Thomas Perry - Runner

In the early evening she stood at the car rental at the Oakland airport. She turned in the car she had rented in Santa Barbara, then took the shuttle to the terminal. The first flight to the east that had an empty seat to sell her was headed for Atlanta, but she took it. She knew that when she got there she would have to get on a flight to Philadelphia or Newark in order to catch another one for Buffalo. The trip would probably take her the rest of the night and most of the next day, but if she got home by midnight it would still be Saturday, technically.

Jane went through the security checkpoint, watching the crowds, searching for familiar faces. As soon as she was beyond the check-point she went into a ladies' room and put on the blond wig and the outfit she had worn when she had flown to Santa Barbara. On her way to the gate where her flight to Atlanta would be boarding, Jane stopped at a pay telephone and dialed the number of the apartment in Minneapolis.

There was no answer, but the voice mail kicked in. Jane was pleased to hear the generic female voice the phone company had chosen to personify it. "We're sorry, but the customer at this number is not able to answer right now. If you would like to leave a message, begin speaking after the tone." After a few seconds, the tone sounded, and Jane said, "Hi. It's me. I wanted to let you know that I visited your father today. He's fine, and he said to tell you he loves you very much. He understands exactly why you couldn't be there, and that you won't be able to visit in person. He said he wanted to be absolutely sure you knew he didn't blame you for anything that's happened, and he's very glad about his grandchild. I told him how to get in touch with me when he's out. So don't worry about him. I should tell you that there was a woman waiting in the parking lot of the prison when I came out, and she tried to follow me to you. She had long hair—dyed an unnatural black. I suppose it could be a wig. I'll see you in a couple of months. Stay safe." She hung up, moved off, and walked past her gate, scanning the waiting areas near it for familiar, unwelcome faces.

17

Andy Beale sat in his study and listened to what Grace Kandinsky, his private detective, had to tell him about her day of watching Richard's hired woman at the prison. After a time he realized that he was sitting with the phone pressed against his ear and wincing. The whole situation had turned into a disaster, in spite of all his advice. It wasn't that difficult, either. Richard's people had known the woman would be coming, and probably bringing Christine with her. All they really had to do was wait outside the prison for her to walk right into their trap. Instead, they had sent one woman to sit in the parking lot to watch for her. Their attempt had been stupid, inadequate, and halfhearted. When she sounded as though she had finished her report, he said, "Is that it?"

"That's it," she said.

"Then you can come home now. Send me a bill."

"You bet I will."

Andy Beale hung up, put on his sport coat, walked out to the car and began to drive. When he reached the freeway and turned south toward La Jolla, Beale only got angrier. Richard had been a disappointment when he was in nursery school, and he had never improved. He had been a mama's boy without being particularly nice to his mother. That probably should have been a sign and a warning. The kid had wanted every bit of Ruby's attention twenty-four hours a day, but when he had her attention, he used it to make her miserable—whining, crying, and complaining.

Throughout childhood, Richard was always too hot or too cold. He was hungry but he hated whatever food she gave him, cranky and sleepy but never willing to go to bed and give everybody a rest. In school he was a bully, but he got beaten up more often than the school's weakest kids because he was so cowardly about only picking on them that he attracted bigger bullies. The reason why Andy and Ruby Beale had started spying on him after he was in high school was that he was so damned sneaky.

Richard was always hiding things he had but wasn't supposed to have, lying about things he did, and pretending he had done things he hadn't. By Richard's junior year in high school, Andy Beale had seen exactly as many fake report cards as real ones. The fakes always arrived early. When the fakes came, Andy would wait a week and call the school to ask that a set of duplicates be sent to his office. He never explained to anyone at the school why it was necessary. Was he supposed to tell them his only son was a liar and a fraud? The purpose of the exercise wasn't to expose Richard's crimes and get him kicked out of school. It was only to allow Ruby and Andy to know what their son was really doing. It always amazed Andy that the false report cards didn't hide anything very serious: All Richard had been concealing was laziness and mediocrity.

In certain dark moods, Andy Beale had even considered the discrepancies between the real and the fake cards amusing. Richard always found it necessary to make himself into a phenomenon, a straight-A student who inspired flattering comments from teachers, even though there was no space on the card for them. In this Richard apparently had only been imitating his teachers' actual practice. Now and then an exasperated teacher would scrawl in a margin, "Seldom came to class!" or "Failed midterm for violation of honor code!"

Upon reflection, what Andy Beale objected to most wasn't Richard's sneakiness. It was his stupidity, his lack of foresight. If Richard gave himself straight As, didn't he realize his mother would expect him to be valedictorian? Didn't he realize that she expected him to be admitted by every college he applied to? No, Richard didn't think that far ahead. Everything he did was for temporary advantage, or even a brief reprieve from work.

Being Richard's father was heartrending for Andy Beale. He felt that Richard deserved to get caught, but he couldn't bring himself to rat on his own son. Telling school administrators what a little shit Richard was would cause Ruby terrible pain and, if she found out who had told, make her angry at Andy in a way he would never overcome. He was afraid her resentment would eventually lead to the end of the marriage. As the offenses Andy knew about accumulated, he became paralyzed. If the school ever found out, then Richard would lose the most precious possession of all, the opportunity to change. He would always remain a bully, a sneak, a loafer, a coward. So Andy had let him go on, hoping that as Richard matured, he would improve. It had, in the end, been the worst thing he could have done. Richard had only grown from a little snake to a big one.

The one change during Richard's time in college was that Ruby had gradually given up. One day when Richard was in college at San Diego State, she had gone to visit him at his off-campus apart ment. She knew the way and had a key because it was a unit in an apartment complex that belonged to the Beale Company. She had called ahead and told him she was going to take him out for a nice dinner. When she got there, he was gone. He had stood her up. She had called and come back the next day. He had stood her up again. He had treated her that way on her birthday. Richard had kept doing things like that over and over. He was always too busy to see his mother, but he compiled an academic record so dismal that it astounded Andy that Richard didn't flunk out. He would stop answering his phone, and then Andy would find that someone had charged a vacation for two in Hawaii to Ruby's credit card number. There were bills for an incredible number of dinners, trips, even charges at jewelry stores, but no steady girlfriend that Andy ever saw.

Richard had always had trouble with women. What man hadn't? But his trouble was always peculiar. Richard had inherited Ruby's eyes and facial structure, so he was a very good-looking man. He had inherited Andy's physique. He looked the way Andy had forty years ago—flat stomach, broad shoulders—and he was reasonably light on his feet. He was very good at attracting women, but terrible at keeping them once he had them. After a short time with Richard they always left. Andy wondered if women were taking advantage of Richard.