stroll around the neighborhood.
One by one, the others awoke, and Barry, who'd been sitting silently in the living room, stood, went upstairs, and busied himself in the kitchen making coffee. Maureen came up first, then Jeremy, then Lupe.
All of them asked about Chuck and Danna, and Barry shrugged off the questions, saying that he didn't know where they were, they'd been gone when he awoke, but that they were probably just taking a morning walk to clear their heads after yesterday's drama.
'Oh yeah,' Maureen said sarcastically. 'They're probably out looking for Dylan.'
He did not bother to respond.
They ate breakfast in silence, the only noise in the house the false cheer of a morning news show on TV and the chomping of cereal.
'Who are we fooling?' Jeremy said, setting down his spoon. 'How long are we going to pretend that they're coming back?'
'We don't know that they're not,' Barry stressed. 'We can't just go jumping to conclusions.'
'After Dylan, it's not such a big jump,' Maureen told him.
'They wouldn't just go without telling us,' Jeremy insisted.
'Something's happened to them.'
Lupe stood, looked over the railing into the living room. 'Their luggage is gone,' she pointed out.
Barry moved next to her. She was right. Chuck's overnight bag was missing and Danna's two small suitcases were nowhere to be seen. How could he have missed something so obvious?
'Then I guess they took off,' Barry said without conviction, 'headed home.'
'How could they leave without their car? And why would they? If they wanted to leave, they would've told us, and we all would've driven out together. They wouldn't... what? Hike back to California? Call a cab?'
He looked over the railing at the untouched sofa bed.
First Dylan.
Now Chuck and Danna.
They were picking off his friends one by one.
'Maybe we should get out of here,' Lupe suggested.
Barry nodded in agreement, though he felt torn up inside. Three days.
It had only taken three days for Bonita Vista to break down and decimate his best and strongest line of defense.
Still, there remained a core of iron within him, a resolute unwillingness to concede defeat that, if anything, was growing stronger. He was reminded of the tag line for a movie: This time it's personal.
But it had always been personal. He thought of their cat Barney, thought of the murder of the man who had harassed Maureen, thought of Ray. His opposition to the homeowners'
association had never been anything but personal.
Jeremy shook his head. 'I'm not leaving until we find out what happened to them. If I have to stay here a fucking year, I will, but there's no way I'm going to abandon my friends.'
'Let's head out,' Barry said, 'take a look around Bonita Vista, see if we can find something.'
Jeremy nodded grimly. 'We'll start with the president's house.'
'Do you want to go with them?' Maureen asked Lupe. The other woman looked over at her husband, then shook her head and started digging into her cereal. 'I'll stay with her,' Maureen told Barry.
He nodded, came back to the table to quickly finish off his coffee, then went down to the bedroom and put on his shoes. Jeremy was ready to go by the time he came up to the living room, and Barry unlocked, unbolted, and opened the front door.
And saw a pink sheet of paper affixed to the outside of the screen.
Jeremy pushed open the screen door, reached around the metal frame, and grabbed the paper.
'It's a form,' he said, and his voice was flat. 'Or your 'recipient's copy' of a form. A Regulation Compliance form, to be exact. And there's a 'Violation' box checked. 'Unauthorized Presence of Minority.''
'Shit,' Barry said. He thought of the sealed letter they'd found in the closet that first week.
They're doing it. They're keeping track of it. Don't think they aren 't.
They'd been talking quietly, but the quiet must have carried its own weight because he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see Maureen and Lupe standing on the edge of the stairs gazing down on them, both of their faces registering the same expression.
Jeremy looked up at his wife, reading aloud. ' 'Hispanic female and husband staying at residence. If violation continues, offending couple will be removed.''
'Removed,' Barry repeated.
'What do you think they mean by that?'
Barry looked at him. 'What do you think?'
'My God,' Lupe said, and her voice was shaking. He thought she was about to cry, but when he looked up at her he saw lines of anger hardening her face. It was rage that was making her voice quiver, not fear. 'Someone has to teach those racists a lesson.'
'I have the will and the way,' Jeremy said. He looked at Barry, the form crumpled in his fist. He dropped the paper on the floor. 'Let's go. Let's pay a little visit to Mr. Jasper Calhoun.'
Calhoun's house looked even more fortresslike than it had before, its intimidating size and dark gray walls contrasting sharply with a green expanse of sloping lawn--an artificial imposition on the natural landscape that the C, C, and Rs should have prohibited. As before, a cold breeze blew here, ruffling his hair, and if he had not known that it was impossible, he'd have sworn it originated from the windowless residence.
They stood for a moment on the road.
'God, that's a monstrous house,' Jeremy said.
'In more ways than one.'
'That, too. But I'm just shocked it's so big. If I recall correctly, there are size limitations on structures in Bonita Vista. Although maybe this thing was grandfathered in.'
'Mike Stewart said that Calhoun lives alone. He has no family.'
'Why does he need all that space, then? What could he possibly use it for?'
Barry didn't answer. It was a question he didn't want to think about.
They walked down the perfectly maintained path past an apple tree, past a plum tree, past a birdbath. The silver Lexus was not in the carport, so there was a good chance the president wasn't home, but they continued on anyway, | up the wooden steps of the wraparound porch to the door.: Jeremy rang the bell, and a muffled gong sounded from I somewhere deep in the house.
Barry turned his head slowly, looking around. The yard was silent, empty.
Jeremy rang the bell again, but after another minute it seemed obvious that no one was home.
The slits to either side of the door were narrow windows, and Barry cupped his hands to shield the glare, pressing his face against the one on the right, but the smoked glass was so dark he could barely see the outline of the closed mini blinds inside.
What did Calhoun need all that space for?
They walked back up the path to the street, and Barry sensed the weight of the house behind him. It felt as though he was being watched, as though the house were some sort of giant sentient creature all hunkered down and waiting to pounce, and he had to fight the urge to run back up the lawn to the street.
He did not notice until they reached the pavement that neither of them had spoken since stepping onto Calhoun's property, and he wondered if Jeremy had been as anxious as he himself had been. He felt better now that they'd reached the street, but he was sweating, as though he'd just had a particularly close encounter with some sort of predator.
They started walking back toward Barry's. Jeremy was the first to speak. 'You know me,' he said. 'I'm not one of these touchy-feely guys. But I'm telling you that place gave me the creeps.'
Barry nodded.
'You think they could be in there? Dylan? Chuck and Danna?'
'I don't think they are,' Barry said, and he found that it was true.
