The Last Good Place of Lily Odilon (20 page)

“W e’re here,” Olivia announces, giving the fake-rustic
Welcome to Pine Glen
sign a firm pat.

The road, ever since the turnoff about three miles back, winds steeply up the mountain, and there seem to be more trees here and the pavement is better. It’s lucky for Albert and Olivia that there isn’t much traffic in late winter—the nearest ski hill is a hundred miles east, she tells him—because there’s nowhere to walk but on the slippery shoulder of the road itself. This sign letting them know the location and population of Pine Glen is attached to two posts on the shoulder. Other than the sign, there’s no break in the trees, and nothing to show that this is an actual town.

Taking a deep breath and leaning against the sign, Albert pushes his hair off his forehead. It’s a lot colder now and there are snow patches on the ground, but the sun feels good on top of his head. At night, he thinks, it probably gets
really
cold—which is a problem for anyone who doesn’t have a warm place to sleep.

Olivia’s mouth twists into a smile, a rare thing for her, and Albert notices that it makes a pretty break in her normally scowling face.

“So we’re here?” Albert echoes. He looks around. “Where are the buildings? Where are the people? Where’s the lake?”

“Well, I mean, this road leads into Pine Glen,” Olivia says, starting to walk again. “The summer places are around the lake. It’s farther up.”

He follows her. “It’s so quiet.”

“Because it’s
winter
,” Olivia says impatiently. “Trust me, this is the place. I’ve been here a million times.”

Their voices are clear, and carry in the still air as if on a stage.

“Look, you said Lily is hiding at the lake house,” Olivia adds. “Well, Yellow Pine Lake is above Pine Glen.” She gestures ahead. “I wouldn’t steer you wrong, Morales.”

Just as Olivia promises, the actual town of Pine Glen is just up the road. It seems to Albert, legs and chest aching, that nothing they’re looking for is ever
here
—it’s always farther up the road from wherever they are.

“Sisyphus,” he mutters, thinking of the story of the Greek guy who pissed Zeus off and ended up doomed to roll a rock up the same hill over and over for eternity.

“How’s that?” Olivia asks, turning her head to look at Albert.

“What?” he says, not realizing he’s said anything out loud.

Her eyes narrowing, she says, “There are people over there, so try to be cool, all right?”

“I’m like ice, baby,” he says, the words coming out slurred. He knows he’s acting weird but can’t help it. The tight, itching feeling in his chest is getting tighter and itchier and he’s finding it hard to think. Lily might be nearby … he might see her within hours … minutes …

After a while, the wall of evergreen trees thin and Albert and Olivia can now see the little town’s few buildings—a basic diner restaurant, a tiny gas and grocery, a very rundown motel—all right along the road, as if they would stop existing if they were built any farther back. Albert notices a couple sitting by the window of the diner, and just two cars parked by the grocery store.

“This place is really dead,” he says. It’s too quiet, like a Western right after the bad guys ride into town and right before Clint Eastwood jumps out of hiding to take them down. It’s quiet like a set. Like a trap. But that’s impossible … he knows it’s impossible.

“You should see it in the summer,” Olivia says. “It’s crawling with people and traffic on their way to and from the lake. Or at least that’s how I remember it.”

“I wish there were more people around. I feel like everyone is looking at us.”

“What everyone?”

He jerks his head toward the restaurant window. “Well, them, for instance. You know we stick out like crazy.” He hopes Lily didn’t stick out as much when she came through town.

Olivia moves closer to him and says in a low voice, “If anyone asks, our car broke down on our way to meet our parents at the lake, and we’re lost. Don’t lose it now.”

But no one bothers them as they walk through town, such as it is, and out toward the lake, which they can kind of see through the trees well before they get near it.

Albert has never thought that this time of day—dull, flat afternoon in late February—could feel so dangerous. But words like
ominous
and
oppressive
keep coming to his mind, even though the late-winter sun is shining and he can smell pine trees and see piles of snow in the shade and Yellow Pine Lake is probably sparkling away somewhere up ahead. Albert is now thinking about how bad, bad things can go down in broad daylight just as well as in the middle of night. He pictures again those empty streets in the spaghetti Westerns, right before the gunfight.

“Quiet on the set,” Albert mutters to himself.

“What?”

He rubs his eyes, hard. “Nothing.” Everything that’s happened lately is so out of his frame of reference that he keeps turning his life into the plot of a bad movie, with himself as the confused lead—sometimes he’s a gumshoe, sometimes he’s a shooter, but he’s always a step behind.

As they leave the center of town behind them, Albert tries to calm his nerves. They’re almost to the lake and so, he hopes, almost to Lily. He’s been worried about finding her and protecting her for what seems like forever. Now looking at himself like a critical outsider, inspecting his feelings, he finds it strange that he feels more dread than anticipation. He should be crazy with excitement, now that he’s so close to her for the first time since that night she slipped away. She’s the bright spot in the darkness that had dropped over his life. But instead, he has this enormous and growing sense that something bad is coming to screw it all up.

Albert can tell Olivia is feeling that bad thing, too, though neither of them say anything to the other about it. Things are still a little tense between them and now they don’t talk about anything at all. They keep on, silent and on edge, spooked like a couple of dogs right before a thunderstorm hits.

After a while longer, Albert thinks he knows what the bad feeling is. Pine Glen and Yellow Pine Lake may be pretty much deserted for the winter, but they aren’t alone. Someone is definitely following them.

After he and Olivia hung up, Albert realized he was still winded from the panicked run back home from Federated Oil. Or maybe it was just nerves. He looked at the clock, thinking he had
maybe
five minutes before he had to sneak back out again if he was going to make it to the theater in half an hour. He sat on the edge of his bed in the dark. He knew he’d been lucky to make it back inside without his parents noticing, and he hoped his luck would hold. His eyes wandered around the dark room, finally resting on the unshaded window and the glare from the streetlight coming through it.

He wasn’t tired, and he kept telling himself
I’m leaving in five minutes
as if repeating it enough times would make it seem more believable—or less insane. Whether he believed it or not, the plan was to take off, and by tomorrow
morning—no sooner, he hoped—his parents would be looking for him. Maybe frantic, definitely pissed.

Kogen’s good friend and Albert’s nemesis, Detective Andersen, would also definitely notice his absence—and Olivia’s. Maybe, Albert thought, Andersen might even suspect that Lily’s sister hadn’t gone with him willingly. Maybe he’d think she’d been Albert’s second victim … maybe that’s what they’d print in the newspapers. Lily and Olivia’s mother would have two missing daughters. And Kogen … Albert didn’t know how the guy would react. Except badly.

And by this time the day after tomorrow, there might even been an arrest warrant out there with Albert Morales’ name on it. Maybe sooner, he couldn’t say.

He stood, pacing, psyching himself up. He felt feverish and restless and nervous as hell. Trying to erase the unhappy thoughts from his brain, he imagined the moment that would make the trouble worth it: he closed his eyes and saw Lily smiling at him … then Kogen in the distance, hauled off to jail in handcuffs.

Albert tried not to dwell on the fact that the justice system didn’t always work out that way. The image of Kogen cut off by a Plexiglas window from any friends he had left was sweet, but Albert wasn’t sure he believed in it. He tried, anyway … he had to.

And still that doubting voice in the back of his head whispered,
You’re crazy to go after her
.

But it was Lily who was at stake. He’d seen tonight what Kogen was capable of, and found it all too easy to imagine what Kogen or MacLennan would do if one of them cornered Albert or Lily or Olivia. Albert told himself he didn’t have a choice. And the thought of Olivia spending another night under the same roof as her stepfather now was just insane. Running away to find Lily was the only option they had, as extreme as it seemed. Knowing this didn’t make him feel much better.

He went to his door and listened—he could hear the sound of the TV from the living room. He went to the window and looked out. He pressed his hot forehead against the cool glass and watched a few snowflakes fall. The flakes turned to icy pellets that weren’t going to last long once the sun came up again.
Like me, if I’m not careful
.

He was procrastinating, he knew, and time was passing quickly. It was time to get it together and just go for it. He looked around his bedroom in the dim light. There were only a few things he wouldn’t leave behind when he left. He’d take the clothes he was wearing, of course. He looked down at the hooded sweatshirt that covered two layers of T-shirt, his dirty jeans, and his dirtier sneakers. Good enough. He picked up his wallet from the dresser. Inside was his driver’s license, nine dollars cash, and a photo of himself and Lily ripped from the top of a photo booth series. In it, they were laughing like idiots, caught that way forever, her mouth wide open and his eyes screwed shut. He couldn’t see it well in the dark, but he had the picture memorized.

He took the money and the picture out of the wallet and slipped them into his back pocket, then dropped the wallet back on the dresser. He didn’t want any ID on him in case there was trouble, and otherwise the wallet was empty. There was a photo of Lily propped up against an old jar full of incense sticks, a picture she’d given him. It was a good shot of her, her pale blue eyes standing out above her orange sweater. It was carefree and glammy in a way she never was in real life. He picked it up, considering taking this photo rather than the black and white snapshot he’d already put in his pocket. In case they needed a “Have you seen this girl?” photo to show someone. But he set it gently down again. They weren’t going to be showing her photo to anyone, he was pretty sure, and if on the off-chance they did need one, he liked the one he’d already put in his pocket better.

See
, the photomat picture said,
this guy was lucky enough to get that girl
.

He paused, considering both pictures, then picked up the glam shot, too, and placed them both in his back pocket. Knowing it was stupid.

There was one other thing. Kneeling in front of his bookcase, Albert pulled
Treasure Island
off the shelf and felt around until he found the envelope with Lily’s letter. He took the postcard out and tucked it back into
Treasure Island
, then folded the envelope with the letter into his other back pocket. Obviously there was no way he was leaving it behind.

That was the limit of Albert’s packing.

Stop screwing around and just
go
.

Albert went to his door and opened it quietly, just a crack. His parents were talking in voices that drifted down the hall over the sound of the television. Not for the first time, their topic of discussion was Albert and Lily. It was like they thought they were alone in the house, or that Albert was deaf. Snatches of their conversation reached his ears.

“… was never this bad before he met that girl.” This was Albert’s mother speaking.

“Oh, Van … he’s a teenager.”

“No. That girl has him bewitched. She’s going to ruin his life! Even when she’s not here, she’s ruining his life.”

That girl
…

“I feel for her parents,” said Albert’s father, “to have a child with so many problems.”

“I feel worse for us, if she drags our son down with her,” Albert’s mother said. Laughter from the TV filled the silence after she spoke.

“I know … but she needs help. If she were
my
kid, I’d have her put away so she could get it.”

An angry snort from Albert’s mother. “I just wish Albert would see her for what she is—a millstone.”

“You can’t say anything to him,” said his father, “or you know what will happen. He’ll just dig in more, and before you know it, we’ll be grandparents.”

Ears burning, Albert didn’t wait to hear more. It was just the same old crap they’d been saying for a while and he was in too much of a hurry to worry about it now. He shut the door as softly as possible. The important thing was, his parents were parked in front of the TV. He had the sad Albert-shaped lump still stuffed under the covers of his bed, which would probably be fine if all they did was look in on him with the light off. He picked up his coat.

He opened the window just wide enough to slip through. After he dropped to the ground, he hurried across the yard, across the street, and into the alley.

The night seemed really empty. The snow had stopped again and the ground was wet as the flakes melted when they hit the ground. Everyone seemed to be wherever they belonged instead of out here—probably bathrobed-out like his parents in front of the TV. Albert had always found it spooky how shifting a few hours changed the streets from a world of cars on their way home from work, school buses stopped at corners, other kids on their way home for family dinner, to a world of silence and stillness. Everyone was where they were supposed to be for the night; everyone except Albert Morales and—he hoped—Olivia Odilon. Maybe it was because his nerves were tweaked, but Albert found the stillness eerily dreamlike.

Then he remembered he was supposed to be downtown in half an hour, which wasn’t going to happen if he kept screwing around. So, as it seemed he’d been doing every time he left the house lately, he broke into a slow jog, as fast as he dared.