The Night Parade(88)

“Are you Uncle Tim’s girlfriend?” Ellie piped up from the backseat.

“You know,” Gany said, drumming fingertips on the Caddy’s steering wheel, “that is a spectacular question. You should remember to ask your uncle exactly that when you see him. I’d love to hear the response.”

“I don’t understand you,” Ellie said.

“Story of my life, dear heart,” said Gany.

“What else did he say about us?” David asked.

“Nothing. He just said to take the Caddy and pick you guys up. He said if you weren’t there when I got there, I should wait. Give you a few hours. He thought you might be late, but you weren’t. Not too late, anyway. Oh—” she said, interrupting herself, “one more thing. Do you have your cell phone on you?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s take a peek-see.”

David dug it out of his pocket and handed it to her. “I’ve been careful not to—”

Gany rolled down the window and flipped the phone out into the darkness.

“What the hell?” David said.

“Tim said to lose the phone. So now it’s lost.”

“Jesus. There might have been info on there that I needed.”

“Was there?”

He considered this. “I guess not.”

“Besides, I wouldn’t have let you turn it on. Tim was very adamant about that—‘Do not let him turn on that phone. Get rid of it. Don’t f*ck around with the phone.’ Oops, sorry about the language, honey pie. I’m just quoting your uncle.”

“I’ve heard ‘f*ck’ before,” said Ellie.

“Hey,” David said, leering at his daughter from over his shoulder. Then he turned back to Gany. “I was careful with the phone. I figured they might be able to trace it if I was on it.”

“I assume you mean the federal government,” Gany said. “In that case, they don’t even need for you to be using it. Just having it is a liability. Did you know that the Feds have a device that can turn any cell phone into a listening device? Like, an actual microphone?”

“Jesus,” David said. “No, I didn’t.”

“Of course, on the other hand, you’ve got some things playing in your favor right now, too.”

“Do I? By all means, fill me in.”

She glanced at him, an expression on her face that suggested he might not fully grasp the entirety of the situation. “For one thing, David, the whole world is falling apart, in case you haven’t noticed. The government has a lot more important things to worry about than to track down you and your kid, no matter what you’ve done.”

“So Tim didn’t say anything about why we needed help?” he asked.

“He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. That’s sort of how we operate in these types of situations.”

“These ‘types of situations’? What’s that mean? How often does something like this come up?”

Gany laughed. It was a pretty sound. David examined her profile. It was too dark to guess her age with any accuracy, but he could tell she was younger than he was. There was no glamour about her—she wore no makeup or jewelry and her fingernails had been gnawed to nubs—but there was an innate attractive quality about her that was unbridled, untamed. What some people called a natural beauty.

“Your brother’s always got his mitts in something or another,” Gany said. “I’d like to say this isn’t the craziest thing I’ve ever helped him with . . .” Here, she paused. Her gaze flirted in his direction again, albeit for just a second or two this time. “Far as I can tell, anyway.”

When he heard light snoring from the backseat, David turned around and found Ellie asleep, sprawled out across the seats, the shoe box wrapped in her arms.

“Your kid asleep?” Gany asked.

“Yeah.”

“You get in a bar fight or something?”

“Huh?”

“Your face. And that bandage on your arm.”

“What happened to asking no questions?”

“Sorry, Charlie. Was just making conversation. It’s a long drive, you know.”

“I know.”

“So . . . bar fight? Please tell me it was an angry bar fight.”

“You should see the other guy,” David said.

Gany put her head back and laughed a silent laugh.

“You said we’re driving straight through without stopping,” David said. “To Wyoming?”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride,” Gany said.

“But you must be exhausted.”

“Not yet, but I’ll get there soon enough. That’s when you’ll take over the driving duties. In the meantime, I suggest you get some shut-eye. I’ll wake you when I start feeling sleepy.”

“I can’t sleep. I’m too wired.”

“Don’t be an *,” she said. She pushed a CD into the player and a moment later, Zeppelin issued through the Caddy’s crackling, overwrought speakers. She lowered the volume so it wouldn’t wake Ellie. “Close them eyes, bugaboo.”

David considered protesting some more. Instead, he reclined the seat, folded his arms over his chest, and shut his eyes. Night air coming through the cracked windows, cool and fresh-smelling, coupled with the melodious caterwauling of Robert Plant, helped usher him to sleep. At one point he thought he woke up and asked Ganymede some question—what it was, he had no idea—but then he realized he was only dreaming, and so he let himself fall into it.