The Trade

CHAPTER 7

Matt took off the flannel shirt he had on over his T-shirt and stepped forward to wrap it around the child. All he could see was the top of her small dark head. She flinched as he touched her, and the older girl murmured a crooning sound of comfort. She took the shirt from Matt’s hand, knelt and wrapped it around the African child’s body.

“What’s happened to her?” he asked softly. And to the rest of you, but he left those words unsaid. What kind of disaster had brought this strange band into Encinal Canyon?

Darting fearful looks at Matt, the girls exchanged a few words among themselves, until Hasan spoke sharply, driving them back into silence.

“She want mama,” the boy said.

Yes, Matt thought, of course she does. Matt had the sudden image of himself at that same age, watching his mother’s flower-blanketed coffin being carried from St. Aidan’s Church. He took a breath, and the image faded, leaving him feeling as if he had been hit by a two-by-four.

He fumbled in his pants pocket for the energy bar he always kept handy and offered it to the child, but she would not look up. He passed it to the older girl, who unwrapped it, lifted the child’s hand, and pressed her fingers around it until she was sure it would not fall from the child’s grasp. The child broke off a corner, put it into her mouth and handed the rest back. The older girl divided it up, handing a fragment to each of the others, including Hasan who ignored the piece she held out to him. After a moment, she gave it to the little one.

“This little girl needs help,” Matt said. “All of you need help. I will take you to my house, get you some food and clothes.” He looked at Hasan, making a point of including him. “We will talk, and we will decide what to do.”

“Kanita,” the older girl said. She pointed to herself. “Kanita,” she said again. She then pointed to Matt.

More progress, he thought. They were communicating. “You are Kanita.” He enunciated each word carefully. “I am Matt.” He glanced at the closed, hard face of the boy, and turned back to the girl. “Kanita, you cannot stay here.” He pointed to the sky, gestured rain with his hands, hoping she understood. “Rain. Rain is coming. You must get shelter. Come with me. I’ll get help.” And maybe these kids could tell the authorities what they knew about the dead girl, Matt thought, and remove the cloud of suspicion hanging over his head.

Kanita slid a nervous yet defiant look at Hasan then beckoned to Matt and started toward a cluster of large granite boulders. Matt glanced at the boy, then went after her. She led him between the rocks and into a sheltered crawlspace created by a tangle of roots and the limbs of canyon oak trees. Matt peered inside.

A slight solitary figure lay motionless on the ground. Also a teenager, she was dressed similarly to the others, in a beaded tank top and gauzy loose-fitting lavender pants. She lay on a makeshift bed of brown paper grocery sacks spread out on the bare ground.

Matt’s throat tightened and he fought back a wave of panic. Another dead girl? He crawled into the shelter and touched the girl’s hand, and started to breathe again. Her skin was an unhealthy grayish white and clammy, but warm, maybe too warm. Her eyes were closed, her face framed by a mass of dirt-encrusted black hair tangled with bits of leaves and twigs.

“How long has she been like this?”

Kanita frowned and he repeated the question slowly.

“Today, yesterday, tomorrow.” Kanita shrugged as if an explanation of time was beyond her.

He patted the unconscious girl’s hand, hoping to rouse her. He’d have to carry her out and she would be a dead weight to pick up. He turned to Kanita. “What’s her name?”

Kanita shook her head. Matt pointed to himself, to Kanita, repeating their names as he did so. Then he indicated the girl. Kanita patted her mouth, pointed to the girl and shook her head again.

This was getting them nowhere. Matt slid an arm around the girl to lift her into a sitting position.

The girl opened her eyes, deep black eyes that widened in terror at the sight of him. She shoved hard at his chest, scrabbled to get away but managed only a few yards. A long high-pitched keening ripped from her throat.

The skin on the back of Matt’s neck shuddered at the sound. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He managed to quell the instinct to raise the pitch of his own voice and kept his tone low and reassuring. “I’m not going to hurt you. It’s okay.”

Matt quickly ran through his limited options. The girl needed medical treatment. He could go for help, but as as soon as Matt was out of sight, the boy would be gone, dragging the girls with him. And the Santa Monica Mountains were wild enough to swallow up anyone who didn’t want to be found. These kids were a line to the dead girl, and if she were the mother, to the dead newborn. He could not lose track of them.

Kanita was speaking softly to the sick girl, insistently, the same words over and over, in the same unrecognizable language. Kanita held her until she quieted and her agitation softened into a rhythmic rocking motion.

“No immigration. No police,” Kanita said suddenly as if reading Matt’s mind. “No immigration, no police,” she said again, repeating the universally understood words.

“Okay, right, no immigration.”

“No police.”

Matt smiled at her. Brave girl, he thought. Kids shouldn’t have to be this scared. He knew there were children in the world who lived in daily fear, including a primal fear of the authorities, but he’d never seen it up close and raw.

“No police,” he conceded. “No immigration.”

The sick girl continued lying quietly in Kanita’s arms. If he wanted to learn anything more from the older girl, now was the time to ask, with Hasan out of earshot. He leaned toward her. “What happened to Aida?”

Kanita shook her head. “She die.”

“A baby, then die?”

Kanita’s eyes stared unblinkingly into Matt’s before sliding to a point over his shoulder. He turned his head. Hasan stood just feet behind him. Matt hadn’t heard a thing, not the crunch of a twig or the rustle of footsteps through leaves. The kid had approached in absolute silence as if trained in guerrilla warfare.

Kanita motioned to Matt to take the girl in her arms, then scrambled to her feet. Eyes lowered, she scurried past the boy and disappeared around the edge of the rocks. With Hasan watching, Matt put an arm around the limp body, another under her knees and maneuvered her out of the shelter and into the open.

“I’m taking her to a doctor,” Matt said the boy. “I want you all to come with me.”

The boy stood squarely in the narrow defile between the boulders, barring the way.

“If Aida died after giving birth, Hasan, I promise you won’t get into any trouble. It wasn’t your fault, man.” Matt wasn’t sure about the legalities of child abandonment—hell, he wasn’t sure about anything anymore—but that would have to wait. “If you come with me, I’ll explain what happened. I’ll get you all the help you need.”

Hasan stood unmoving.

“Okay, your call,” Matt said.

He squeezed past the rigid figure, made his way back along the path, into the clearing. If they were illegal, they’d need a lawyer, child services, some kind of help. He could feel how tired they were, how much they wanted some relief, someone to care for them.

“Tell them it’s going to be okay, Kanita.” Although he wasn’t sure himself exactly how. “Tell them they should come with me now.”

The slight, slim figure of Hasan appeared in the clearing. His voice, filled with the biting power of rage, swept over the small group of girls.

Matt looked at Kanita. “What did he say?”

She gestured to the girl in Matt’s arms. “Okay, she go.”

“What about you and the others?”

She shook her head.

“Hasan, rain is coming. Let them come with me, man.”

The boy stared without speaking, hatred seeming to emanate from every part of his body.

Matt could feel the girl becoming heavier. He’d hit a dead end, at least for now.

“I’ll be back with food.” He included Hasan in his glance. “No police, no immigration. Stay here. We’ll talk. We’ll work it out, whatever has happened. Whatever it is, Hasan, it can be fixed.”

No one spoke.

One of the older girls put an arm around the ten-year-old and drew her closer.

At least that was something, Matt thought. He turned to go.

CHAPTER 8

As soon as they were out of the canyon, Matt picked up his cell phone, tapped out Phil Halliburton’s private number. He threw a quick glance at the girl, wondering why Hasan had let her go with only a token show of obstruction, unlike the others who needed help almost as urgently. Her eyes closed, she was still leaning against the door of the Range Rover, covered by the blanket he kept in the back for Barney.

“Phil, it’s Matt.”

“Hey, Matt, how are you doing? And that’s strictly a social question. If you have symptoms, take two aspirins and call the office on Monday. Whoops, I forgot. How’s the arm?”

Matt dispensed with a laugh at Phil’s standard joke. He’d known Halliburton since Phil opened his practice in internal medicine in Malibu ten years ago. Their relationship was mainly social, but Halliburton was the guy he saw on the rare occasions he needed a doctor.

“It’s okay, thanks. Phil, can you meet me at my house? I need some help.”

“What’s up?”

“I can’t say right now. I’ll explain when you get there.”

“If it’s a medical emergency, Matt, really, you’re better off calling 911. The paramedics have everything at their fingertips. All I’ve got is my little black bag.”

“No, I need a private doctor. Can you make it?”

A moment of silence. “You’re being very mysterious. Annie and I have plans for tonight.”

“Phil, this won’t take long. Please.”

Another silence. Matt waited him out.

“Okay, but this had better be good.”

“Bring the black bag. I owe you one, Phil.”

He hung up then called the Agoura shelter to tell them something had come up, he’d have to reschedule a time to pick up his two horses. Ten minutes later he drove into his garage. The girl had not moved since he had placed her in the seat and her eyes were still closed. He got out, opened the tailgate for Barney. Before he could go around to the passenger door, the girl slammed it open and was out of the garage, across the road, narrowly missing a passing car.

Shouting at Barney to stay, Matt tore after her. He dragged her off the bank, scooped her against his chest, started back across the street. A few houses away the car had slowed almost to a stop. He put his mouth to the girl’s ear, the words soothing and simple. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Matt crossed the road without looking in the direction of the car, the picture, he hoped, of a young father and his playful teenager, their ecstatic Labrador jumping around them in greeting. He ran along the deck by the side of the house, got the kitchen door open, kicked it closed behind him, and set the girl on her feet.

She backed away, dark hair tangled with leaves and twigs hanging in her eyes, lips bared in a snarl. Dressed as she was in flimsy silk she had to be freezing.

Matt held his hands out to the side. “It’s okay, you’re safe here. I’m not going to hurt you. A doctor is coming, you understand, a doctor?” Keeping his distance, he went to the hall closet, pulled out a blanket, held it out to her. “Put this around you.”

She kept her eyes on him without moving and he tossed the blanket on the back of the sofa that separated the living room from the kitchen. He turned the thermostat up to eighty, then knelt and touched a match to the fire. The gas lighter flared, caught the kindling, flames curled around the logs. He went back into the kitchen, filled the kettle, put it on to boil, keeping up a running commentary to reassure her.

“It will be warmer in here soon. Do you like peppermint tea?” He was completely out of his depth.

He picked up the telephone on the kitchen counter, tapped out Ginn’s number. His heart hammered in his chest while he waited, then her voice, her real voice, was in his ear.

His mouth was suddenly dry. “Ginn, it’s me.”

“Matt, I am going to hang up. Goodbye.”

“No, don’t. Ginn, listen. Please. I need help—”

“Then call your brother, or your father in Palm Springs, or Bobby. Why call me?”

Because I love you. “Because you’re a lawyer, and you’re the only one who can help.”

“Goodbye, Matt.”

Speaking quickly to hold her, he said, “I found some kids today, holed up in a canyon.”

“What?”

“Kids on their own, fourteen, fifteen, suffering from exposure and covered in poison oak. Illegals, I think. A young boy, five girls, one of them a black kid about ten.” He spoke rapidly, trying to convince her before she hung up. “I’ve got one of the girls here now, and she won’t speak. I’ve got to go back to get the others—”

“Are you crazy? Call the authorities. Call Bobby Eckhart. Do it now, before you get any deeper. Goodbye.”

“I can’t, Ginn. They’re illegals, I promised I wouldn’t call the police—” He was speaking to a dial tone.

The kettle was whistling. He rummaged around in the cupboard, found a package of peppermint teabags, dumped a couple in a mug. He covered them with water, spooned in sugar. The girl had not moved. Mug in hand, he started to walk toward her. “Now you sit down and drink this, you’ll feel better—”

She exploded into action, made an end run around him, grabbed a knife from the wooden block on the counter. She backed into the far corner of the living room, wedged herself between the built-in bookcases and the wall. She held the long narrow bladed paring knife in front of her with both hands. It looked as dangerous as a shiv.

“Hey, hey, wait a minute,” Matt said. He put the mug on the end table, and moved toward her. “You don’t need that.” Slowly, he held his hand out for the knife. “It’s very sharp. Come on, give it to me.”

She slashed at him, barely missing his fingers, and he jumped back. He could see the whites of her eyes surrounding the dark iris. She looked like a trapped animal, in shock, ready to kill, ready to die.

Footsteps pounded along the walkway and Matt backed through to the kitchen and opened the door.

“Man, am I glad you’re here.”

“So, what’s up?” Phil Halliburton took off his outer coat, hung it on the coat stand by the door. Early forties, he was tall and slender, well barbered dark hair, the kind of guy who spent time and effort cultivating a polished image. He looked more like a celebrity lawyer than a doctor. He rubbed Barney’s ears while trying to keep the Lab away from his dark slacks. “So what’s the big mystery?”

“There she is,” Matt said.

Halliburton looked at the girl pressed into the angle between bookshelves and wall, then back at Matt. He looked in shock. “Good God, Matt. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. I came across a bunch of kids in Encinal. This one was lying on the ground, looking half-dead, so I brought her home and called you.”

“You what? A bunch of kids? What kids?”

“I don’t know, Phil. Just kids, obviously illegals. It was going to rain, and she looked so sick. I couldn’t leave her.”

“You kidnapped her?”

“No, I didn’t kidnap her. What are you talking about?”

“What else would you call it? Doesn’t look as if she came willingly. What’s that you’ve given her?”

“Peppermint tea, with a lot of sugar. I tried to hand it to her and she grabbed the knife.”

“Matt, you should have left her there, whoever she is, and called the authorities.”

“Yes, well, maybe, but it didn’t seem the thing to do at the time.”

Halliburton crossed the living room, but stopped when the girl jabbed the knife at him. “What’s her name?”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything.” Then Matt remembered the girl Kanita patting her mouth and shaking her head, and he realized why Hasan was willing to let her leave.

“I don’t think she can speak.”

“Can she hear?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure she can.”

Phil looked from the girl to Matt. “Oh, man, you’ve got yourself into one hell of a mess here. Well, if I can get the knife away from her, I can give her a shot, calm her down. Then we can figure out where to go from there.” Halliburton took another step toward her. The girl pressed her back deeper into the corner and kept the knife pointed toward him. “Come on, honey, put down the knife,” he said firmly. He moved closer.

Her eyes locked on his, the girl pressed the point of the blade into the soft place beneath her own chin.

“Back off, Phil,” Matt said. “She’s going to hurt herself.”

Halliburton ignored him. “Now, you’re not going to do that, are you, honey? Come on, be a good girl, put the knife on the table.”

Matt could see the point pressing deeper into the delicate skin. “Phil, back off, she means it.”

“Don’t worry, she’s bluffing.”

The skin broke, blood trickled down the girl’s throat.

Matt grabbed Halliburton’s arm. “This is not going to work. I’m going to call the sheriff’s department.”

“No, wait a minute. This kid’s in shock. Look at her, her skin’s gray, and she’s sweating. That’s not a fever. Get a bunch of deputies in here slamming about, this could escalate into a tragedy.”

His eyes on the girl, Matt said, “You just said—” He stopped as the outside door opened.

Wriggling with joy, his tail waving from side to side, Barney hurled himself against the small, slight figure in the doorway.

Ginn Chang staggered, dropped to her knees, put both arms around him. “Oh, Barns. I love you, too.” She buried her face in his neck, as if giving herself time to ease into the room. “I’ve missed you, Barns. I’ve missed you so much.” She held Barney’s head, kissed him between his eyes, then looked up at Matt.

Matt drank her in. “Ginn.”

She was wearing a bright red pea coat, a heavy white turtle-neck, jeans, the elegance of her French mother as apparent as the delicate bone structure and bloodlines of her Chinese father. Matt’s mouth was suddenly dry, his heart bumped unevenly. She hadn’t been here for ten months, the longest ten months of his life and he hadn’t heard her light step along the deck. He couldn’t see her fabulous hair, it was pushed under a red woolen watchcap—unless she’d had it cut off, an awful thought. She looked wonderful. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Well, here I am. What did I interrupt?” Ginn got to her feet, took off the hat, freeing a shoulder length mass of shining black hair. She shook her head, removed the coat, threw it on the back of a kitchen chair. She looked at the girl, took in the knife. Her eyebrows shot up. “What’s going on here?”

“This is the girl I told you about on the phone.”

“No kidding. What’s she doing with a knife?”

“She grabbed it when I tried to hand her a cup of tea.”

“He was just explaining to me how he found her in the canyon and decided to bring her home because she was sick,” Phil said. “Good to see you, Ginn.”

“You, too, Phil.” Her tone was less than convincing. Matt knew she’d never had the same regard for Phil that he had. As far as she was concerned, Phil was just one more guy who wanted everything but marriage, and was breaking Annie Lautner’s heart in the process. Matt felt his face flush as she turned back to him. “Did you call Bobby?”

“No,” Matt said. He was beginning to realize how crazy all this sounded. “I found this kid lying on the ground in Encinal. There were several others, and they were all so terrified I promised I wouldn’t contact the police.”

Ginn glanced at the girl. “She looks pretty bad.” She started across the room, the dog following. The girl’s black eyes darted from the men to Ginn, and the point of the knife pressed deeper into the soft spot beneath her chin. Beads of fresh blood oozed from the wound. Ginn stopped well short, and dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor, eye-level with the girl. Barney leaned against her and Ginn put an arm over him and drew him closer.

She smiled and said gently, “You look very tired. Why don’t I make you something to eat, and then we’ll talk. No one is going to hurt you, sweetie.”

The girl’s dark eyes swept across the two men, then came back to Ginn. The hand holding the knife was shaking.

Ginn picked up the mug, put it to her nose and inhaled. She smiled. “Nice. Peppermint. Have some.” She held it out. The girl shrunk back. Ginn sipped the tea. “Mmm. Good.” Slowly, carefully, she pulled the small end table within the girl’s reach, replaced the mug and got to her feet. “Have you got any eggs, Matt?”

“Yes, sure.”

“This girl is in shock, suicidal, probably psychotic. Eggs won’t cure that,” Halliburton said.

“Can’t hurt. Why don’t you two go sit at the kitchen table while I fix something for her to eat. Give her some space.”

Ginn moved around easily in the kitchen that had been hers for five years. She scrambled eggs, toasted bread, put oatmeal cookies on a plate, warmed milk. She placed the food on a tray, carried it over to the table and put it down. As if the last of her strength was deserting her, the girl had leaned her back against the wall. Even with both hands wrapped around the handle of the knife, she was only just managing to keep it upright, the shaking point at her throat.

Tail waving, Barney followed the tray. Trained to ignore any food unless invited, he nuzzled the girl, then licked her face. The knife wavered, the girl sagged against him and the same thin, terrible moans Matt had first heard in the canyon seemed wrenched from her throat. The sound arrowed straight into his heart.

Ginn knelt in front of her and slowly reached for the knife. She covered the girl’s hand with her own, holding it until the small fingers relaxed the knife into her hand. Barney licked the girl’s face anxiously and she put her arms around him, burying her head in his shoulder.

Briefly, Ginn touched the girl’s dirty, tangled hair, then reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and draped it over her shoulders. The girl’s face was hidden in Barney’s coat, but the moans were turning into sobs. Ginn passed her fingers briefly over her eyes before standing up slowly to rejoin the two men at the kitchen table.

“Now what?” Matt said softly.

Phil got his bag, broke open a sealed sterile syringe, selected a vial, drew the colorless liquid into the syringe.

“The first thing is to quiet her down, give her some relief from all that anxiety. It will also give me a chance to examine her. Something’s caused all this.”

“Leave her alone, Phil,” Ginn said. “Just let her cry.”

“So, you’re a doctor now, Genevieve?” Halliburton asked pleasantly.

“It just seems common sense, that’s all. Look at her.”

The girl had her arms around Barney, her head resting on him. The dog sat quietly, his eyes on the plate of food. “I’d use a knife, too, if some strange guy came at me with a needle, wouldn’t you? Sit down, I’ll make some tea.”

Matt smiled to himself. Ginn’s response to most crises was tea. The canister she had left when she moved out was still full of some blend she had sent to her from Canada.

Phil replaced the syringe and vial, and closed his bag. “That little girl is suffering from exposure, dehydration and hysteria. She’s suicidal and should be in a hospital.”

“How can I send her to a hospital?” Matt said. “Who am I going to say she is? I don’t know her name or anything about her. I can’t answer any questions. How long could we get away with it if I made up something?”

“Maybe she’s a runaway and she’s got parents searching for her, frantic with worry. Did you think about that?”

“Phil, does she look like a runaway to you, with a loving family somewhere? They’re not runaways, these kids, not unless they’ve run away from a circus. They were all dressed in these bizarre outfits. One little kid was black, Phil. Ten years old and African. And not African-American, from some place in Africa. God knows what language she speaks. And it’s going to rain.”

Matt looked out the window. The sky was heavy with cloud and a band of rain moved across the horizon. Ginn put a mug in front of him, handed the other to Halliburton, and took a chair from which she could keep an eye on Barney and the girl. With her head, Ginn motioned for Matt to look, and he turned. The girl was kneeling in front of the little table, shoveling food into her mouth, with Barney at her side following each bite. Smiling, Matt held Ginn’s eyes, sharing a moment of pleasure with her for the first time in almost a year.

“I really don’t understand what’s going on here, Matt.” Halliburton had not picked up on the moment. “What were you doing in Encinal in the first place? Isn’t that where a girl’s body was found couple of days ago?”

“What body?” Ginn asked.

“You don’t know about that? A girl was found dead by the side of the road,” Halliburton said. “Do you think this girl, these kids, could be tied up somehow with that?”

“I don’t know. Could be.” Matt looked at Ginn. “During the fire, I had to come home along the beach. Just past the Edwards old house, I found a baby, maybe a couple of hours old. When I got her here, she was dead. The girl they found might be her mother.”

“Oh, Matt! Oh, my God!”

“You didn’t tell me about that when you came to get stitched up,” Phil said.

Shrugging in dismissal, Matt showed Ginn the Band-Aid covering the wound on his wrist. “I must have cut it breaking a window at Jimmy’s. Phil put a couple of stitches in. Anyway, a couple of sheriff’s detectives came to see me about the baby and they told me a girl’s body had been found, covered in wild-flowers, so I went to have a look at the place for myself. I saw these kids but when I called out, they ran, so I followed them. Five girls and a boy. One of the girls spoke a few words of English, really a few words, I could barely understand her. It was very strange, they seemed to be completely dominated by the boy.”

“If they’re that scared, you’d think they’d put distance between themselves and the place where a body was found, not hang around like that,” Phil said.

“That’s what I thought.” Matt got to his feet. “First I’m going to get some clothes together for them and then I’m going to try to bring them back with me. Their clothes were barely covering them, and it’s cold out there now.” He nodded toward the girl. “I had to wrap that one in Barney’s blanket.”

“You’re planning to keep five, six kids here?” Halliburton looked around the combined kitchen, dining room, living room. “Besides the little detail that it’s illegal, this whole place is smaller than my foyer.”

“I’ll think of something. Phil, can you stay here with Ginn for about an hour?”

Halliburton held up a warning hand. “Sorry. I’ve done all I’m going to do. I was never here, I don’t know anything about illegal kids. Annie and I are going out to dinner.” He got up, took his coat from the stand, shrugged into it. “This girl needs care and she should be watched.” He picked up his bag. “Plenty of fluids, light nourishing food, bed rest. Lock away the knives. Good seeing you, Ginn.” He closed the door firmly behind him.

“Good seeing you, too, Phil,” Ginn said to the closed door. The retreating footsteps faded. “So what are you going to do with a bunch of illegal kids you can’t communicate with?”

“I don’t know.” Matt hesitated, then said, “Would you feel safe staying alone with her? I won’t be gone long.”

“You’re really going to bring them here?”

“If you’ve got a better suggestion, God knows I’m open to it.”

Ginn shook her head. “All right, I’ll stay, but I’ll have to make a call. I had plans, too.”

“Oh. Okay, I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Matt went into the small spare bedroom. Of course she was dating, he should have expected that. But right now she was here, with him. That was something. He opened the closet, pulled out skis and poles, tennis racquets, a couple of baseball bats and mitts, and threw them on the bed so that he could get at the shelves of old winter clothes, some of it his, some of it Ginn had left behind when she moved out. Her sweats were small enough for the girls to wear, Hasan, too, come to that. He was so slight he was hardly there. A tough little bastard, though, a fighter. Matt cleared a shelf, dumped the clothes into a black canvas bag.

Then he felt Ginn behind him. Matt breathed in the scent she always wore, maybe from the giant bottle he’d put in her stocking last Christmas with a card from Barney…Not last Christmas. Last Christmas was the first without her in five years. Last Christmas he’d skied in Davos and fucked his brains out with some Italian girl whose name he didn’t even remember.

“I raided the refrigerator. You haven’t got much, just some cheese and bread and some apples. I put in water as well.” Ginn handed him a plastic bin liner. “I tried to get her into bed but she wouldn’t go. She’s lying down on the couch, so that’s something. I had to let Barney get up on the couch with her.”

Matt gave a small laugh. “Bet that was hard.”

“You know Barns. Matt, do you think Phil will go to the sheriff?”

“Come on. I know he’s not your favorite, but he wouldn’t do that.” He packed in another load, fastened the bag and stood. “Okay, now you’ve got my cell phone number, Bobby’s is on speed dial on the kitchen phone and in the bedroom. If she gets violent or threatens you, just run. You leave her, or you let her go if that’s what she wants. Don’t try to stop her. Promise me.”

“Matt, she’s not going to do anything like that.”

“Ginn, please, just do as I ask. Promise me.”

“Okay. I promise. But don’t worry, I’ve got Barney.”

Matt picked up the bag. “Back in an hour.”