We walked back down Mission to where Carolina had parked her car and she left a little before eleven, before either of us had time to say or do something stupid and ruin the evening. I told her I’d call her in a day or two. No hugs, no kisses, no stiff gestures or insincere affection between us. Just small smiles, quick nods, and the hope that maybe we could figure out how to be something close to mother and son again.
I slept well for what seemed like the first time in months-my need for sleep finally overruling any concerns I had about skinheads, gang members, or Plutos-and woke up early with a clear head. I hadn’t checked in on Rachel in a while and called the hospital. She answered on the third ring. I was relieved to hear that she was doing fine-her shoulder was still sore, but she was healing. She told me that she was leaving later in the day-her parents were coming to pick her up and she was going to stay with them for a little while. I gave her my cell-phone number and told her to call me if she needed anything and then said goodbye.
I sat on my sofa for a few minutes, wondering if I could’ve done anything else for Rachel. I still didn’t understand how she was connected to everything, what she’d done to make someone shoot her. The more I thought about it, the more confused I got. Frustrated by the lack of any concrete answers, I finally gave up, pulled on my trunks, grabbed the Ron Jon, and headed out for the water.
The water was smooth and the waves were solid, rolling in at regular intervals, letting me work up a rhythm of riding and paddling back out, my muscles loosening with each movement. I was sharp, gliding down the faces, snapping through the lips, floating on the tops. It was effortless and it felt good. I lasted for about an hour beneath a clear sky and a bright early morning sun and I couldn’t help but smile as I walked back up the sand to my place.
I showered, dressed, and called Carter.
He answered with a grunt.
“You up?” I asked.
“Am now.”
“You missed good water this morning.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Dammit.”
“Definitely sucks for you. Can you be over here in about an hour?”
I heard him stifle a yawn. “For the right price.”
“Breakfast will do?”
“Affirmative.”
“I need you to bring a couple things,” I said.
I told him what they were.
The line buzzed for a moment, then he said, “I’m assuming you’ll explain when I get there?”
“I will.”
“Breakfast better be hot.”
Forty-five minutes later I was wrapping the chorizo and scrambled eggs into tortillas when Carter strode in the door.
“I’ll assume there are at least three of those for me,” he said, his electric-white hair still wet, a wrinkled yellow T-shirt and long cargo shorts covering his frame. “I could eat a fat man.”
“Fortunately, the fat men will be safe today,” I said, placing two of the burritos on a plate and sliding it across the counter. “Two more for you when you’re ready.”
He sat down at the kitchen table, wolfed one down in three bites, and was halfway through the second when he asked, “How was last night?”
I sat down across from him. “Good.”
“Just good?”
I thought about it. “Yeah.”
The second burrito was gone and he walked into the kitchen to grab a third. “Yelling, screaming, any of that?”
“None.”
He came back and sat down again. “Wow. Sounds like you acted like an adult.”
“Shut up.”
He shrugged and started in on the burrito. I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to discuss my mother. If I started talking and thinking more about her and our dinner, I knew I’d start second-guessing myself and doubting Carolina. I needed to just let it sit and see what happened.
Carter wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thanks. That was good.”
I stared at his empty plate. “Did you even taste them?”
“A little bit,” he said, pushing back from the table and stretching out his legs. “So. Wanna tell me what we’re doing today?”
“You bring everything?”
He nodded. “A couple of rifles, scopes, and a bunch of ammo. We going on some sort of man picnic?”
“You wish,” I said, standing up from the table and grabbing both of our plates.
“You aren’t gonna break out a ring and propose to me, are you?” he asked, his eyebrows bouncing up and down.
I walked into the kitchen and dumped the plates in the sink. “I might propose you go screw yourself.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“No doubt,” I said. “We’re going out to Alpine.”
He made a face like I’d said we were going to go eat sewage instead of going to one of the outermost areas of San Diego County.
“Alpine?” he said, practically spitting the word out. “Why not just go to Kansas? Almost as far east.”
“I’m trying to expand your cultural horizons.”
“Gonna have to take me a lot fucking further than Alpine to do that.”
“Well, then, that’s not a trip I ever wish to make.”
He shook his head, then twisted around in his chair to look at me as I walked by him out to the kitchen. “Why are we wasting a perfectly good day going to Alpine, Noah?”
I stared past him out the glass door at the water. He was right. It was a perfectly good day. The light blue sky over the dark blue water made for a pretty picture.
I didn’t know if it was because of my renewed optimism over my relationship with Carolina, but I was feeling more of a sense of urgency to solve the whole Pluto thing. Linc was the one who could thread all of it together. I’d agreed to his aunt’s request to continue looking for him, but in truth, I was doing it more for me than for her. Mo and Lonnie had already made one visit to my home. I didn’t want another where someone other than me might have to face their wrath. And I refused to be glancing behind me, watching for them.
I reached for my gun on the counter. I checked the chamber and racked the slide, the noise echoing off the living room walls.
“We are going to Alpine,” I said, staring hard at the door, the brand-new glass door that had replaced the old one. “Because it’s time to go visit Lonnie and Mo.”