The Old Man(36)

“Really?” She took the phone.

“Yes. Tell her that you’re leaving the country for a while. Tell her not to call the police, and not to go to your apartment for any reason. Tell her to let your son know you’re okay, and your ex-husband. Tell her you’ll call when you’re back.”

When she was finished, he took the phone apart and tossed the pieces beside the road, one by one.

After another two hours on the road he stopped again and they ate a snack while they let the dogs run. As they were preparing to leave again she said, “I’d like to call you Hank. Is that all right?”

“I guess so. Why?” He let the dogs jump in and closed the back door.

“You look more like a Hank to me. And you were always more of a Pete than a Peter, too. I would have told you eventually.” She got behind the wheel of the car and held out her hand for the keys. “Nobody else will call you Hank but me.”

He got in beside her. “You know we’ll probably be dead very soon.”

“It was never going to end any other way. Lovers all die. And no matter when, it was always going to be sooner than we wanted.”





13


Three days later at dusk Henry Dixon pulled the BMW into the deserted parking lot for a small vista point off Route 9N on the west side of Lake George in upstate New York. Henry and Marcia Dixon were a few minutes early for the rendezvous, so Henry fed his dogs and let them run free for a while. They sniffed everything in the area with special attention to the trash barrels, and then trotted off to investigate the trees and brush around the lot, but kept returning to Henry and Marcia, who were out of the car and on their feet after a day of driving. Henry knew that they could tell he was sad about something, but they couldn’t imagine what made him sad. They smelled no enemies, and their noses told them nothing nearby had died.

The black BMW was pulled back near the hillside leading down from the main road hidden from view. Henry and Marcia were quiet, waiting.

When Emily’s Volvo turned down the drive and coasted into the lot, Henry stood still and watched. Emily stopped, turned the car around to face the driveway, and backed up close to the BMW before she parked and got out. She wore jeans and a bulky sweater and a pair of loafers, and her hair was pulled back tight, so the dark hair she inherited from her mother looked shiny and perfectly smooth.

The boys pushed the back door open, ran to their grandfather, and hugged him. Henry swung Adam, the eight-year-old, into the air and held him for a moment, and then put him down. He did the same to Mark, the six-year-old. The two eager dogs galloped up, bumped their shoulders against the boys, ran a few steps off, and then ran back to them. They had always loved the boys’ visits to the house in Vermont.

His daughter stepped up and hugged him. “Hi, Dad,” said Emily. “I’m so glad I got a chance to see you in person, and not just pick up Dave and Carol somewhere after you’ve driven off.”

“I’m glad to see you too,” he said. “But I can’t believe you brought the boys with you. You know this is a very dangerous place to be.”

Emily shrugged. “Mothers have to make impossible decisions. I decided I had to put them at risk for these few minutes. I want them to remember this.” Emily kissed her father’s cheek, then let go of him and turned her head. “You’re Zoe?”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s not going to be my name after this. I’m working on getting used to the new one.”

“I’m glad to meet you,” Emily said.

When her father moved off to play with the boys and the dogs, she said, “He told me on the phone that you were still with him. I never thought you would decide to do this. Nobody would have blamed you for walking away. Least of all, him.”

Marcia Dixon shrugged. “He wanted me to leave, but here I am. It doesn’t matter why, does it?”

“No,” said Emily. “But when it gets to be time, he’ll probably sense it. When he says to go, do what he tells you. You won’t be able to save him.”

They were silent after that, watching the boys and their grandfather playing with the dogs for a few minutes, and then Emily said, “Dad?”

He turned and walked back to her. “I know. It’s almost dark. We’ve all got to go soon.” He put his arms around her and held her for a moment. “Thanks for taking Dave and Carol.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll all take great care of them. When you pick them up you’ll see how spoiled they are.”

“Do me another favor, and remind the boys once in a while that I love them.”

“Of course.”

“And give your husband my regards. Oh, what the hell. My love.” He went to the trunk of the BMW, popped it open, took out two big bags of dry dog food and a case of canned food, and carried them to the back of Emily’s car. When she opened the trunk he loaded them in. “Keep it open,” he said, and brought another box from the BMW’s trunk and put it in. “Your next three phones.”

“I figured.”

“They’re not preprogrammed this time. Too risky. But I have the numbers.”

The dogs and boys noticed that something was happening, so they all drew near.

Emily hugged her father tightly and talked so only he could hear. “Never doubt that you gave me a great life. You did. Now get out of here. And be really nice to Zoe, or whatever you’re calling her now. But protect yourself. All she has to do is pick up a phone, and it’s over.”