The cabdriver breathed a sigh of relief as I leaped out at the corner of Haight and Ashbury and rushed up the street. Terri waved to me from the Ford but I passed him by, my sights set on the blue and lavender Victorian house.
I rang Simmons’s buzzer again and again, without any luck. I became desperate enough to pick up a couple of pebbles and chuck them at his front window. However, there was still no response. I finally had no choice but to concede that the man wasn’t home.
I turned to leave, only to find Terri standing behind me, his face scrunched up and streaked with tears.
“Oh, God! I don’t know what to say, except that I’m so sorry. I feel absolutely sick about this. How could I have let it happen? What’s wrong with me, anyway? I’m a total dimwit. A pathetic loser!” he groaned.
Any anger I felt instantly vanished, knowing perfectly well the same thing could have happened to me.
“Don’t say that. It’s going to be all right,” I told Terri, and gave him a hug.
He broke into a sob, crying so hard that I pulled a ragged tissue from my bag and helped blot his tears.
“Listen, for all we know, Simmons left early this morning and went straight to his store.” I tried to console him, though I didn’t really believe it.
“Well then, what are we waiting for?” Terri asked, using the last of the soggy tissue to blow his nose. “Let’s get going.”
We hot-footed it down the street to Big Daddy’s Body Shop. But the sign advertising the specials of the day wasn’t out, and the place was dark and closed. Terri banged on the door, and frantically rattled the knob. When he turned back around, it was with a steely determination that I hadn’t seen before.
“We’ve got to go to Simmons’s house in Mendocino right now.”
“That’s exactly what I plan to do. Except I’m going alone.”
“Like hell you are,” Terri growled, seeming to have more Jack Russell than French poodle in him.
“It could be dangerous, Terri. I don’t know what I’m going to find.”
“Which is exactly why you need me along. I can be a useful diversion.”
I glanced at his curly blond wig, blue tapered shirt, and black leather pants, and had to admit he was probably correct.
“You have to let me help you, Rach. I’ll never be able to forgive myself, otherwise.”
I knew all too well how that felt. Besides, I didn’t want this plaguing him for the rest of his life.
“I’ll let you come if you promise not to argue with me, but do exactly as I say. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” He fervently nodded, as a few last tears slipped from his eyes.
It was precisely because I didn’t want a heated discussion that I opted against calling Santou and revealing my plans. As good as he’d been so far, Jake still liked to play by the book, and this was no time to defer to a bunch of tight-ass rules and regulations. Not when Lily’s life was possibly at stake.
We hurried back to the Ford, where Terri tossed me the keys. Then we raced across town and over the Golden Gate Bridge, driving smack into a marshmallow fluff of fog so thick I wondered if I’d ever really woken from my dream. It swallowed the bridge, holding us captive for a while, before grudgingly spitting the Explorer out on the other side. We wasted no time but hastily sped away, trailed by the wail of a fog horn floating hauntingly in the air like a rhapsodic aria.
Neither of us spoke as the Ford burned up the miles, chasing a few stray rays of sun that dared pierce the clouds. However, even those beams faded like a distant radio signal as we swung off the highway and made our way toward the coast. There an angry rainstorm rumbled toward us, brutally pelting the windshield. The tempest pursued us through the redwood corridor, along Route 1, and past Mendocino. It followed all the way to the old Baker property, where I turned onto the gravel road and parked in front of the gate.
“Stay here. I’ve got to cut the padlock,” I ordered.
I grabbed the bolt cutter under my seat and ran out into the downpour, where the No Trespassing sign beckoned like a beacon through the fog. Once there, I positioned what I liked to call my own personal master key around the don’t-mess-with-me lock. The only difficulty was that I kept losing my grip while trying to wipe the rain from my eyes.
I must have had a guardian angel watching out for me, as the problem was miraculously solved. Though the rain persisted to fall all around, it suddenly stopped pummeling my head. I turned to discover that my angel was none other than Terri, who stood holding an umbrella over me.
“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’ve committed the ultimate sin by not following your orders and getting out of the car. But I consider this to be a supreme fashion crisis that overrides everything else. I hate to tell you this, Rach, but you look more like the winning contestant in a wet T-shirt contest than you do Holly Golightly being glamorously drenched by the rain. So just cut the damn lock already and let’s get back inside the Explorer.”
I grinned and did as instructed. One good snip and it fell to the ground with a satisfying thud, allowing the gate to swing wide open. The Ford chugged through, happy to be on its way.
The gravel road rapidly deteriorated into a muddy path bordered by a picket fence, its gray wooden planks resembling a row of chipped, uneven teeth. We followed where it led.
The trail ended at a Gothic house precariously perched on the cliffs. The rain slowed to a drizzle as I pulled up next to what I imagined must be Simmons’s car—an old turquoise Thunderbird bearing a license plate that read DARK AGE.
Terrific. Another insight into Big Daddy’s psyche that I didn’t find terribly comforting. Then I remembered having spotted the car on Ashbury Street last night.
“Now what?” Terri asked, apprehensively looking around.
“I’m going to see if anyone’s home. Do you want to stay here and wait?”
“Not on your life,” he replied, and scrambled out of the vehicle.
The rain had finally come to a halt, leaving the ground as wet as a sponge. The moisture permeated my shoes and squished between my toes, causing my soles to squeak like a pair of chattering mice. We slogged through mud and grass, careful to avoid the edge of the cliffs, not wanting to slip and fall.
I trudged up the lopsided porch steps and approached the front door, listening for any unusual sound. But the only thing to be heard were waves crashing against the rocks, like the persistent baying of a dog.
“Jeez. Quite the place to live, huh? It’s not exactly conducive for weekend get-togethers and parties. One false step off this wreck of a porch and you can kiss your tuchus goodbye,” he said, voicing exactly how I felt.
I bolstered my courage and knocked loudly on the door. The surroundings remained quiet; all except for the waves which continued to scream, Go away! Go away!
The only other noise was that of Terri’s breathing, which had grown as rapid as a hummingbird’s wings.
“I guess no one’s home. Maybe we should leave,” he suggested, sounding as breathless as Marilyn Monroe.
However, footprints near the door insinuated otherwise, although their muddy tracks were dry. I tried the knob. It turned effortlessly under my touch. The door creaked open with a yawn. I pushed it a little wider and entered. Terri carefully wiped the mud from his shoes, and followed me inside.
“Anybody here?” he called out.
The quiet was so profound, I could hear the echo of his question.
“Holy crap. This place is pretty creepy, don’t you think?” he asked, pointing to a row of masks on the wall.
They glared at us with angry expressions, as if demanding to know what we were doing here.
“Just keep your eyes peeled for anything that might belong to Lily,” I responded, not wanting to admit that I was beginning to feel a little freaked out, myself.
Though I said nothing, I was looking for more than just a DVD collection of the TV show Buffy. My mission had taken on a dual purpose. I was fully determined to find proof that Big Daddy was also Horus.
&nbs
p; We scoured every room of the house searching for the least bit of evidence. But nothing of Lily was to be found. Equally odd, not a single specimen of a butterfly was around. The only thing clear was that Simmons lived here. The house was as filled with things as his place in the Haight.
I gazed out a window, wondering what to do now, racking my brain for some kind of sign I might have missed. Instead, the amorphous face which continually haunted my dreams rose to the surface, metamorphosing into that of Big Daddy. I cursed Simmons for being the monster I’d recognized too late, realizing he must have Lily hidden somewhere else.
“I haven’t found a thing, Rach. How about you?” Terri asked, nervously twisting his fingers.
“Me neither,” I admitted.
We wandered back outside where the sky appeared bruised, still marred by ashen clouds hovering overhead.
“Trepler said there were twenty acres to this place. I can’t search it all, but I’ve got to try and cover as much territory as possible while we’re here. I want you to wait for me in the Explorer.”
However, rather than walk back to the Ford, Terri defiantly shook his head. “Sorry, but I can’t do that, Rach.”
I was afraid he might say something like that.
“Don’t argue with me, Terri. You can’t go tromping around in the woods. Look at the way you’re dressed. You’re going to mess up your good leather pants and Diesel shoes. Besides, we had an agreement. Remember?”
Terri derisively brushed off my comment. “They’re just clothes, Rach. And as for our agreement? I’d have said anything to come along. You should know that by now. You would have done the same thing yourself.”
He folded his arms across his chest, making it perfectly clear that he wasn’t about to budge. How could I have been so crazy as to think he’d actually listen to me?
“All right. Let’s get going, then,” I said, feeling far too pressed for time to stand there and argue.
But Terri remained rooted to his spot. “I think we should split up.”
I stared at him, completely flabbergasted. “Are you kidding? You don’t know this area. You could get lost.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I saw a roll of plastic yellow tape in your glove compartment. I’ll mark a trail as I go along.”
“And what if you get in trouble?” I fired back. “Do you also happen to have a weapon with you?”
“Who needs one when I’ve got my cell phone?” he retorted. “Just keep yours on, and I’ll call if necessary.”
It was as if Terri had rehearsed this routine on the drive up, armed with a snappy response for everything that I said.
“Too much can go wrong,” I countered. “What if you stumble upon Simmons and he gets upset? Do you know what could happen?”
Terri’s eyelids flickered and I wondered if he was blinking back tears. Instead he stubbornly jutted out his chin.
“You don’t have any say in this, Rach. It’s my fault that Simmons slipped away in the first place. I’m going to help find Lily, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Besides, we can cover more ground this way. Unless you want to bring in the local police, of course. I’m sure they’d be delighted to rush out here and help you.”
My nails bit into my palms, but it was already too late. He’d carefully laid his trap and I was beginning to waver. Terri knew the police would never get involved. There was no proof Lily was here with Simmons—never mind trying to convince them that she’d been taken against her will. He instinctively sensed my dilemma and went in for the kill.
“Face it, you need my help. What if something happens to Lily that could have been stopped, only you don’t get there quickly enough? Then how are you going to feel?” he asked, expertly pushing my buttons.
Damn him for being so clever.
I walked to my vehicle, opened the glove compartment, and handed Terri the yellow tape.
“Just don’t do anything stupid. Got that?” I instructed, so fiercely it came out as a bark.
I was furious that he’d played me this well. Maybe it was losing my mother only two years ago, along with memories of Rebecca and dealing with Santou’s close call, that had me on edge. But if anything happened to Terri, I swore to God that I’d kill Big Daddy.
“Don’t worry, sweetie. I haven’t gotten this body of mine into prime physical condition just to screw it up now,” he said, taking the tape from my hand and planting a kiss on my cheek. “Which way should I go?”
I pointed in the direction of town, figuring that should keep him out of trouble. Besides, he could always order a latte once he got there.
Nineteen
I watched Terri walk away before turning around and heading inland from the cliffs. Even so, I could still smell the salty tang of the Pacific, and feel its windswept spray sneak around to dampen my cheeks.
Soon I’d left the ocean behind, and was hiking among a grove of redwoods that rose like a chapel above me. Their fallen needles softly pillowed my feet. I came upon a fallen log that rose as high as my chest. The wood had been hacked open, exposing an interior so red that it looked like raw beef. Walking over, I placed my hand on the open wound.
Ba bump! Ba bump! Ba bump!
Its core beat like a heart against my palm, coursing up through my arm, until my entire body pulsed in rhythm with its vibration. I pulled away, frightened by what I had felt.
Keep your mind on Simmons and Lily, I warned myself, not trusting the lure of the forest, which blatantly tried to seduce me.
I caught sight of a faint trail off to my left and my curiosity instantly became aroused. I followed its path and soon found myself surrounded by rhododendrons bearing deep pink blossoms the size of my fist, as well as huckleberry bushes littered with luscious black berries. I carefully watched my step, having spotted redwood sorrel sprouting underfoot. Its clover-shaped leaves had folded up in the rain like a profusion of miniature parasols.
But it was what lay beyond this verdant wonderland that caused my heart to race. There stood another house. I quickly hurried toward it.
The structure was a one-level cabin. A large shed stood nearby, next to which a car was parked. Something about the vehicle seemed oddly familiar. I wandered over to find that its doors were locked. I glanced inside. Nothing on either the floor or seats set off my suspicions. Then I realized where I’d seen the car before. It was the same navy blue Ford Galaxy that Spencer Barnes had driven—the young man I’d met at Big Daddy’s Body Shop. What in hell was he doing here?
I remembered he’d given me a slip of paper with his phone number on it. I dug around in my jeans pocket now and fished it out. Area code 707. Bingo! The code was for Mendocino County.
The discovery made me all the more uneasy. Simmons and Spencer were apparently closer than I had thought. Then again, maybe I was jumping to the wrong conclusion. After all, this place was on Big Daddy’s property. So what if Spencer also had a house in Mendocino? It didn’t necessarily mean this cabin was where he lived. Perhaps he’d merely stopped by to give Simmons more sketches for his tattoo clients. Only how could he have known Big Daddy would be here on a work day, when he should have been at his store in San Francisco?
The best way to get answers was to simply keep digging. I decided to start with the shed for one simple reason. It was locked, and unlike the Galaxy, there were no windows through which to peek inside. The only problem was that I’d left my bolt clippers back in the Explorer.
I studied the lock. It wasn’t nearly as large and foreboding as the one used to secure the entrance gate. With that in mind, I pulled my Leatherman multipurpose tool from its sheath and set to work.
God, I loved this thing! I jimmied the lock in no time. The shed door opened with a submissive groan, as if resigned to spilling its secrets. A feeble ray of light tiptoed in ahead of me.
The first thing to catch my eye was a van much like the one that had run me off the road. The very thought made my blood go cold. I plucked a small flashlight from my back pocket and began to examin
e its exterior.
The passenger side was dented and bore long scratches, as if a fiend had furiously slashed back and forth across the paint job with a set of sharp nails. But that wasn’t all. The front bumper looked as though it had been repeatedly smacked with a hammer. However, the real clincher were the flakes of dark green paint that I found embedded in the abrasions—they were very same color as that of my Ford.
I thought back to what had happened last night. How odd. It already felt like weeks ago. Big Daddy could easily have beaten me home to the Haight. He would have had a good head start after pushing me into the woods. But there was something else. Simmons had clearly just taken a shower upon my arrival, and had been reluctant to let me inside. I hadn’t looked for a van on his block. But then again, why would I? There’d been no reason to suspect that Big Daddy was the road rage culprit.
The only thing screwing up my theory was the blue Thunderbird that sat parked outside the other house. Simmons couldn’t have driven both the car and van back to Mendocino early this morning. The whole thing was starting to make me a little crazy. I decided to give it a rest and look around some more.
A large freezer chest stood against the far wall. I made my way toward it, my stomach beginning to twist with apprehension at what I might find.
You’ve got too vivid an imagination, Porter, my inner voice scolded.
Maybe so. But my hands felt numb and my mouth had suddenly become dry.
Please, let there only be deer meat inside.
Lifting the lid, I nearly breathed a sigh of relief to discover a mother lode of plastic containers, all neatly stacked and filled with hundreds of butterflies. They lay lifeless, apparently ready and waiting for buyers. Their wings were flawless, as if having never been touched by a net. Though this didn’t prove that Big Daddy was in any way Horus, it certainly revealed him to be a liar. There could no longer be any doubt but that Simmons was still in the butterfly trade.
Another thing struck me as I looked around. The shed was absolutely immaculate. There wasn’t a speck of dirt on the cement floor—not even the least bit of mud from off the van’s tires. Not a trace of dust could be found. Likewise, nothing was thrown about. Rather, every item and tool appeared to have been carefully organized and hung in its proper place. Come to think of it, this garage was cleaner than my own apartment. Funny, since neither Simmons’s abode in the Haight nor the other house up here were close to being this orderly. I’d never have fingered Big Daddy for a neat freak.
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