The Night Visitors(29)

Protocol would have suggested I keep her talking and then, if I still thought she was a suicide risk, call one of the suicide intervention services available in the county. Instead I drove her home to my place and we sat up the rest of the night eating popcorn and talking. I told her about the year I spent in JD when I was fourteen and I told her about Caleb. I told her the truth about what happened the night my family died. She was the first—and last—person I ever told the whole story. Sometime around dawn, when we were both falling asleep on the big couch in the parlor, I asked her if she was still thinking of killing herself, and she said, “No, I think you’re a bigger suicide risk than I am. I’ll stick around as long as you need me.” We made a pact then that if either of us was ever thinking about killing herself she’d tell the other first.

“Are you telling me,” I ask her now, “that it was a mistake to take you home that night?”

“No,” she admits. “You saved my life. But I worry about this woman and boy—”

“There’s nothing wrong with the boy,” I snap.

“Noooo—” She draws out the word. “He’s a sweetheart. Smart as a whip. He reminds me of Gavin . . .”

Her voice trails off and I see that there are tears in her eyes. Of course, I think, Oren’s brought it all back up for her. The way her son changed in the following years. The problems in school, the drugs, rehab, juvenile detention, and then rehab again. She hasn’t heard from him in over a year.

“You wouldn’t want Alice to lose him,” I say. “You wouldn’t want Oren to end up in JD.”

It’s not fair to use the threat of JD, a threat my parents held over my—and later Caleb’s—head all my life. It’s not fair but I can see right away that it works. She shakes her head. “No, no, of course not. But let me call Frank. You’ll all be in danger if the father comes looking for them.”

“He won’t,” I say quickly, relieved that Doreen hasn’t heard about the dead man in New Jersey—or if she has she hasn’t connected him to Alice and Oren. “He doesn’t know where they are.”

Doreen looks skeptical. “You know how many times we’ve had a woman call her ex and tell them exactly where they are.”

“She doesn’t have a cell phone,” I say. “And it’s only for one night. Where else are they going to go?” I look out the window and see that it has begun to snow. Heavy feathery flakes fill the air with silver light. When I look back at Doreen I see that silver light showing up every line and shadow on her face. I wonder when she last slept. “You should take the night off,” I add. “Let Alana and the Bard student man the phones.”

“I could come back with you,” Doreen offers.

I don’t want her there, I realize. I want Oren to myself. I want him to tell me about that voice he heard, the one that told him where to find Yoda.

“I think you should go home and get some sleep,” I say. “We’ll talk in the morning. Okay?”

Doreen nods, her eyes on the falling snow. “Sure,” she says, “just . . .”

“I know,” I say, already turning away, anxious to beat the storm back to the house. “I’ll be careful.”

I pick up my poncho from the floor. When I turn back Doreen is still standing at the window, a dark silhouette against the swirling snow, looking as insubstantial and spectral as the ghost I’m seeking.





Chapter Thirteen


Alice


ALL THE WAY back, through the heavy snow, Mattie listens uncomplaining to the long complicated game Oren has dreamed up. It’s something to do with Yoda and Luke having to save Han Solo from the ice caves before Darth Vader gets him. From what I remember of the movie this isn’t exactly what happens, but it’s not unusual for Oren to make up his own story. Scott said that Oren was “working through” his issues by playacting these stories, that Darth Vader stood in for Davis. Sometimes I’m Princess Leia, but today he’s decided that Mattie is the older Princess Leia from the new Star Wars movie and I’m Rey, the kick-ass heroine. That’s okay with me. There have been whole afternoons when I had to pretend to be Chewbacca.

The truth is I’m grateful for Oren’s distraction. There’s no opportunity for me to talk to Mattie, to come clean about Davis. She’d definitely call the police, which is what we should do. Since Davis isn’t dead there’s less of a chance that Oren will end up in juvie for just a stab wound. It’s Davis who will go to jail for killing Scott.

And Oren? Where will Oren go?

“Alice? Earth to Alice. I’m talking to you!”

I turn back to look at Oren. He’s waggling the green Yoda at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Weren’t you listening to me?” Annoyance is seeping back into his voice. I see Mattie flick her eyes toward me, suspicion and distrust etched on her face. She hasn’t trusted me since I pulled Oren’s arm back at the convent.

“I was listening, buddy,” I say, making sure my voice is extra loving and patient. “Luke and Yoda have to save Han Solo from the ice caves while Princess Leia and Rey are marshalling the resistance.”

“But didn’t you hear what I said about Darth Vader?” He kicks the back of my seat for emphasis.