"Some guy," Caroline said, "says he's a lawyer. Says he's involved in a case with your mother. Where is your mother, anyway? How come she's not here?"
"That's none of your business," Miranda huffed, "and it's rude to listen in on other peoples phone calls. Of course you know all about rude."
"I'll forgive you for that," Caroline smiled, revealing those gapped teeth again. "After all, I'm making you dinner. But okay, never mind. You have your secrets. I can see that. I'll just go sit in my chair while our supper is baking."
"It isn't your chair," the girl hopelessly said, but all she could do was stand there and watch as Caroline made herself comfortable. Not even the deliciousness of dinner could dispel Miranda's foul mood, and after giving in once again and making a fire, she silently climbed up into the loft from the bookshelves below, and, muting her phone, lost herself for a while on the internet. Sooner than she'd anticipated, sleep overtook her, and she slept quite easily all through the night.
Chapter Nineteen
Miranda woke up the next morning with one new idea, but she didn't believe it was a very good one. Dropping down from the loft she brought out her cellphone and while the old woman snoozed in the chair she took a few photos of her on the sly. She figured she'd try and find some kind of facial recognition website where should could upload the picture and see if it matched any known wanted criminals. She didn't know if there was any such site but if there wasn't there really should be. She snuck out of the house and hurriedly typed in such search terms as she thought might be useful but didn't find anything like what she wanted. All she found was a story in the news that some company was developing technology like that for use by police but not for ordinary people. It didn't seem right. They had all this stuff on the phone but not the one thing she needed desparately now.
She was certain that the woman was some kind of convict, probably escaped from some prison somewhere, and now she was alone on the run and using her place for a hideout. Or, even worse, maybe she wasn't alone but just waiting to bring in her gang, who might be out there in the woods at that moment. Miranda glanced around nervously, but her ears could only pick up the sounds of the early morning birds, and her own animals crying for attention. She put the phone in her pocket and got back to work. As always, there was so much to do and as always, doing it all took her mind off her problems. It was only when she came back from leading the goats to a different field that she entered the barn and found Caroline snooping around inside there.
"What do you want?" Miranda nearly barked at the sight. Caroline turned to face her, and Miranda saw that she'd found the store of canned fruits they always kept in an old wooden cupboard out there. Caroline was holding up a jar.
"It's not labeled," she said.
"It's not yours," Miranda countered. "Put it back."
Caroline shrugged and returned the mason jar to the shelf where it rejoined the dozens of others much like it.
"I was thinking it would go nice with some fresh homemade bread," she said, walking back out towards Miranda. "I could make some, you know, if we only had a couple of things."
"I know how to make bread," Miranda curtly replied, and even as she said it she was mentally making notes to pick up some butter and yeast the next time she went down to the store.
"We should go shopping," the old woman said, coming right up to the girl.
"You should go away," Miranda said, standing her ground. She felt stronger that morning, and especially in the barn, where she could feel the horses encouraging her, or so she imagined. This was her place even more than the house, because she had worked on everything in it at one time or another. She'd piled up the hay and canned the fruit and cleaned out the stalls and hung up the ropes and the saddles. She'd painted the walls and even patched up the roof. More than anything, the smell of the barn gave her strength. She breathed it in and told Caroline again she should leave, she wasn't needed or wanted around there.
"I made up a list," Caroline said, completely ignoring her rant. "So what do you do, ride the horses down there? Guess you must, it's too far to walk in one day, especially carrying up groceries. And the other thing is, how do you pay?"
"I take them some eggs and some goat cheese and this fudge that we make," Miranda explained, chattering away against her will. She wished again she wasn't so trained to answer old people's questions. It was like she was a circus monkey, she scolded herself.
"So you trade," the old woman nodded, and then shook her head. Clearly she was not satisfied. "I can see that, up to a point," she pondered aloud, "but it can't be enough. And then, of course, there's the cellphone. Somebody's paying for that."
"It's none of your dang business," Miranda yelled. "Why don't you see to your own affairs and leave mine alone?"
Caroline laughed, and had to stop herself from reaching out and patting the little girl on the head. She was so cute when she got upset, the old woman thought. And of course, she admitted to herself, the girl had a point. She was totally right. On the other hand, well, the old woman actually was looking out for herself.
"Tell you what," she said to Miranda, "I'll make you a deal. Room and board, nothing more. I'm not after your cash or your stash or whatever it is that he left you."
"I promise," she quickly added, seeing Miranda about to explode once again, and that seemed to defuse her for a moment.
"I promise," Caroline repeated, holding her palms up and doing her best to look as sincere as she could. "We just need some groceries right now, and that's all. See? I made up a list?"
Slowly she pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, like a mugging victim might pull out his wallet. She held it up, offering it to Miranda. The girl snorted, then sniffed, then sneered, then finally grabbed the thing out of her hands. She scanned it over and didn't find anything unreasonable on it except for something called 'lemon pepper'.
"What's lemon pepper?" she asked and again kicked herself mentally for caving once more.
"I doubt they even have it," Caroline said, "that store didn't impress me too much when I saw it."
Miranda knew she really ought to go down there. For one thing, Caroline had used up most of the flour for the egg and cheese pies she'd made the night before, and she was tempted by even the thought of fresh homemade bread. It was time. Ever since the sheriff's first visit she'd been holding out, not wanting to venture down there with the Carters asking all sorts of questions about Calvin, so she'd been eating too little and letting her basic supplies run down low.
"I can go by myself," she said, but Caroline insisted on coming, which was confusing to the girl. If Caroline was a fugitive from the law, why would she want to go out in public? Then again, Miranda had to admit, the old lady hadn't hidden from the sheriff the other day either, so maybe that whole escaped prisoner thing was all wrong. It turned out that Caroline also knew how to ride, and saddled up Betty - Calvin's old mount - and rode comfortable alongside the girl once they'd packed up the goods and headed out down the trail. Miranda couldn't help but acknowledge it almost felt like old times, and that wasn't so bad.
Chapter Twenty
Bill Landis was feeling exceptionally lucky. He always felt good when he took his bike out on the road, and the thrill of the chase was roiling his blood around too. He felt in his bones it was murder, and the best kind at that, a murder unsolved, a cold case that nobody else had figured out yet. There was credit to be gained, he'd make a name for himself yet, and there were also the favors of Lucille to acquire. And it was beginning to seem like all he had to do was show up. He didn't know anything about Los Arboles except that it was his destination, the nearest place on the map to one Calvin Harden, old man and suspect numero uno. Why else would he never pick up the phone, or call back, or answer a letter? The old guy was guilty as sin, and Bill knew it. He'd come across this kind of story before. Half the time there is violence, it's all in the family. Husbands murder their wives. Wives hire someone to knock off their husbands. Sons killing dads and daughters poisoning mo
ms. Abuse is almost always domestic abuse. God forbid there was anything involving the child.
Just show up he did, and the first thing he noticed about the town of Los Arboles was the entire town of Los Arboles. It consisted of a roadside pit stop, one long building on the side of an otherwise moribund mountain highway. The building contained a post office whose hours were set between never and nope, the remains of what was a restaurant once but looked like it had been shuttered for years, and a small country store that was more like the kind of snack shop you'd find in a national park. On the other side of the road was a promising bar with a couple of Harleys outside. Bill felt right at home. The guys there would definitely be admiring his bike by the end of the day. HIs was a classic, a genuine 1990 Low Rider FXR like you'd see in the movies. It got him attention wherever he went, and that day in Los Arboles was no exception. Right away as he pulled up in front of the store, a young woman came out and stood by admiring. She wasn't exactly his type, but he wasn't picky. "On the road, anything goes," he said to himself.
"That's a beautiful bike," Tara Carter exclaimed as Bill pulled himself up, took off his helmet and shook his wet hair. He'd been riding for hours and needed to stretch.
"That she is," he smiled at her. "Bill Landis," he said introducing himself. He held out his hand and she took it.
"Tara Carter," she replied, "So nice to meet you."
It was so nice to meet him, in fact, that she offered to make him a sandwich and gave him a beer from the case. The store was, as usual, empty. There were hardly ever any customers in there, so the two of them stood around and got to know one another a bit. They made some small talk for a while, and eventually Bill got down to business. He explained that he was a private investigator, looking into a possibly serious crime that might have occurred right around where they were. Tara was intrigued, but when Bill came right out and mentioned his suspicions, she burst out into uncontrollable laughter.
"Calvin?" she sputtered, "old Calvin a cold-blooded killer? Oh my, I don't think so. Oh no, that can't be. Can it?" she concluded, coming around to the idea of the deadly possibility.
"It sounds like you know him," Bill said.
"Course I do," Tara said, "I've known him my entire life. Everybody around here knows Calvin. You know what they call him? The old man in the trees."
"And you knew his son, too? Dean? And his son's wife, Loretta?"
"But hardly," Tara admitted. "They weren't here long. Just came to give birth to Miranda, is what they all say. Then when they took off, they left her behind with old Calvin. That part's a mystery, true."
"Nobody's ever seen either one of them since," Bill explained, and Tara's face took on a worried expression.
"Is that true? I mean, we heard that she died. Everyone said."
"Did they say how?"
"No, I guess not," Tara confessed, "but it had to be drugs. Overdose or something like that. She was a mess. You should have seen her. I remember I saw her one time, right over there by the door, she could hardly stand up. Kept toppling over. Dean had to keep propping her up and she couldn't speak clearly at all. Had her stringy hair falling all over her face, the poor thing must have weighed seventy pounds, no really, I swear. How she ever had a baby nobody knows. She always wore these huge aviator sunglasses, and clogs, which was one reason why she couldn't barely walk. She looked like death just waiting to happen. Can't say that anyone was surprised when they heard."
"And what about Dean?" Bill wanted to know, but Tara only shrugged. She had no idea. Bill was about to ask for directions up to old Calvin's place but then, it was simply his lucky day. There was no other way to explain it. All he had to do was show up. Here he was, all hot on the trail, and what do you know, the girl walked right in.
Chapter Twenty One
Miranda and Caroline had also noticed the Harley, and had been standing right outside the door, admiring it, Caroline especially. It seemed to bring back old times, and Miranda thought she saw tears come into the old woman's eyes, but she blinked a few times and strode into the store, Miranda a few steps behind her. As soon as she entered, Tara Carter called out.
"Miranda! Miranda. Look, there's somebody here who knows your aunt down in Fresno."
Miranda stopped in her tracks, looking shocked. She had no idea how Tara could know about Lucky or Grace or Lark. It was crazy. Was the entire planet collapsing on her? Did everyone else in the world know her family but her?
"Bill Landis," said a gross-looking, big sweaty man who was suddenly walking right towards her. Miranda backed up, almost stepping outside of the door, but the man stopped and held up his hands.
"I've been trying to contact your grandfather," Landis explained. "I've been calling and leaving him messages. Did he get them?"
Miranda shook her head 'no' but didn't say a word. She quickly glanced around to see who else was there, but saw no one. Caroline had grabbed a small basket and was somewhere in the aisles looking for stuff.
"I don't mean him any harm," Landis explained, which only frightened Miranda even more.
"I'm just here on business, looking into some matters concerning your parents, Loretta and Dean Harden. Do you know where your parents are now?"
Still, Miranda didn't answer. Tara Carter felt she ought to pipe in.
"He's investigating," she said in a voice full of intrigue. "You know how your mom and your dad ain't been seen since you was a baby?" Bill Landis shot her a look which encouraged her to shut up, so she did.
"That's right," he said, in a calm reassuring tone, or so he intended. "It's an official investigaton. I'm representing your aunt Lucille. She's a friend of mine. I'm a lawyer and we work at the same firm together. She's concerned about her sister. They were twins, did you know?"
This time Miranda nodded. Again, obeying adults! She was trying to make up her mind to stop doing that.
"She doesn't know what became of her sister. There's no public record. She just disappeared, along with her husband, your father, eleven years ago now. That's why I wanted to talk to your grandfather, find out what he knows. I just want to talk to him. I don't mean him any harm," he repeated.
"He's away," Miranda managed to say, and Tara nodded.
"That's right, I forgot," she told Bill. "My parents had the sheriff go up and check on him. Said he'd gone down to L.A. for some family business. That right, Miranda?"
"That's right," Miranda said.
"Maybe I can help," Caroline suddenly spoke up. She had come up the aisle and been standing there, listening in. Now she stepped up to Bill and introduced herself boldly.
"I'm Caroline Harden," she said. "Calvin's sister."
"I didn't know he had one," Bill said, suspicious. He had thoroughly researched Calvin's background, and was pretty sure about that. Calvin had two brothers. Marvin and Joseph, one older, one younger. Marvin had lost both his legs in a war and lived in a retirement home out by Denver. Joseph had died of heart failure at the age of fifty seven.
"Half-sister, actually," Caroline back-tracked. "We had different mothers."
Landis nodded, looking thoughtful. It was possible, he had to admit. Calvin's father was known as a roughneck, work on the oil fields, gotten around. It wouldn't be surprising if he'd had more than one family scattered about.
"I can tell you what happened to them," Caroline continued. Landis perked up.
"Would you happen to have any coffee?" she said to Tara. She figured she might as well get something for telling the tale. Tara, who was eager to hear it, hurriedly filled and gave her a cup. Caroline took it, and took her time taking a sip. Then she looked around at her audience. Tara was all ears behind the counter. Miranda was still over by the door looking like she'd fly if she could. Bill Landis was over near Tara. He had taken out a notepad and a pen and was ready to write down whatever she said. Caroline smiled to herself, and began.
"Dean and Loretta were up to no good," she declared. "Never were up to no good. From the start they were nothing but trouble. Dean might have
had his good days, but not her. She was a schemer, always coming up with some kind of racket. She'd be selling bad dope, or selling herself if she could. I don't mean to be insulting your mother," she said, looking steadily at Miranda, "but I'm telling the truth."
"I know what she was," Miranda muttered, and Caroline nodded and went on.
"There was nothing that she wouldn't do to get what she wanted. She had no rules, believed in no laws. It was Loretta against the whole world all the time. Nobody loved her except Dean, and you know what he loved? That she was entirely his."
Caroline laughed as she said it.
"Entirely his and exactly because there was nobody else in the world who would have her. The two of them made quite a pair. Everyone said it was only a matter of time until they got what was coming to them. They made a lot of enemies in their very brief lives, most of that from ripping people off. It seemed like they never met anyone they didn't steal from. Dean was a talker. He could tell you a story, make you believe whatever he said. It was always a lie. Well, long story short, one day they ran out of luck. Went down south of L.A. to the desert. People vanish down there, gone without a trace all the time. It's what happened to them. Tried to make the wrong deal for the very last time."
Caroline stopped, and sighed as if she really gave a damn about them. Landis didn't know what to believe.
"And you know about this, how?" he wanted to know.
"I was there," she replied. "Well, not exactly there when it happened, but there when they took off that day. They'd passed by my place at the time - near where Calvin is now by the way, down south of Blythe - told me they had a big score, couldn't wait to get out there, in Joshua Tree. That was the last time I saw them. Heard the story some time after that, from some biker who'd heard it from somebody else. The man had a hog just like yours. Beautiful thing. Said they were shot in the head, both of them at the same time, together. Never saw it coming. Never felt a thing."
She looked at Miranda again, who was chewing her lower lip, considering the words. Calvin had never told her this tale. He'd never said much about it in fact, only that her mother had died, and that she didn't have to worry about her father ever again. If it ever came up, and it hardly ever did, he'd say the same thing every time, word for word. All this was brand new to her.