Sue Grafton - U Is For Undertow

“I can understand the kind of pressure he was under.”

“Well, yeah, from his perspective. I’ll tell you what was dumb. I didn’t realize this until later, but in July of ’sixty-seven, Greg was twenty-five years old. Once he turned twenty-six, he’d be off the hook, so all he had to do was wait. I don’t think they were taking married guys, so if he and Mom had been willing to go that far, he’d have been home free. Not that they’d have done anything so pedestrian. They were hippies and way too free-spirited for anything as mundane as a civil ceremony. Anyway, once it was obvious the Unruhs weren’t going to cooperate, we hit the road, which was their solution to just about anything.”

“Why such an abrupt departure?”

“They did everything on impulse, though there might have been something more going on. I heard a lot of heated whispers from the back of the bus. Greg was in a panic.”

“Any idea when that was?”

“Not a clue. I was a kid. What did I know? I remember Mom lobbied hard for San Francisco. There was all this talk about the Summer of Love and she was pissed she’d be missing out. She said it wasn’t like they’d have a posse on their tails. There were thousands of guys ducking the draft, so all they had to do was keep on the move and they’d be fine. Cut no ice with Greg. He was anxious to get out of Dodge, so to speak. As far as she was concerned, that was his problem, not hers. She knuckled under in the end, but not without a lot of knock-down, drag-out fights. You want my take on it, I got the impression somebody called the draft board and dimed him out.”

“If they left empty-handed, what’d they do for money?”

“The usual-panhandled, sold dope, stole stuff. It’s what they always did when they were down and out, which I might add was their permanent state. The trip took weeks because of all the stops we made, scoring cash for gas and food. To this day, I bet I could support myself standing at a four-way stop with a funky cardboard sign.”

“They didn’t turn around and head back to Santa Teresa for any reason?”

“No way. Greg was freaked out. They were happy to be gone.”

“Patrick believed they’d come up with a scheme to get money. He was convinced they never really left town.”

Shawn shook his head. “I’m the only one who ever came back and that was three years ago when I read about Patrick being killed. I wanted to pay my respects.”

“Are you aware that Rain was kidnapped right about the time Greg and Shelly left?”

“Rain was?”

“Less than a week after they took off. The ransom demand was fifteen grand, which Patrick paid. She was returned in good shape and ten days later, the other little girl was snatched. The Unruhs thought Greg and Shelly had a hand in it.”

“Not true. Once we left the States, that was it. Why would Patrick blame them?”

“Because it made sense. At least in his mind. The two were desperate for money. The Unruhs refused and the next thing they knew, Rain was abducted and they were forced to pay. The plan was lame, but Deborah says their brains were addled from all the dope they smoked.”

“Well, that’s a fact. I was stoned half the time myself.”

“At ten?”

“That’s what life was like in those days. Don’t get me wrong. Mom had her principles. Until I turned sixteen, she wouldn’t condone peyote, cocaine, or heroin. She also drew the line at LSD. Very strict, she was. She got into the heavy stuff herself, but not until later.”

“You were homeschooled?”

“That was her claim, but it was BS. She quit school when she was fifteen and pregnant with me. That was ninth grade so she didn’t know enough to teach me anything. I survived by looking after myself. If I’d been a pain in the ass, she’d have dumped me the way she did Rain.”

“When did you last see your mom?”

“She died of AIDS in ’eighty-six. Ugly business. I could have done without that.”

“What about Greg?”

“He died of an overdose when I was fourteen. That’s when Mom and I came back to the States. Mom’s first thought was San Francisco. Man, she was really burning up the road. Of course, the Haight was dead by then, but she was ever hopeful. We lived in Berkeley for a while and then Santa Cruz. Eight months in Mexico and I can’t remember where else. We didn’t stay long in any one place. It was a crappy way to grow up.”

“How’d you end up in Belicia?”

“It was one of our many stops along the way. I met a guy here who handcrafted furniture, and he said he’d mentor me if I was ever interested. By the time I was twenty, I’d had it with all the moving around so I settled here. He taught me everything I know.”

“It looks like you’re doing well.”

“This is true,” he said, with mock modesty.

“How long have you and Memory been together?”

He smiled. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry. I just assumed.”

“She’s my sister.”

“Really? I’m not sure Deborah knows about that.”

“No reason she would. We left Santa Teresa in July. Memory was born in Canada the next April. Greg was pissed about the whole deal. He said the last thing they needed was another mouth to feed. He wanted Mom to put the baby up for adoption, but she was having none of it. They went after that subject hammer and tongs. He said since she’d dumped Rain, she could dump this one, too. Mom wouldn’t budge. Personally, I don’t believe the baby was his.”

“Wow. Whose, then?”

“Who knows? Anyway, if we’ve covered the subject, I’ll get back to work.”

“Sure thing. I may call you later if something new comes up, but for now I appreciate your time. Do you mind if I tell Rain about Memory? I’m sure she knows about you, but I’m guessing she’d want to hear about her sister. Deborah, too.”

“You can tell them anything you like. I’d love to see Rain if she ever has the inclination to come up. Or maybe Memory and I will drive down.”

“If I talk to her, I’ll tell her you said so.”

“Give both of them my love.”

Driving south again I had a lot on my mind. I was still mulling over the account Hale Brandenberg had given me about Grand. When it came to Greg and Shelly’s departure, I confess I felt vindicated. They hadn’t turned around at all, let alone snatched first Rain and then Mary Claire. I understood Deborah’s reasoning, but the points she cited were circumstantial, a crude cause and effect that didn’t hold up to scrutiny. This was the kicker from my perspective: if Greg and Shelly weren’t guilty, then who was?

When I reached the office, I parked, snagged my shoulder bag, and got out of the car, locking it behind me. I noticed a car parked directly across from mine, a sleek white Corvette with a woman in the driver’s seat and a guy in the passenger seat next to her. The sun reflecting off the windshield prevented a clear view of the driver so I shrugged to myself and continued up the walk. I unlocked the office door, and as I was letting myself in I heard two car doors slam in quick succession.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Diana Alvarez moving in my direction. Her male companion was someone I’d never seen before. Oh, joy, I thought. She looked as buttoned-down as ever-loafers, black tights, and a black corduroy jumper worn over a white turtleneck. I could see that any outfit looked spiffier when paired with black tights, and I vowed to add more to my wardrobe. Since I was already the proud owner of two skirts, I’d be all set.

Diana carried a large leather tote, bulging from the weight of an oversized book. “I’m glad we caught you,” she said. “We were just about to take off. This is my brother, Ryan.”

Belatedly I saw the resemblance. The solemn dark eyes were clearly a family trait. “Nice to meet you,” I said.