bottom of the stairs, Perry Lang asked her about his father.
She went white and looked at me, but I did not help her with the decision. She had to do what she thought she could do. After a while, she took Perry into the living room, sat him on the couch, and told him that his father was dead.
They sat together a very long time. Perry cried, then grew quiet, then cried again until he fell asleep in her lap. At ten minutes before eight, she said, “We can go now,” and stood up with her nine-year-old son cradled in her arms like a baby.
We put him, groggy and whimpering, into the back of the Cherokee, then took the long drive to Encino. Coming down off the mountain into the valley, the lights were like brilliant crystal jewels in the rain-washed air. Better than that. It was as if the stars had fallen from the sky and lay stewn along the desert.
“I can do this,” she said.
“Yep.”
“I can pull us together, and keep us together, and go back to school maybe, and go forward.”
“Never any doubt.”
She looked at me. “I won’t back up.”
I nodded.
“Not ever,” she said.
I exited the freeway and rolled down the cool silent Encino streets to Janet Simon’s house. It was brightly lit, inside and out. The older daughter, Cindy, passed by the front window as we pulled into the drive. “Would you like me to be there when you tell them?” I said.
She sat silently, chewing her lip, staring at the house. “No. If I need help there, let it come from Perry.”
I nodded. A car passed, washing her with light and revealing something ageless in her face. A sort of maturity and life that hadn’t been there before, and that you never see in most people. The look of someone who has assumed responsibility.
We got out. I liked it that she didn’t expect me to open the door for her.
“You didn’t throw away your life with Mort,” I said.
She stared up at me.
“Mort wasn’t kidnapped and Mort wasn’t dealing with these people. Duran’s goons took the boy and Mort went after them. That’s where the . 32 was. Maybe Mort wasn’t there for you anymore, but he tried to be there for Perry. He died trying to save his boy.”
Her eyes looked deep in the night. “How do you know?”
“Poitras ran a paraffin test. The test says Mort fired a gun. He wouldn’t have had to do any shooting unless he was trying to get his son back.”
She took a very deep breath, let it out, and stared down the street. Then she nodded, raised up on her toes, and kissed me. “Thank you.”
The front door opened and Janet Simon appeared in the light. We didn’t move toward her and she didn’t move out toward us.
“There’s more to bring away from this than firing a pistol,” I said.
“I know.”
“You’re different now.”
She looked at Janet Simon. “They’ll have to get used to that, won’t they?”
I helped her lift Perry out. His face was puffy and pale and he clung to her even in sleep. She said, “Would you like to come in?”
I shook my head. “Not if you don’t need me. If you need me, I’ll stay. If you don’t, I’ll go sit with Joe.”
She smiled and told me she’d come see Joe tomorrow, then she kissed my cheek once more and walked up to the house. Janet Simon stepped aside to let them in, then shut the door.
Perhaps Janet hadn’t seen me.
I stood there, breathing deep, and looked at Pike’s Jeep. Even in the dark, I could see it was a mess, muddy and streaked and dusty. I found a self-wash on Ventura Boulevard that was still open, and worked there until the Cherokee sparkled. Then I rolled down the windows and drove slowly in the cool fresh air, drove back to the hospital to wait for Joe Pike.
