low over the television. She set the dishes on the counter and went looking for her charges.
Kat and Roxy were on the couch together, watching a movie. She came up behind them. "What are you watching?"
Kat turned her head slightly. "Return to Me. It's almost over. The boys were doing their own thing, so we were feeling like a chick flick."
"Chick flick. Sure." She looked over the couch at the figures on the screen. "Which one is Chick?"
Roxanne avoided Kat's attempt to make eye contact, and turned towards her. "A chick flick is a movie girls watch over and over again, and puts guys to sleep the first time they see it."
"Gotcha." That leaves only Eddie unaccounted for. "Anybody hungry? I can put something together as soon as I change out of my uniform."
Kat hoisted a huge bowl of popcorn into view. "No, thanks. We're good."
Roxanne picked a kernel out of the bowl and flung it at the screen. "Belushi's such a turd in this one." Kat glanced at her sister, but said nothing until Anna left the room. The housekeeper listened from the kitchen as she put her dishes away.
"Whatever this deal is between you, I think you're pushing it."
"If you think so, ask her. I'm just letting her know I haven't forgotten."
From the cupboard, she fetched a small item she'd bought at the grocery. She entered the girls' room as she heard the DVD player go off. She plugged it into the wall by Roxanne's bed and picked the girl's damp swimsuit off the floor.
As she stepped into the hall, Bobby strummed a tune, singing softly. From the timbre and range of his speaking voice, she'd expected him to be a talented singer. But the range and resonance of his sixteen-year-old singing voice surprised her.
I never dreamed there'd be love
In a woman like you.
They said you were nothing but trouble, the stories were true.
You pull me so close, then you push me away.
I don't know if I matter at all.
Then with one little look or a word you change all the rules.
Oh, whyyyyyyyyyyyyy'd I fall in love
Oh, whyyyyyyyyyyyyy'd I fall in love
With you?
I never dared to imagine
A lover like you.
One moment familiar, the next you're totally new.
We cannot agree on the simplest things.
I don't know if I know you at all
How can I love you and hate the things that you do?
Oh, howwwwwwwww'd I fall in love
Oh, howwwwwwwww'd I fall in love
With you?
"Dude, trying to read here."
The guitar strummed gently. "You're staring at pictures of shameless women. I'm surprised you're holding that rag with both hands. Which reminds me. You do remember we're sharing the bathroom with three girls, right?"
"I think about it every time I step in the shower. Oh, where that washcloth has been."
"Perv. Keep it neat. I don't want one of them finding something disgusting and blaming me."
"I'm a perv? I'm not the one singing songs he lifted from some chick band. It's not natural for a guy to hit notes like that and not sound like a dog howling."
"I wrote that song."
"Dude. I'm afraid to ask what you call it."
More plucking, as the boy tightened a string slightly; her hearing determined that the tuning was now perfect. "Don't worry, there's no girl's name in the title. It's just a song. Chicks love it."
"Pathetic. You really one of those losers thinks he can loosen up a girl's thighs with a frickin serenade? Why don't you ever play something a guy can get off on, like Nirvana?"
"Unplugged? That would insult the instrument and the music."
She knocked on the door. "Guys, I'm headed for the shower. Will you want anything after I come out?"
The door opened; Eddie stood in the doorway, with Bobby sitting up in bed, his guitar on his lap. "Neh. I think we're about done in. All that fun in the sun, y'know?"
"Okay." She looked at Bobby. "I heard, from the kitchen. Thank you, Bobby. I've never heard a man sing so beautifully. I think it loosened my thighs." They were just as firmly connected as ever, of course, but the idiom seemed to be a compliment.
As she headed down the hall, she heard Bobby's voice from behind the closed door. "Don't say a word."
"Heh. Heh. And she called you a man."
"I mean it, Eddie."
"You should move in with her tonight, while you don't have much stuff. Save time. Then I'll have my own room, for entertaining."
"This song has six more verses. If you don't shut up right now, you're gonna hear every one of them, swear to God."
She dropped the suit down the laundry chute, visited her room for a change of clothing, and headed for the bathroom. Just before she entered the shower, she heard Roxanne's voice from the girls' room, soft and wondering. "I don't frickin' believe it. A night light."
By the time she emerged from the shower and dressed, the kids were all in bed. She saw that the living room floor between the TV and the couch was littered with popcorn kernels; the forty-inch flatscreen was dotted with grease marks where they'd bounced off. With no one else to see, she worked at accelerated speed, as she'd done in Mrs. Sylvestri's kitchen; the mess was picked up and wiped clean in seconds.
A little later, while she was baking bread and preparing the next day's meals, the phone burred. She picked it up before the end of the first ring. She recognized the caller without checking the ID, before he spoke, just from his breathing. "Here, sir. We're private."
"Is Sarah there?"
"No. Did you see her?"
"She was already gone when I got here, one step ahead of IO. People are watching her parents' house, and her grandmother's. There are tails on her family whenever they leave home. If one of them lets slip that she's been here…" He exhaled heavily. "At least she didn't hang around. The people here are clannish. And the tribal elders have spread the word. No one will talk to a stranger about her, and there aren't many whites living here, so extended surveillance is almost impossible. Without evidence she's been here, they'll pull back soon. I'm just going to hang around for another day, to make sure that her hunters don't do something desperate."
Like kidnapping one of her family, to force her out of hiding. "Would that work?"
"I think so. But they won't risk it unless they're sure she's in contact. I'm not one hundred percent certain she's headed for the house, but if she comes there, try to find out if she's set up some way to keep in touch. If she's established a connection, I'll have to sever it. For all our sakes."
"I just heard tonight that the government is tightening security on travel. Including highways."
"It's out of our hands, Anna. If they pick her up, I have people who'll tell me. Be ready to move fast, with the kids."
"We're all staying close to the house until you get back. I can have them in the car and rolling out of here in two minutes."
"Good. Any more challenges to your authority?"
"Does fending off a pass count?"
A pause. "Eddie."
"His heart wasn't in it, really. He just thought it was expected of him."
"Humph. Anything else?"
"The kids still have the money you gave them. I told them I'd ask what you want to do with it."
"Petty cash. Let them keep it. I'm sure they need things."
"I strongly advise against that, sir. Forty thousand dollars, or even ten thousand, is not petty cash to them. Take it back, and give them allowances, small ones."
"Why?"
"I don't think any of them have experience handling large sums of cash. And kids their age seldom come by such money honestly. I think they'll attract unwanted attention with it. They do need things. Be as generous with gifts as you like. But keep them short on pocket money, at least for now." And if you're going to gift them, you'll have to know them better, and be more engaged, than if you just throw money at them. It isn't enough that I'm learning to be a surrogate mother; you have to learn to be a dad.
"It sounds like they're keeping you busy, Anna. Don't sugar-coat it. How are you handling it?"
She blinked, and took as large a breath as her undersized "lungs" would allow.
"The demands they place on my time and resources exceed all my calculations. They want to be fed every two hours. Dirt flies up off the ground and sticks to them until they reach the carpet. Two of them act as if they never learned to clean up after themselves. I'm baking, cooking, and cleaning for hours every day."
She drew another breath. "My human-analog routines are being tested to their limit and beyond. They draw an enormous amount of computing power every time I'm in a conversation, and I still can't talk to one of them for more than five minutes without them looking at me as if I've lost my mind. They're precocious and inquisitive, and they pop up at my elbow at the most inopportune times. They've already noticed things about me that I didn't hide well enough. I'm certain that my disguise won't last a week. My predictive software is nearly useless; I'm working from insufficient data, improvising all the time, and I can only wait and see if I've done the right thing."
Another breath. "Having them here is completely rearranging my life. My very existence is starting to turn around their wants and needs. They need a million things, and they have a million questions, and they come to me for everything." She finally ran down.
She heard him exhale. "Whoa. Guess I didn't realize how big the job would be. I'm sorry I got you into this, Anna. But we really don't have much choice, now. Maybe I can arrange some help for you," he said doubtfully.
"Oh, you misunderstand me completely, sir." Something made her smile into the phone. "I'm having the time of my life." She lowered her voice. "Thank you for giving them to me."
III
Two hours before dawn, Anna was in the basement, folding laundry while the dryer completed its last load, and listening to stealthy sounds from the bedrooms above her.
"Dude, I can't believe we're getting up for a meeting. The birds aren't even up yet." Eddie's voice was low, conspiratorial.
"I hear the dryer running downstairs," Roxanne said. "Jesus. Doesn't she ever sleep?"
"We need to make sure she can't hear us," Kat said. "Eddie, go downstairs and find out. Also, see how long she's going to be down there."
"Why me?"
"Because she already knows you're up at all hours. I'll turn on the TV. If you can hear it, tell her you're watching it until you fall asleep."
The dryer buzzed. She unloaded it onto the folding table, turning her back on the stairs as she heard Eddie's soft tread on the steps. She hummed a tune as she snapped sheets and folded them.
"Anna."
She jumped. "Eddie!You have got to stop doing that. Why are you up at three forty-three in the morning?"
"Just woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."
"Do you want me to fix you something? I'll be done here in twelve minutes."
"No. I just came down to see what the noise was." He cocked his head. "Do you hear something?"
She pretended to listen. In addition to the TV, she heard the sound of footsteps on carpet and couch cushions being compressed. "No. Do you?"
He shook his head. "Thought I did, but no. Think I'll watch the tube a while, and go back to bed. G'nite."
"Sweet dreams, Eddie."
A few moments later, she heard him join the others in the living room. "You can't hear anything down there, but I closed the door at the top of the stairs anyway. She won't be coming up for ten minutes."
"All right then." Kat turned businesslike. "Some things have been brought up concerning Anna, things that aren't adding up. We need to put our heads together about it, see if it changes our situation here."
"Oh, cripes, Rox, give it a rest. She's not crazy for keeping your butts out of the house. I don't like smelling them either."
"She didn't call this meeting," Bobby said. "I did."
"O-kay. Can you at least explain why we didn't have it last night, when she was out of the house for four freakin hours?"
"Cuz I didn't decide we needed it until she poked her head in our room last night."
"Heh. Which reminds me. She's singing your song down there."
A heartbeat of silence, then Bobby said, "I'd like to save my observations for last. What else have we noticed? Kat?"
"More of the same, I guess. There are some weird gaps in her knowledge of commonplace things, like slang terms. It's as if she spent her life in a fallout shelter."
"Eddie? Anything?"
Eddie said quietly, "She thinks Hustler's a comic book."
Roxanne snorted. Eddie said, "I mean it. Somebody must have told her I'm a collector. Yesterday, she gives me a stack of skin mags as thick as a phone book, and says they're for my comics collection. And get this: in the pile, there was a copy of Cosmo and an issue of Women's Health. See a connection?" When no one answered, he went on. "Cosmo always has some busty bimbo on the cover busting out of her shirt, or some such. Women's Health always shows some gym rat in an outfit that bares her six-pack. She looked at all the covers and saw chicks showing skin, and couldn't tell the difference. Is that weird, or what?"
"Okay, sis. You're the one who got us started noticing things. Anything new?"
A pause, then Eddie's voice. "Come on, Rox. I can tell you're thinking of something."
If you tell them, Roxanne, it won't be the end of the world, but I'm going to be disappointed.
"She has a clock in her head. I know, most people can guess the time, and get close with practice. I'm talking about atomic clock accurate. She doesn't wear a watch, and there aren't many clocks in this house, and I never see her look at one anyway. But if you ask her the time, she can always tell you, exactly. If you ask her how long it takes to do something or drive somewhere, she tells you to the minute, and she's always right. When we were in the store, she looked at a watch for one frickin second and knew it was running slow, a minute a day. I couldn't do that if I had an hour." She drew a breath. "The same time she did that, she looked up and down the corridor in the mall, maybe two seconds, and told me how many girls were wearing earrings, and how many for each."
"Idiot savant," Eddie suggested. "Like Rain Man."
"How could she look at a girl two hundred feet down the hall and tell how many holes she's got in her ears, Grunge? One more thing. On the way back into the house, she checked the pool temp without using the thermometer. Just dipped her finger in and said it was twenty-eight. I checked later, and she was dead on." A pause. "That's it."
"She gave it in Celsius? Where's she from, you think? Who uses metric in this country? Besides soda bottlers."
"Scientists," Caitlin said. "Medical personnel. Soldiers. Sis…"
"Bobby? What about you?" Roxanne said quickly.
"I've seen her misuse slang too, like she's heard it but doesn't really understand it. She poked her head in my room last night and said my playing loosened her thighs."
Another snort from Roxanne. "Bobby."
"She said it like she was talking about the weather. You knew she didn't understand what she was saying. But that's not the big thing. Since we got here, we haven't slept all that well, and we've been keeping strange hours. Somebody's up almost any time. Has anybody caught Anna sleeping in her room, or sacked out on the couch at three AM? It's like you said, Rox: she never sleeps. And that's not all. Since we've been here, she's cooked enough food for an army. Has anybody seen her eat? Even a sample taste while she's cooking?"
"I can't say I've noticed," Roxanne said thoughtfully. "She sure never eats with us."
"Not even at a restaurant she took me to," Kat agreed. "She sipped water and watched the crowd. She said she only eats when she's hungry. Any conclusions?"
"Even Gens got to eat." A patting sound. "And she must eat sometime, cuz she sure knows how to cook. Everything she sets on the table looks like a picture in a magazine. But I think Rox is right. She's a lab rat, something different. I think somebody should talk to her. She wants us to trust her, maybe she should play straight with us." A pause. "One of us, anyway."
"Well, don't look at me."
"Rox, you're the last person we'd send. Why would she talk to you? Send Bobby. She's crushing on him, I think. Like I said, she's singing his song down there."
"Bobby?"
"Yeah. But not now. I don't want her to think I'm doing it cuz we had a meeting and I drew the short straw. Let's break this up, and I'll do it first thing in the morning."