The Escape Artist (25 page)

Adam winked at Kim, as if to say ‘I told you so’ and she smiled at him in relief.

Back in the reception area, she counted out one hundred and twenty dollars, adamantly refusing the fifty Adam tried to press into her hand.

Adam offered to drive home so she could sit in the back with Cody. She was quiet in the car, and she felt herself stiffen as they turned onto her street. She half expected to see the police car, or maybe two or three, waiting for her out front. But only Adam’s car was parked at the curb.

Adam pulled her car behind his and looked at his watch. “Two o’clock,” he said. “Let me make you guys lunch.”

She bit her lip, uncertain how to respond. It was Sunday. In six hours she would be able to hear Linc on the radio, and all she really wanted to do between now and then was take care of her son and wait. She would have liked to have Adam wait with her. She would have liked to have him lie in her bed with her, holding her, while Cody slept—but only until eight, when she’d want him gone. That was hardly fair.

She shook her head. “I’m so tired,” she said. “Cody had me up before the sun this morning. I’d really like to spend the rest of the day sleeping and puttering.”

For a minute she thought he was going to suggest sleeping and puttering with her, but he seemed to think better of it and she was relieved.

“All right.” He looked worried. “Promise you’ll call if you need anything?”

She nodded. “Thank you so much, Adam.”

They got out of the car and Adam handed her the keys.

“I’ll bring that insurance information over tomorrow,” he said, as she lifted Cody into her arms.

“Okay.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you then.”

EXCEPT FOR ONE, TOO-BRIEF
nap, Cody was fussy much of the afternoon, and she was glad she’d elected to be alone with him. She divided her time between cuddling him, touching up the pale roots of her hair, and talking to Ellen about the leaky faucet in the bathroom. When the apartment was perfectly quiet, the dripping sounded like a sledgehammer.

She’d just gotten Cody to bed that evening when she heard Simon and Garfunkel’s “Song for the Asking” on the radio. She turned off her bedroom light and got under the covers to listen.

“Welcome to
Songs for the Asking
,” Linc said. “Tonight we’ll be listening to Van Morrison, the old and the new.”

As usual, his voice brought tears to her eyes.

I miss you, Linc
.

She listened to the music, willing the songs to go quickly so she could hear his voice in between them. She could picture him sitting in his studio this past Wednesday, taping this particular show. She saw him shuffling the CDs, leaning back in his chair, drinking coffee from the mug she’d given him for his last birthday.

There was a knock on her door as Linc began playing “Moondance.” She jumped from the bed, startled, and looked out the window, expecting to see the police car again. But except for her own car and Lucy’s, the street was empty.

“Kim?” She heard Lucy’s voice through the front door. “It’s Lucy, honey.”

She walked into the living room and opened the door, blinking against the sudden intrusion of light from the hallway. In its glow, her neighbor no longer looked like the benevolent, grandmotherly woman who shared coffee with her on the porch in the mornings.

“Why are you sitting here in the dark?” Lucy asked.

“Oh.” Kim looked behind her at her unlit living room, as if she was as surprised by the darkness as Lucy was. “I was in the bedroom. Cody’s had an earache today and I—”

“Oh, that poor little guy. How’s he doing now?”

“Fine. I have some medicine for him.” She should probably invite Lucy in, but she wanted to spend the evening with Linc, not the neighbor she no longer trusted.

“That’s good,” Lucy said, then added, “Listen dear, I’m having a heck of a time with that oven.” She pointed behind her toward her own apartment. “It’s the first time I’ve tried to bake in it, and I can’t even get it turned on. Is yours the same? Have you figured it out?”

Ellen had shown her how to use the temperamental oven weeks earlier. You had to hold the on/off dial in with one hand the same time you set the temperature with the other. She knew she had no choice but to give Lucy a hands-on demonstration.

“I’ll show you.” She stepped into the hall, leaving her door open so she could listen for Cody.

She walked ahead of Lucy into the older woman’s apartment, fighting the fantasy of being surrounded by police once she stepped over the threshold.

Lucy’s apartment was smaller than hers, but filled with a similar collection of second-hand furniture supplied by Ellen. The dining room table had been taken over by a computer, much as Kim’s had been, but there were stacks of papers and magazines and books piled over any blank space on the table, as well as on the chairs and kitchen counters. The walls were bare, and the general feeling in the apartment was stark and temporary.

Except for the refrigerator. Photographs nearly covered the surface of the freezer door. Babies. Children. Young adults. Kim thought she should ask Lucy about them, but that would have to wait. She could still vaguely hear Linc talking on the radio in her own apartment, although from this distance, she couldn’t possibly make out his words.

She bent over to show Lucy how to work the finicky oven. She spoke little, afraid that her voice would be husky and her recent tears evident. Only when she stood up straight did she notice that Lucy’s own eyes were red. Circles of pink stood out on her cheeks and throat.

“Are you all right?” Kim asked.

“Oh.” Lucy waved her hand through the air and took in a long, jerky breath. “I just had a conversation with one of my sons on the phone.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I haven’t seen any of my children in six months,” Lucy said. She picked up the cookie tray that rested on the counter only to put it down again. “Not to mention my grandchildren. That’s why I dote on your little boy so.”

Kim had no idea why that police officer had paid his visit to Lucy, but she suddenly felt certain that Lucy had no malicious intentions toward her. “Why don’t you see them?” she asked.

“Because I walked out of my marriage. After thirty years. If I’d had any self-respect, I would have left long before then, but I toughed it out as long as I could. My kids should have applauded me. But, no. I’ve wrecked their lives, they say.” Lucy’s lower lip trembled.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Kim touched her arm. “I bet they’ll see the light in time, though.” She knew she should ask more questions. Why Lucy had left, what had been so awful about that marriage.

Lucy was inviting it. She wanted to talk. Probably she’d known full well how to get that oven working. But the clock on the oven read 9:47 and Kim could hear the soft hum of Linc’s voice from across the hall. She had to get back to him. She would let Lucy talk on the porch the following morning. She’d listen for hours if need be.

“I have to get back, Lucy,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to leave Cody alone. Can we visit on the porch in the morning?”

“Yes, please. I’d like that.” Lucy brightened at the thought. “I’ll bring the coffee.”

Kim stepped into the dark living room again and closed her apartment door behind her. There was an instant of silence from the radio, and then Leonard Cohen’s voice filled the air.
Suzanne takes you down
…

The end of the show. She wondered what she’d missed. Had he said anything, played anything he would have wanted her to hear?

When Linc’s show was over, she sat on the sofa for a long time, writing a letter to him in her head. The letter was filled with innuendo, with esoteric meaning only he would understand. It made her laugh out loud, and somewhere around the third or fourth paragraph, she knew she was going to actually write the letter. On paper. And mail it. No, fax it, from some other town. He received hundreds of faxed requests for music, his ‘songs for the asking’. Anyone sifting through his mail to see if she were in contact with him would never be able to separate her requests from the others. She would have to make sure of that. But Linc would be able to. If he were paying the least little bit of attention to his mail, he would know.

She sat down at the computer and began to type.

Dear Linc Sebastian
,

She looked out the window toward the dark river.

I’m writing from my place near the river
, she began, a cryptic allusion to a line from the song “Suzanne.”

I would appreciate it if you would play the following for me.

She listed several songs he would recognize as her favorites. Then she signed the letter,
S.T.U. Downe
, in reference to the first line from “Suzanne.”

Read carefully, Linc
, she thought to herself.

She slept well that night, content that in a few hours her words would find their way into Linc’s hands.

In the morning, she met Lucy on the porch for coffee, as promised. Lucy cuddled Cody on her lap as they talked. Cody had recovered remarkably overnight, but he was still subdued enough to want to cuddle rather than play.

Kim listened guiltily as Lucy divulged the miserable workings of a long-failed marriage. Everyone was confiding in her, and she gave them dishonesty in return.

What she really wished Lucy would talk about was the visit from the policeman the other night. When Lucy finally seemed to run out of words, Kim mustered up her courage.

“I saw a police officer here a few nights ago,” she said. “I was worried something was wrong.”

Lucy instantly colored. “Oh, I’d just…I’d heard a noise. I’ve always been one of those jumpy people, you know. Imagining things. I’m not used to living alone. So…I’m sorry if he disturbed you. I felt ridiculous after I called him. It was nothing, of course.”

Lucy was talking far too fast, and Kim could not shake the feeling that she was lying. But the older woman seemed so uncomfortable that Kim felt sorry for her.

“I’ve done that, too,” she said. “Once when my husband was out of town, I could have sworn someone was breaking in the back door and I called the cops.” It was a lie, but Lucy looked relieved by Kim’s empathy.

After her visit with Lucy, she loaded Cody in the car and headed west, the letter in her purse. It took her an hour to reach Rockville, which seemed like a big, reassuringly anonymous place. She drove around until she found a large, busy office supply store, and it was from there that she faxed the letter to Linc, marching right up to the counter as though she faxed things every day.

Then she drove the hour back to Annapolis, her hands perspiring on the steering wheel, hoping she had not made a mistake.

“WHEW!” PEGGY LOOKED AT
Nancy across the ruins of the Currys’ family room.

Nancy put her hands on her hips. “Glad that’s over,” she said.

Peggy sank into the chair closest to the front door and grinned at her friend. “So that’s what life is like with kids in the house.” She’d spent the afternoon helping Nancy with a birthday party for her twelve-year-old daughter, Renee. They’d taken twenty wild and giggly preadolescent girls bowling, watched a movie with them in the family room, sat through the boisterous opening of gifts, and eaten pizza and cake. Even with the last of the girls out of the house, Peggy’s ears still rang from the din.

She surveyed the damage in the room. Dirty paper plates and plastic cups littered every table, and wrapping paper was ankle deep on the floor. “Let’s get this mess cleaned up,” she said as she started to get out of her chair, but Nancy motioned her to stay seated.

“Nah,” Nancy said. “Let’s just visit for a while. You’ve done your duty. Gary and I can clean up later.”

Peggy gratefully remained in her chair. She felt as though she’d spent the afternoon in a foreign country, trying to speak the language and master the currency, and she was truly exhausted. But it had been fun.

“Renee’s adorable,” she said.

Nancy chuckled. “I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the teen years with her. She’s already got boys on the brain, in case you didn’t notice.”

“I noticed.” She smiled, then cocked her head at Nancy. “Do you think girls are easier to raise than boys?” she asked.

“No way.”

“Well, I hope I get the chance to find out.” It had been five weeks since she’d last seen Tyler, and she was losing her optimism. “Just think,” she said. “I’ll be pushing fifty when Tyler’s a teenager. Not that it will matter if we don’t get him back.”

“You will,” Nancy said. “You’ve got to. It was meant to be.”

“Nothing’s worked so far,” Peggy said with a sigh. She picked up a pink ribbon from the floor near her foot and laid it flat across her lap. “All the legal channels seem to be failing us.”

“Have you thought about a psychic?”

Peggy laughed.

“I’m serious,” Nancy said. “I’ve never been to one myself, but some of my friends swear by them. You could take a piece of Tyler’s clothing with you, or a toy he loves, and she might be able to tell you where he is.”

Peggy was surprised not so much by the suggestion as by her reaction to it. It actually seemed worth considering. She wished Tyler had left his monkey behind. Talk about a toy he loved.

“I can just hear Jim’s reaction to that idea,” she said.

Nancy looked suddenly pensive. “You know…” Her voice drifted off and she leaned her head against the back of the chair and stared at the ceiling.

“Know what?” Peggy asked.

“Oh, I’m just confused about something.”

“About what?” She ran her fingers over the smooth ribbon in her lap.

Nancy kept her eyes on the ceiling. “Well, I feel awkward talking to you about it, but—”

“
Nancy
. What?”

Nancy looked at her. “I was talking to my sister the other day. Remember? She worked with Susanna?”

“Yes.”

“Well, her take on the whole situation is so different from yours.”

Peggy’s defenses immediately sprang to life. “How do you mean?” she asked.

“Julie said that everyone
liked
Susanna at the bank. They thought she was really nice and a very good mother.”