The Kind Worth Saving (Henry Kimball/Lily Kintner, #2)(75)

Again, there was a pause. I could sense that she was very close to just telling me to fuck off and hanging up the phone. If she did, there wasn’t much I could do about it. Before she could speak, I said, “I’m sorry this sounds so mysterious. I don’t mean to spook you, but it’s important. Is there a place near you we could meet, maybe even a park or something? I’d come to you.”

“Okay, sure. What’s your name again?”

“Oh, great. Thank you, Joan. My name is Addie. Like I said, we haven’t met, but it would be great to talk with you. Is there a good time?”

“I could meet you this afternoon.”

“Oh, my God. That would be amazing,” I said. “Just pick a place and I’ll be there.”

“There’s a state park near me, called Endicott Farms.”

“Okay, I can find it.”

“It has two entrances, one that brings you to a trailhead and one that brings you to a petting zoo and a farm stand. I’ll meet you at the trailhead parking lot.”

“Sounds perfect. What time?”

“I could do four o’clock if that works for you. How will I recognize you?”

I laughed and told her that I’d recognize her. I could tell I was making her nervous, but I also knew that she was interested. And being interested in something usually trumps being nervous about something.

With some time to kill I walked slowly back to Henry’s apartment. Along the way I called the landline at Monk’s House and my father picked up.

“Everything going all right, Dad?” I said.

“Ah, Lil. When are you coming back?”

“Soon, I hope. Is Mom feeding you?”

“Mostly salads, but she made some spaghetti last night. Lil, I was looking for a book and couldn’t find it.”

“What book was that?”

“The one I was reading a while ago, and now I’ve just forgotten its name. It was by that Scottish writer, and it was in diary form . . .”

“Was it Any Human Heart?” I said.

“That’s the one.”

“Check the side table by the yellow chair in the living room, and if you don’t see it there then I’d look on the coffee table on the back porch.”

“Oh, here’s your mother. She wants to say something.”

My mother told me that the rabbits had eaten all her savoy cabbage.

“They probably need it more than we do,” I said.

“I know you’re joking, Lily, but rabbits will eat anything. When are you coming home? Can I have you pick some things up?”

“That’s why I called. I’ll be back soon but don’t know exactly when. Are you two going to survive without me?”

“Your father can’t find anything, but he did agree to clean the low gutters on the north side of the house.”

“I’ll do that when I get back. Dad shouldn’t go anywhere near a ladder unless you’re trying to kill him.”

“Well . . . ,” my mother said.

I had reached Henry’s apartment building and told my mother I needed to go and that I would call them back as soon as I knew when I was coming home. On the second-floor landing of the apartment building, as I was inserting a key into the door, a middle-aged woman emerged from the other apartment, holding a miniature poodle in the crook of her free arm. “Oh,” she said, when she saw me.

I smiled at her. “Sorry, I should have let you know I’d be in here. I’m Henry’s girlfriend, Addie. I’m looking after Pyewacket.”

“Oh,” the woman said. “How is he doing?”

“He’s critical, still,” I said, “and unresponsive. I think we’re all hopeful that he’ll be okay.”

“Do you know what happened to him? Not what happened to him, I mean, but why it happened to him?” The woman was short and stout, with dyed blue hair and granny glasses. Her dog stared at me with distrustful eyes.

“I know nothing, and they tell me nothing.” I could hear Pye meowing on the other side of the door, so I opened it.

“If you need anything,” the woman said, and I smiled at her before shutting the door.

After checking Pye’s food dish I pulled my bag out from under its hiding place and picked an outfit to wear for the afternoon meeting. I put on the flannel skirt, deciding that it was warm and sunny enough outside that I didn’t need to wear tights. I looked through my temporary tattoos, picking two—one a line drawing of Chucky the doll with the words Let’s play and one of an ornate dagger, part of its blade missing so it would look like it was piercing my skin—and put them on the front of my thighs so that they’d be visible under the hem of my skirt. It was a little much, I thought, but if I was hoping to get Joan to talk with me, then it wouldn’t hurt if I looked like someone unbothered by the idea of killing.

I stood in front of the mirror before leaving the apartment, looking at myself in my disguise, and had a moment of total lucidity, understanding something about illusion and reality that passed as soon as it had made itself known to me. I stepped in closer and really looked at my face. I had put on a lot of eye makeup, and I did feel transformed. I wondered why I was doing this, then remembered that it was Henry who had badly wanted to discover the truth of who Joan really was. I was just doing a favor for him. And Henry was the reason I was not spending the remainder of my life behind bars. He deserved a favor.