Читаем The Lighthouse полностью

The possibility made her feel hunted and alone. If Cassie had turned against her, too, it meant that Hilliard was completely hostile territory-a place she didn’t dare set foot in again as long as she and Jan remained at the lighthouse.

The wind gusted in off the bay, seemed to blow away the illusion of normalcy that she’d carried with her from Bandon. Now she was depressed. How could she live this way for a full year, treated like an outcast? The answer was, she couldn’t. Something had to be done and done soon.

She started back toward the car. And as she approached it, she saw Mandy Barnett pedaling along the road toward her on a bicycle painted an electric blue, the same color as her Indian poncho and headband. The girl’s face was flushed with exertion and her red curls streamed out behind her. When she glanced up and saw Alix she braked abruptly, seemed about to swing her bike around in a U-turn, then changed her mind and got off and walked it forward.

“Hello, Mandy,” Alix said when the girl turned into the graveled parking lot.

Mandy nodded curtly, kept moving toward the gallery.

“It’s closed today.”

The girl stopped and turned, the beads on her headband clicking with the motion. “Where’s Mrs. Lang?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh. Well, I guess I’ll have to come back tomorrow, then.”

“Did you want to buy something?”

“Birthday present for my mom. Something nice on account of everything being so shitty this year.”

“The merchandise here is pretty expensive, you know.”

“Sure, I know. I’ve got the money.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“That’s none of your business. I’ve got it, that’s all.”

“From selling information to someone else?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means, Mandy.”

“Oh, come on, Mrs. Ryerson!” Mandy’s laugh was false, made shrill and then shredded by the wind. “You don’t think I was serious that day, do you?”

“Yes, I do. You said you had something to sell me. Well, now I might be in the market.” The words came out without conscious thought, and Alix surprised herself further by adding, “I can’t pay you five hundred dollars, but I’m willing to work something out.”

For a moment Mandy’s green eyes glittered calculatingly. Alix was about to reinforce her offer when the girl said, “What is this, anyway-some kind of trick?”

“No trick, Mandy.”

Mandy’s face twisted into a sneer that was incongruous with its baby-like plumpness. “Right. You probably got the state troopers hiding in the bushes. I say yes, and you have me arrested for-what’d you call it? — extortion.”

“You know that’s not possible. How could I have known I’d meet you here? I’m perfectly serious. I want to know what you’re selling.”

“I’m not selling anything. Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not.”

“Look, Mandy-”

“No.” The girl made her characteristic foot-stamping gesture. Then the sneer returned, and Alix had an unpleasant vision of the woman Mandy would one day become. “All of that is past history, okay? I’ve got nothing to sell you, Mrs. Ryerson. Nothing at all.”

Alix said the girl’s name again, but Mandy turned away from her, mounted her bicycle, and pedaled off across the parking area to the road.

Staring after her, Alix thought: Damn her, what does she know? Or what does she think she knows?

She got into the car. She felt even more depressed now. A year of living here, among people like Mandy and Lillian Hilliard and Adam Reese, among circumstances of doubt and distrust, and she’d be a basket case. She couldn’t face eleven more days of it, much less eleven more months.

Why do you have to? she thought then.

Why don’t you leave now, you and Jan? Leave Cape Despair, Hilliard, the state of Oregon, and go home to Palo Alto?

But even as she thought it, she knew Jan would never agree. For years he had planned this lighthouse sabbatical, this time in which to set down on paper the fruit of all his research and study. He would never allow circumstances, no matter how grim, to cheat him out of the fulfillment of his dream.

All right, then. But why couldn’t they leave temporarily, for a week or two, until the furor over the murder died down? Detective Sinclair had told them to check in if they planned to leave, but he hadn’t confined them to the area. They could drive up the coast into Washington; Jan had a colleague in Seattle with whom he’d corresponded for years, and they had an open invitation to visit, had always intended to but never gotten around to it. Seattle was supposed to be an interesting city; the new environment would take their minds off the events here, allow them both to relax, regain some perspective.

It wouldn’t be easy to convince Jan to make the trip, would, in fact, take a good bit of maneuvering; but right now the method didn’t matter. She’d think of something. And while they were away, she’d contact Dave Sanderson as soon as he returned from his convention and find out about those headaches of Jan’s. And when they came back to Cape Despair, enough time would have passed so that the rest of their stay would at least be tolerable for her.