The Old Man(23)

9


In the morning he woke to the sight of both dogs’ big brown eyes, full of sincerity, staring into his from a few inches away. When he lifted his head, they lifted theirs and rolled to sit up, their tails drumming on the mattress in a syncopated beat.

“Good morning, Carol. Good morning, Dave.” He sat up too, went into his bathroom, and then came back to the bedroom, drying himself from his shower. It was early, so he decided to take the dogs to the park. He would buy coffee and a pastry at the place where he and Zoe had gone a couple of days ago.

When he was dressed he went down the front stairs with the dogs to give them a chance to relieve themselves, and then brought them back up the kitchen stairs to have their breakfast.

He found Sarah sitting at the table beside a plate painted with the bright yellow of an egg yolk and a cup of tea with the bag’s string hanging out of it. In front of her was a laptop computer.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning. I see you’re an early riser,” she said.

“So are you.”

“I’m in school, so I have to study whenever nothing more interesting is going on.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I just have to feed these two, and they eat fast. Then we’ll be off to the park.”

“You sure walk your dogs a lot.”

“They like it and it’s good for them. It’s also good for me.”

She looked at him with an appraising stare. “I suppose it would be, at your age. You’re retired, right? Do you do anything else?”

He measured the cups of dry food into the two dog bowls, set them down, and then refilled the water bowl. As the dogs began to crunch their food he said, “I don’t know. I haven’t been in town long. I’m still exploring the Chicago area and getting used to it. I don’t really feel in a hurry to do more than that right now.”

“Do I seem nosy?”

“It’s okay. Curiosity is a sign of a lively mind. That’s the only kind worth having.”

She said, “I spent some time last night online trying to find out about you. I didn’t find much.”

He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise. “I’m not famous.”

“No,” she said. “Never dated Marilyn Monroe or anybody like that, either.”

“I’m not that old. She died when I was in elementary school. Why did you decide I was worth the investigation?”

“Because you’re fucking my mother.”

He was silent for a second, and then wondered if he had just stood there during that second with his mouth open. “What makes you think that?”

Sarah shrugged. “I noticed as soon as I got here that she was very chirpy. She’s also dieting, and doing a better job with her makeup and hair. And her voice was different when she talked to you.” She paused. “And so on.”

“She’s just happy. Her daughter is home.”

Sarah said, “This isn’t my home. Or hers either, really. Look, I watched her when she talked about you. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve tentatively decided to approve. She’s a magnificent person, and she seems to feel better than she has since she divorced my father.”

Caldwell recovered from the shock. “I’m glad that you appreciate her and want her to be happy. That confirms some good things she said about you. But you should direct any questions to your mother. Not me.”

“My questions aren’t about her. They’re about you.”

“Well, save them up, and I’ll do my best to satisfy your curiosity when we have time. Right now we’ve both got things to do—study and take the dogs out. See you later.” He went to the front door and took the leashes off the hook. “Bye.”

“Should I have said, ‘Welcome to the family’?”

“Not very funny,” he said.

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

He closed the door behind him and walked the dogs toward the park. He was feeling an uneasiness that grew with each step. First he’d had the scare with the attempted robbery last night. He had come through it all right, but he had barely stopped himself from killing someone who was barely a legal adult, and the experience had left him anxious. Now there was Sarah.

Sarah seemed more dangerous right now than the teenager with the revolver. She had immediately figured out that he and Zoe weren’t just sharing an apartment. She had sensed that there was something about him that was off, and researched him online. There wasn’t enough online about any one of the real Peter Caldwells to satisfy her.

He had chosen the name partly because there were so many of them, and they lived all over the country and in a few foreign countries. It would be hard for anyone to say he wasn’t one of them. But many had social media accounts with photographs. Some had articles about them with pictures: PETER CALDWELL APPOINTED TO GOVERNOR’S COMMISSION. PETER CALDWELL MARRIES NANCY STANHOPE. PETER CALDWELL TAKES HOLY ORDERS. He just hoped there wasn’t one that said PETER CALDWELL CHARGED WITH MURDER.

Sarah was bright, she was protective of her mother, and she wasn’t shy about asking about other people’s personal lives. Even stupid people in her age group were expert at using online sources to find out whatever they wanted. A bright law student like Sarah probably knew ways to search that he’d never heard of. She had already learned how shallow his cover as Peter Caldwell was. How long before she decided to get someone with access to law enforcement databases to dig deeper?