Sam hesitated. "Peter."
"Is he a nice boy?"
"Linda--"
"Is he a nice boy, I asked."
"Linda, you think it wasn't so bad back then, in the Family. And you're right. But not because of Daniel. Because of us. We filled all those gaps in our lives that Rebecca was talking about. We helped each other! And then it fell apart and we're back to where we started. But we can help each other again! Like real sisters." Sam leaned forward and gripped the Bible. "You believe in this, right? You think things happen for a purpose. Well, I think we were meant to get back together. To give us this chance to fix our lives."
"Oh, but mine is perfectly fine," Linda said evenly, pulling the Bible away from Sam's trembling fingers. "Work on yours as much as you want."
*
Daniel Pell parked the Camry in a deserted lot off Highway 1, near Carmel River State Beach, beside a sign that warned of the dangerous waters here. He was alone in the car.
He caught a whiff of Jennie's perfume.
Slipping his pistol into a pocket of the windbreaker, he climbed out of the car.
That perfume again.
Noticing Jennie Marston's blood in the crescent of his nails. He spit on his fingers and wiped it, but couldn't remove all of the crimson stain.
Pell looked around at the meadows, the cypress and pine and oak woods and the rugged outcroppings of granite and Carmelo formation rock. In the gray ocean sea lions, seals and otters swam and played. A half-dozen pelicans flew in perfect formation over the uneasy surface, and two gulls fought relentlessly for a scrap of food washed up on the shore.
Head down, Pell moved south through the thick trees. There was a path nearby but he didn't dare take it, though the park seemed deserted; he couldn't risk being seen as he headed for his destination: the Point Lobos Inn.
The rain had stopped but the overcast was heavy and more sprinkles seemed likely. The air was cold and thick with the scent of pine and eucalyptus. After ten minutes he came to the dozen cabins of the inn. Crouching, he circled to the rear of the place and continued, pausing to get his bearings and look for police. He froze, gripping his gun, when a deputy appeared, surveyed the grounds, then returned to the front of the cabin.
Easy, he told himself. Now's not the time to be careless. Take your time.
He walked for five minutes through the fragrant misty forest. About a hundred yards away, invisible to the cabins and the deputy, was a small clearing, inside which was a shelter. Someone sat at a picnic bench underneath it.
Pell's heart gave an uncharacteristic thud.
The woman was looking out over the ocean. A pad of paper was in her hand, and she was sketching. Whatever she was drawing, he knew it would be good. Rebecca Sheffield was talented. He remembered when they'd met, a cool, clear day by the beach. She'd squinted up from the low chair in front of her easel near where the Family had a booth at a flea market.
"Hey, how'd you like me to do your portrait?"
"I guess. How much?"
"You'll be able to afford it. Take a seat."
He looked around once more and, not seeing anyone else, made his way toward the woman, who was oblivious to his approach. Wholly focused on the scenery, on the motion of her pencil.
Pell closed the distance quickly, until he was right behind her. He paused.
/> "Hello," he whispered.
She gasped, dropped the pad and stood, turning quickly. "Jesus." A moment of silence.
Then Rebecca's face lurched into a smile as she stepped forward. The wind slapped them hard and nearly carried off her words, "Damn, I missed you."
"Come here, lovely," he said and pulled her toward him.
Chapter 46
They'd moved into the grove of trees, so there was no chance of being spotted by anyone at the motel.