Thomas looked as if he'd just been betrayed. His face turned red as he fought for words. 'I want to be by my wife's side when she discusses our son. As you can see, it's quite trying.'
'I know it must be,' Jade said. 'But I really think it's better that I speak with her alone. Just for a minute.'
Darby winked at Thomas. 'I'll be okay, love. Just for a minute.'
The living room had a sliding glass door that opened onto the backyard. Thomas rose to his feet and went outside. The door slid behind him with an airtight thunk. Jade looked at Travers. 'Alone, please.'
She stared at him with calm fury, her mouth clamped shut so tightly that it distorted her entire face. She stood and exited. The door closed with a louder thunk.
Jade rose and walked over to Darby. He rested his hand on her shoulder and she received it gracefully, as if it were an invitation to dance.
'How do you know, Mr. Marlow?' she asked.
Jade looked at her quietly before speaking. 'I just pieced it together.'
'If you're that good, then God help my boy because that's the best-hidden skeleton in California.' She was totally calm.
'Do you really want God to help him?'
'When I believe in God?' She nodded. 'Sometimes. I think that's the only thing Thomas will never forgive me for. My son was made who he is by the prisons, the psychologists. He can be salvaged.'
She grasped Jade's arm around his elbow, leaning for support.
'When did he do it, Darby?'
She tightened her grip on Jade, but her voice was unflinching. 'He was seventeen. It was… before he fled from here.'
'He couldn't do it, could he?' Jade asked. 'Allander.'
For a moment, he thought she was going to faint. He could only imagine what memories were flashing through her mind. And how much they hurt.
She shook her head. 'I'm sorry. Your reasoning has failed you.'
'He couldn't finish then, could he?'
'No, Mr. Marlow. He could not. He did not ejaculate. In me. Thomas came home and Allander fled.' Her jaw was squared, her eyes firm and courageous. 'Thomas knows,' she said. 'But I do appreciate your sensitivity.'
They sort of laughed together ironically.
Jade's mind was racing. Allander had not ejaculated. And he had not killed his father. His Oedipal complex had yet to be fulfilled. He hadn't had the courage to finish with either his mother or his father, and it had haunted him ever since. Now these killings were practice runs to get his courage up, to get him past his sexual insecurity. To get him ready to come home again.
'Thank you, Darby,' Jade said. He couldn't remember the last time he'd thanked someone. 'You're doing the right thing, helping me this way.'
She blinked rapidly several times to keep the tears back. 'There comes a time, I suppose, when you must let them go.'
That's right, Jade thought, Allander's in my hands now.
He remembered his agreement with Darby and felt a sudden claustrophobia. He'd have to deal with that when the time came.
'Don't worry,' he said. 'I called for two more cars to watch the house. You're very safe.'
She smiled and waved him off. Then she went to the door and called Travers and Thomas back inside. As they were getting ready to leave, Jade turned to Thomas. 'Do you mind if I use your bathroom?'
Jade's face looked back out of the small mirror above the toilet as he urinated. The bathroom was decorated with floral wallpaper, and carved seashell soaps adorned the marble sink's counter. A wicker shelf protruded from above the towel rack by the sink, and it was cluttered with small, graceless figures that would have been out of place anywhere else-a twirling porcelain ballerina; the three monkeys of lore; a Rockwellesque doctor examining the ear of a freckle-faced youngster.
As he leaned forward to flush the toilet, he was struck with a moment of insight. It was right there in front of him. He turned around and plucked the figure from the shelf, holding it to the light before sliding it into his pocket.
He walked back into the living room, untucking his shirt slightly so that it would hang down over the bulge in his pocket. The Atlasias sat silently side by side, and they did not look up when Jade entered the room. He signaled Travers with a jerk of his head.
Darby showed them to the front door. When she swung it open, she let out a startled cry. A photographer had jumped from his car onto the front walkway. No more than twenty yards from Darby, he raised the camera to his eye.
Jade quickly stepped forward, blocking Travers from view. He slid his arm across Darby's shoulders just as the photographer started shooting. Although Darby was too shocked by the photographer to notice, it made him feel sleazy. It was a cheap move, but given the opportunity and the potential payoff, it was one he had to take.
The photographer ran back to his car and hopped in, tossing the camera into the passenger seat. The car had been left running.
Travers pushed past Jade just in time to see the car pull away. 'Press?' she asked.
Jade nodded. 'Wouldn't have gotten past the men if they hadn't checked him out,' he said. He pointed to the black Oldsmobile across the street and the driver waved, then gave a frustrated shrug. 'Not much they can do to stop them if they're clean.'
Travers shook her head. 'Only two kinds of people need getaway cars,' she said. 'Bank robbers and photographers.'
Darby placed a hand on her chest to slow her breathing. 'It's okay,' she said. 'Madonna and I, we're used to it.'
Travers laughed. 'Well, thanks for your time.'
Darby looked up and caught Jade's eye. He was alone with her for an instant, alone in her private world. He could almost sense the depth of her pain in the slight wrinkles around her eyes.
She mustered her strength and smiled.
He smiled back.
Chapter 37
In the afternoon, Allander's hunger pangs finally distracted him from his quiet reflections. Rising and stretching, he headed back to the main road. He whistled as he walked, enjoying the lightness of the sound and the freedom of the notes as they drifted on the wind.
As he rounded a bend in the road, a large field spread before him to his left. He hopped the mossy wooden slats of the fence and made his way slowly through the field, skimming an open hand on top of the waving yellow foxtails. His feet sank slightly in the rich ground with each step. The far end of the field sloped up to the top of a little hill, and a farm-style house sat at its peak.
Allander resumed whistling and headed for the house. He rapped the door with his knuckles. It was a large wooden door, with lines and ridges, worn with time and use. The sign posted along the country road had advertised a 'learning school.'
Allander imagined that the teacher lived and taught in the same house, for it had been described as a 'residential school' on the map he had seen at the bus station. The door was opened by a homely, middle-aged woman who wore her hair pulled back neatly in a bun.
'Hello. My car broke down and I was wondering if you would do me the great favor of allowing me to use your telephone.'
She glanced down at him. She was a rather sturdy woman, and she stood with her arms crossed, pushed out from her chest by enormous breasts outlined like boulders beneath her apron.
