Kem Nunn - Tapping the Source

“And you’ve known all along that she was my sister.”

“No. Not at first. I had heard her mention a brother, but I had gotten the impression that you were older. Then I got a look at you one morning in that cafe. After that I saw you nosing around down on the beach, sticking out like a goddamn sore thumb. Then I saw you at my party. Bad hick vibes. Lots of paranoia. I began to think that Ellen had lied, or exaggerated, or that there was another brother. Those first questions I asked you that night were intuitive, but you were giving me the right answers. Then there was that bit about somebody ripping off your board. I did a little checking up on the nose rider we found at the ranch, finally ran it down to that kid who had sold it to you.” He stopped to laugh. “Preston must have put the fear of God into that kid; he was still sweating the return of the crazed biker.”

“So why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Hound was still smiling—an obnoxious, knowing sort of smile now. “A good game always makes life a little more interesting. I could see that you were playing one. I decided to let you play your hand. But what makes you think I took your sister to Mexico?”

Ike stared back into Hound’s smile, wondering about what to say. Should he mention those combs? Or perhaps the kid in the white Camaro? Cat and mouse one more time. But then he was set upon by the sudden notion that the combs should go unmentioned, at least for the moment. “Someone told us,” he said. “A guy drove out to the desert and told us that Ellen had gone to Mexico with some guys from Huntington Beach, that she had not come back.”

“He said I took her?”

Ike tried to pick his words carefully. “Just that she went, that you might know what happened.”

“Who was he?”

“I don’t know.”

Hound appeared genuinely puzzled for a moment. “I would say you were lied to, brah. I don’t know why. Your sister was on the run, Ike, from the desert, from the people who raised her, from you.” He let that last word hang there for a moment between them, and then went on. “She passed through,” he said. “We had a few laughs.”

“Like you had a few laughs with Janet?” Ike could feel that adrenaline surge building once again, but he didn’t like the way the conversation was going. Hound was simply putting him together, laying down bullshit, as Ike had always known he would. He just wanted to wipe that smile off Hound Adams’s face one more time.

It worked. Hound came a step closer, so that his chest was almost touching Ike’s, but the smile was gone. “You’re pushing it, aren’t you?” he asked. “I don’t know what you think you’re hip to about Janet, and I don’t know who told you, but I’ll tell you something about her, and about your sister. And about Preston, too, as far as that goes. They all chose, man. Their own paths. They chose what they wanted. Your sister could have stayed. I liked her. She chose differently. Janet chose too.”

“And what did she choose?” But even as he was asking he realized that he had not been specific. Janet or Ellen? He waited on Hound.

“She chose to die,” Hound said. His voice was softer now and when it fell away the room was very quiet. “Death because she was afraid of life,” he added. “You see, things got complicated for her that time in Mexico. They were not really that way. Only in her own head.” Hound paused and tapped his temple. “Things were not complicated; they were new, for all of us. It was a voyage of discovery, brah. I mean that. And Janet was there with us. She began very free and loving, but she made the mistake of stopping, of falling back on the thoughts of others. She stopped listening to her own heart.” He shrugged. “And it killed her.” He looked past Ike and into the blackness of the window. “Now maybe you can see more about what I was trying to tell you that day in your room—that business about letting others do your thinking. It’s all in here,” he said, and stabbed at Ike’s chest with his hand, hard enough to be uncomfortable. “You see, most people never make the kind of trip I’m talking about. They never even start out. What they really do is spend their lives hiding from themselves. And because of that—and because they’re the ones who set the standards, it’s a lonely trip, Jack. You’re out there on your own and it can get weird and I’ve seen people flipped out by it. They get halfway, man, and they lose faith. They can’t handle it. Janet couldn’t handle it. Preston sure as hell couldn’t handle it. With Janet the complications began around something as simple as not knowing who the father of her child was.” He stopped and shrugged once more. “But it’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. This is your trip, brah. And it’s your choice.”

Ike waited for Hound to go on, to say more about the choice, but he didn’t. Hound turned away from the window in silence and retreated a few steps into the center of the room. When he turned once more, his voice had taken on a more conversational tone. “You know, Milo likes you,” he said. “And you’ve done all right this summer—with one minor exception that need not be mentioned. You’ve done as well as could be expected. I mean, we’ve worked pretty well together, haven’t we? And I could use someone new around the shop. I don’t mean just working there, I mean really looking after things. I want to travel some more, but I want to know things are in good hands when I’m gone.”

“What about Frank?”

Hound made that shrugging motion once more. His reply was surprising. “Frank’s a loser,” Hound said. “I mean, he’s around. That’s all. Shit. He’s always been around. But you want to know something? Frank Baker doesn’t even have his own key to that damn gate out there. I could swing that for you. I mean it, brah. Your own goddamn key. You could have it all, man.” And he nodded into the blackened window beyond which the forests and ocean were now invisible, so that it seemed to Ike that Hound spoke only of the darkness. “But remember what I told you, brah. You’ll have to choose. Think about it.”

Hound left then. He went out into the hall and left Ike alone in Milo Trax’s study. He left the door ajar and Ike watched a thin shaft of yellow light fall across the carpet to break upon the polished leather of his shoes.

Ike walked to Milo’s desk and turned on a lamp. The light made mirrors now of the tall arched panes of glass that faced the sea, and in them Ike could see himself reflected, a stranger in expensive clothes. So what, he thought, if he made that choice right now? What if when Milo returned there were two sets of expensive clothes on the floor of his study? And what if by then Ike and Michelle were already gone? Down to the beach and up through the ravine. There was still some money left in Huntington Beach, enough for bus tickets. By morning they could be on their way to another place. Anywhere. It didn’t really matter. He would tell Preston, and they would keep in touch, and if anything was ever found, Preston would let him know. It would be as Preston had said. He went out of the room and into the hall.

There were noises in the house now that he had not noticed in the room. Someone was playing music in one of the outside patios, and there were voices—Milo’s guests, he supposed. The party had begun.

Most of the voices were indistinct and drifted to him from remote parts of the house. One voice, however, made itself separate and he recognized it as Milo’s. The voice was closer than the others, suddenly almost below him, and he stepped to the railing that lined the balcony to look down.

He was above the stone entry upon which he and Hound and Michelle had stood earlier in the day. There were four men below him now. Hound, Milo, and two other men he had not seen before. One of the men was wide and dark. He stood slightly apart from the others with his hands at his sides. The other man was tall and rather thin, but wiry and tan. He wore white slacks and a blue blazer jacket. Above the jacket, his hair was a very fine shade of gray—nearly silver, beneath the lights of the entry. The two strangers had apparently just arrived and were being escorted into the house by Milo and Hound. They passed almost directly below Ike and Milo’s voice reached him once more, clearly enough to be heard distinctly.