60
When the Explorer pulls into the parking lot of The Institute of Self Awareness, the driver rolls down the window and Teddy, now in the front passenger seat, leans across and waves to the guard.
“Good evening, Dr. Cole,” the guard says, giving a slight stink eye to the car full of guys who don't look like they're seeking any kind of awareness, self or otherwise.
“I'm just going in to check on a client,” Teddy says, feeling Dan's pistol jammed into the back of the seat against his spine.
“Should I call ahead?” the guard asks.
“No,” Dan murmurs.
“No,” Teddy says.
The gate swings open, the Explorer goes through, and the gate swings shut behind it. Teddy directs the driver to a small parking lot.
“Now take us to where she is,” Dan says. “And, Doc, if you mess with me, I'm going to put one in your spine.”
Teddy leads them along the curving walkways lit by the little solar-powered lamps. Most of the guests are in their cottages, but a few are out taking a stroll around the grounds. One in particular, a tall redheaded woman in a white terry-cloth robe, attracts Dan's attention.
“Hey, is that…” Dan says, then names a famous movie actress.
“Could be,” Teddy says.
“What's she getting, a boob job?”
“Nose,” Teddy says. She wanted her nose shaved down. A tuck around the eyes. A little something to hold off the day when she has to play the bitch mother or the eccentric aunt. But Teddy's mind isn't really on that. He's thinking about some way that he can tip Tammy off, get her out of there before… He doesn't even want to think about what happens after the “before.”
As they approach Tammy's cottage, he can see lights on through the curtain of the front window.
“You got a key?” Dan asks him.
“Well, it's a card.”
“What the fuck ever,” Dan says. “You let yourself in, you leave the door open behind you. Got it, Doc?”
“Yeah.”
“Doc?”
“What?”
“If you're thinking about trying to be a hero,” Dan says, “stop thinking. You may be boss hog in the operating room, but this ain't your world, hoss. It will just get you in the wheelchair basketball league. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Open the door.”
Teddy walks up to the Lotus Cottage. It's always been one of his favorites, redolent with memories. Teddy has put some serious talent in the Lotus Cottage and has gotten some head in there that you wouldn't believe. Hand shaking, he fumbles with the card and eventually manages to insert it into the lock. The little green light comes on, followed by the soft click of the lock opening. Teddy gently pushes the door open a crack and says, “Tammy? It's me.”
Dan shoves him out of the way and steps into the cottage.
The living room is all done in white. Bone white walls, with black-and-white photographs of lotuses in silver frames and a flat-screen plasma television set. A white sofa, white chairs. The wood floor is painted black, but the carpet's white.
Tammy isn't in the living room.
Dan moves toward the closed bedroom door. He nudges it open with the toe of his boot and then steps through, pistol up and ready to shoot.
She's not in the bedroom, which is similarly decorated. White walls, black-and-white photos, white bedspread on the double bed, and a flat-screen television, smaller than the one in the living room. The guests must watch a fuck of a lot of TV while they're self-actualizing, Dan thinks as he moves to the bathroom door and listens.
The shower is running.
One of them fancy new “rain showers” by the sound of it.
He leans into the bathroom door.
It's locked.
Women always lock the door when they're taking a shower, Dan thinks. He blames it on Psycho.
Dan leans back and launches a kick into the door. The jamb splinters with a crash. Dan steps into the bathroom and points the gun to his left, toward the shower.
But she ain't in it.
And the window is open.
61
A steep set of stairs runs down to the beach from the back of Shrink's.
It cuts through a berm of red clay planted with succulent ankle-high ground cover that blossoms red in the spring but now looks silver and glossy under motion-activated lamps set in the ground every twenty feet.
Dan negotiates the stairs with surprising grace for a big man. He holds the pistol in one hand; the other glides along the pipe railing as he calls, “Tammy? I just want to talk with you, baby!”
If she's out there, she doesn't answer.
The night fog is coming in fast, already obscuring the water and the beach. Dan pauses on a landing and listens.
“Tammy!” Dan yells. “There's nothing to be afraid of! We can work this out, girl!”
He waits for an answer, the pistol poised to shoot in the direction of a voice. No response comes, but then he hears footsteps, running down the stairs below him.
Dan chases her down the stairs.
Onto the beach, into the fog.
62
Boone and Petra run down the stairs at Sea Cliff Park, just south of Shrink's, Boone trying to hear Tammy as she whispers into her phone, “He's coming. I can hear him.”
“Keep coming this way,” Boone says. “We're almost there.”
He makes it down to the beach and looks north, the direction Tammy should be coming from. But it's tough to see anything-the fog has moved in and set up housekeeping for the night, and the moon hasn't thought about getting up yet.
“Tammy?” Boone says. “Can you see me?”
“No.”
Boone peers into the fog.
Then he sees her.
Dressed only in a white robe, she looks like a ghost. Or maybe an escapee from a mental hospital, her long red hair disheveled and wild in the moist night air. She's running, as much as she can run in the heavy sand, her long legs working against her, struggling for balance. She's not even sure what she's running toward, just a voice on the other end of a telephone, saying he was going to help her. At first, she didn't believe him, but there was
