19
Vega pressed her sleeve against one eye while she kept the other on the road. She was still crying and didn’t know why anymore; she’d stopped beating the shit out of herself trying to find out because it took too much time. So she drove with blurry eyes and damp sleeves on the streets buckled from the old coal mine where she saw an old mattress on the sidewalk, and then to the neighborhood where there were nail salons and a cheese shop, and then to an undeveloped stretch of land where there was a green-and-brown field that didn’t appear to belong to anyone, no houses there, and then she came to the Sherwood Forest subdivision, the monument sign marking the entrance made of staggered bricks, or more likely foam core boards cut to look like staggered bricks, and there was Cap under a tree, leaning against his car.
He waved two fingers at her, and she U-turned and parked next to him. She wiped her eyes one more time and got out.
“Hey,” said Cap. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” said Vega. “What do you want to do?”
Cap looked toward the houses in the cul-de-sac.
“Walk.”
He started to walk, and Vega didn’t move. She grabbed the cuff of his jacket sleeve, and he stopped and looked at her, surprised. He didn’t pull away.
“Stacy Gibbons reminded me of my mother,” she said. “It made me upset.”
Cap listened, nodded.
She also nodded, agreeing with herself. She let go of his sleeve and patted the skin under her eyes.
“You have more than ten rounds in that piece-of-shit antique under your belt?”
Cap smiled.
“Twenty.”
They began to walk, and it began to snow. Not the real stuff that people had to dig out with shovels but little twirling flurries—Snow Lite. It was spinning around them and landed on Vega’s hands and face, but she didn’t feel it, exactly. That is to say, she knew it was supposed to be cold, but she didn’t feel the cold when it hit her skin. Maybe because it dissolved so quickly, and maybe because she was just a little bit outside of her body just then. And she didn’t look at Cap but saw him peripherally, and he was with her. They were, both of them, ready and not ready. She felt like she had already done what they were about to do, one hundred times. Had she? She had to think about it. She had to focus. This was the house. They were right in front of it. All they had to do was go up the narrow path to the door.
“What should we do?” she asked Cap.
He didn’t turn to face her. He blinked against the snow. He nodded his head.
“Ring the doorbell,” he said.
She looked at his profile, chin out, nearing something like pride or courage, as if he knew exactly what they were about to find. Vega knew he didn’t know a thing, no more than she did, but she realized his being proud or brave, even if it was a trick, was enough for her.
And that thought hadn’t even rounded itself out in her mind before he started up the path to the Linsom house, the lawn still cut even if not yet green, terra-cotta pots lining the walkway with fresh soil and care tags stuck inside, ready to produce flowers for the season. She followed, running a bit behind him. Sensor lights came on at their feet as they stepped, ending with the one above the leaded glass door.
Cap pressed the bell. Vega held her breath; glittery flecks crowded her eyes. When no one came, Cap pressed it again. They waited, looked at each other. Then a figure, hazy behind the glass of the door, approached. Cap and Vega stood up straighter.
Lindsay Linsom opened the door. She wore a black silk bathrobe and loosely fitting black pajama pants underneath.
“Mr. Caplan, Miss Vega,” she said, unsurprised. “You’d like to come in.”
It was an odd way to open, thought Vega. Telling them what they’d like, and it being the exact truth.
“Yes, Mrs. Linsom,” said Cap. “We would.”
She held her arm out, presenting the living room, and Cap and Vega walked in. Vega glanced around quickly—everything appeared to be the same as it had been the other day—the white couches, carpets, the glass deer centerpiece, the upright piano with the table clock on top, ticking away.
“You didn’t wake me,” she said, as if they’d asked her. “I don’t sleep anymore, to be truthful. Just rest my eyes now and then.”
She sat on one of the couches.
“Would you like to sit?”
“I don’t think so,” said Cap. “Were you expecting us, ma’am?”
“Expecting someone,” she said. “You or police, or the FBI. Someone. I thought it might be you. I guessed, actually,” she said, holding a finger to her lips, pleased with herself. “I kept telling Press we didn’t have to worry about you, but I had a feeling about it. I get feelings about things, and I’ve learned to trust them.”
She looked up at them, taking them in, nodding to herself, like they were dresses on a pair of mannequins.
“And why…were you expecting us?” said Cap.
Vega’s neck tightened; she bent her arm like a wing so she’d be able to pull the Springfield more quickly.
“You found Bailey this morning,” said Mrs. Linsom. “I knew it wouldn’t be long. That’s what happens, unfortunately, when too many people are involved. Too many chiefs and not enough Indians.”
Vega made herself breathe now, in and out through the nose. She knew there was something very wrong here, in this house, with this woman. Even someone who had resigned herself to being caught would not be as relaxed, confident. When Mrs. Linsom looked at Cap, Vega peered out of the corner of her eye, trying to see around the room as best she could without turning her head.
“Mrs. Linsom,” said Cap, keeping it quiet and civil. “You seem to want to tell us something. Why don’t you get that off your chest.”
“That’s kind of you to offer,” she said, sincere. “There’s a lot to say, though, and none of us has a lot of time.”
What does that mean? thought Vega. Why don’t we have time?
“So,” she said, rubbing one palm against the other like she was sanding something. “I knew the girls kept those notebooks in that tree. I’d watched them from the window in the kitchen a dozen times.”
Vega imagined Kylie and Cole in the backyard, writing in pink and purple pens. She looked over Kylie’s shoulder, saw her circling Evan Marsh’s name, his real name.
“I’d taken out the page before you came. That’s really how it all started,” said Mrs. Linsom. “Kylie had written Evan’s name down.”
She seemed lost in a dream, and then she looked at Cap and Vega and must have seen their bewilderment.
“She wasn’t what we were looking for, you understand?” she said. “She’s…heartier than Cole, bigger. A mature girl, like a teenager.”
“Ma’am?” said Cap. “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to back up for us. We’re not sure what you mean.”