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The rain began again an hour later, with that slow steadiness and determination that makes the natives of the Pacific coast check their supplies of candles and firewood. A good night to be in bed, thought Kate. I wonder if I'm forever doomed to drive into rain as I approach this place.
There were no cars at the creekside park, and the group of vehicles perched near Tyler's Barn had thinned considerably. Two more cars skulked away as she drove up and pulled into the fenced compound. Trujillo's men were busy with the Jaguar and a couple of others, and the corrugated metal roof of the great shed rang with the heavy drops. Trujillo looked up at her approaching headlights, waved in recognition, and then put his head back inside the car. Even in the dim afternoon light his gray suit no longer seemed fresh. She laced on the old running shoes she always carried in the car, zipped on a hooded rain parka, and set off down the main road, ignoring the amazed looks of the two uniforms, and dodging the unenthusiastic reporters with ease.
The man keeping guard beneath the Tyler's Road sign rolled down the window of his marked cruiser.
'Inspector Hawkin was just asking if you'd shown up yet. He's still up there.' He looked across the metal gate at the gradually disappearing dirt road.
'Maybe you should call back and tell him I'm on my way up. I should be there in forty minutes or so.'
'He said to tell you that if it was raining you didn't have to do it.'
'No, I'd better, just to finish it. The surface won't be too wet.' But
The surface was actually better than it had been that morning, but the trees looked very large and dark, and they swayed and creaked gothically in the rising wind. In a minute they swallowed her up, and she jogged steadily uphill on the narrow, rocky road, very much alone, with the huge trees bending and groaning on all sides, the big drops splatting onto her face and clothes, the occasional lighted house, glimpsed through tossing branches, serving only to increase her sense of isolation. It was getting darker, and she ran faster now to shake the eerie shadows and fought off the feeling that someone was behind her by pushing herself physically. Her shoes chuffed rhythmically and she had to concentrate on the road surface to avoid ruts and stones. She was sweating freely now despite the chill drops that worked their way down the neck and through the seams of her parka, and her breath was coming in great gulps as she fought toward the fast-fading point where the pale road disappeared between the dark walls of the woods. She passed the Adams house on the left—not far now.
Without warning the world exploded into light and for a moment Kate, completely disoriented, braced herself for the clap of thunder. Instead she heard a welcome voice shouting angrily.
'Turn that thing away, for Christ's sake, you're blinding her.' The light shifted, and through the dazzle in her eyes she was aware of figures, a car, a lighted house beyond. She automatically reached down and switched off her timer, and then stood, hands on knees, gulping in air.
'You all right?' Hawkin's voice again. She bobbed her head, and spoke as best she could.
'Yeah, just wanted, to make it, before dark, couldn't run, by flashlight, could use, a drink, of water, though.'
'I'd have thought you had enough on the outside to make you happy, but come on in the house and catch your breath.'
Kate ducked into the log cabin after him and accepted a chair and a drink, and as her heart slowed she was grateful for the glow of the wood stove at her side. Angie Dodson was a tiny, thin woman with a thick tumble of dark blond hair held determinedly in place by numerous inadequate hairpins, and she had filled the low room with bright pillows and tapestries and the smell of good food, with a large loom in one corner and a spinning wheel behind a chair. A serious, freckled child of about twelve brought Kate a big cup of hot, oniony soup and a warm, seed-filled roll.
'You're Amy, aren't you? I remember you from the other day.'
'Yes. Why did you run up from Tyler's in the rain when you could use a car?'
'Because it's there, I guess. Did you make this soup?'
'I helped Mom.'
'Thank you, you may have saved my life with it.' Seeing the serious consideration of this, Kate smiled. 'It's just a saying, but I do thank you very much for it.'
'You're welcome.'
'Ready, Martinelli?' Hawkin stood at the door with the jacket she had left with him several lifetimes before.
'Ready. Thank you, Mrs. Dodson, it really hit the spot.'
'Please, the name is Angie.'
'Good night, Angie,' called Hawkin. 'I hope your husband makes it home okay.'
Kate looked more carefully at the narrow face of the woman who seemed scarcely older than her daughter, and noticed then the tension of worry in her face.
'I expect he'll stay in town with friends, if it's raining too hard. It's happened before.' She lifted the bright kerosene lamp and led the way to the door. 'Feel free to come tomorrow, if you need a hot drink.'
'That's very good of you, Angie,' said Hawkin. 'We'll try not to bother you too much.'
'It's no bother, really it isn't. It—' She stopped, and looked faintly embarrassed and something else. Defiant? 'I shouldn't say this, I suppose, considering the reason you're here, but it's actually been a treat, seeing all these new faces. I've had fun.'
Yes, thought Hawkin, he could imagine that fun was a rare commodity up here this time of year, in a tiny dark house with no electricity and a child. His face relaxed into a smile, the smile that tended to fluster women like Angie Dodson.
'Fine, then. You keep the kettle on for us.'
The wind blew the rain into them as they stepped from the warmth and ran for the shelter of the wagon. Detweiler folded down his spotlight and picked up the portable radio Trujillo had provided. The crackling and whining were bad, but he eventually got the message across that they, the last car, were starting down.
'Sorry about the shouting,' he said, and pulled into the road. 'There's something wrong with the aerial.'
'Can you turn on the heater?' The man must be from Alaska, thought Kate.
'Sorry, it's gone too. There's a blanket back there somewhere. Are you cold?'
'For God's sake, man,' Hawkin burst out, 'she's soaked through; of course she's cold. Here, Casey, put this around you. Oh, Christ, don't tell me the wipers have gone out again.'
'They'll be fine as soon as the engine's warmed up,' the driver said desperately.
'Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,' said Hawkin in a soft voice. Kate did not think it was a prayer. It was fully dark, and the headlights, which did work, picked out no press cars through the rain at the bottom of the hill. Kate clamped her jaws shut against the shudders of cold that threatened to take possession. The electricity seemed to be out at Tyler's, but lamps shone in several windows. Hawkin was out of the wagon before the brake was set. He reached into the back door, pulled Kate out, steered her with one firm hand into the house and thrust her toward the bathroom. A kerosene lamp burned on the back of the toilet.
'Hot shower,' he ordered in a hard voice, and shut the door. A few minutes later Kate, under a stream of blessedly scalding water, heard the door open.
'Don't put those wet things on again,' came another order, and the door slammed. She pulled the curtain to one side and saw jeans, sweatshirt, and thick gray socks folded next to the sink. The urge to shudder subsided, the water began to run cool, and she dressed. When she came out of the steam-dripping room she heard a now-familiar voice shouting in monologue.
'—when it ought to be hauling cantaloupes in the Coachella Valley. You get me a decent four-wheel-drive vehicle in here tomorrow or I'm going to have to make some major waves about the lack of backup here for my people. No, I don't want to hear about your problems. I don't care if you have to break into the goddamn Jeep dealership and steal something. I can't have my partner getting pneumonia because you people don't maintain your equipment, and I'm too old and too ill-tempered to walk. Have I made myself sufficiently clear? Good. Have a nice evening,' he added maliciously, and hung up. He rapidly wiped the grin from his face when he saw Kate standing in the doorway, but it crept back in twitches. She was grinning too, in her cuffed and belted jeans and the sweatshirt that reached to her thighs. She felt ridiculously pleased at his use of the word 'partner.'
'Warmer now?' he asked.
