Part 8 (1/2)

Dawn could see the good-cop/bad-cop pattern emerging. Breisi, uncharacteristically loose and friendly. Kiko, glowering in the corner while holding some of Robby's old clothes, just to see if he could get any new vibes off of them.

In the meantime, Dawn sat quietly on the fringes, sweat drying to stickiness on her bruised skin as she gripped one of the gla.s.ses of iced tea Mrs. Pennybaker had served. Since there was no fighting involved in this round, she wasreallyout of her element, and that humbled her, made her uncomfortable and frustrated. Still, she was savvy enough to know that watching how Kiko and Breisi worked the room would be way more beneficial than opening her mouth to ask all the questions knocking at her.

There was especially a lot to learn from seeing Breisi finesse Nathan Pennybaker, yet it was all Dawn could do to keep from ripping into him and the missus about how Robby had been allowed to get so out of control.

In contrast to his prematurely ancient wife, hubby was well adjusted and well fed, his stomach rounded under the silk of an Armani s.h.i.+rt. His skin glowed with health and probably a good European facial or two. His graying hair was carefully styled in one of those Roman senator cuts; Dawn guessed that old Nathan had been too busy snacking on gnocchi and manicotti to notice thatGladiatorwas out of the theaters, the hairdo dead and buried in the cemetery of unfortunate trends.

”I'm sure you understand the reason we couldn't contact you immediately upon my return,” he was saying to Breisi. He clasped his hands together and stared at his manicured nails. ”Being back in this house is hard enough. Talking about Robby...”

Nathan had one of those pseudo-Euro accents. It was almost enough to detract from the fact that he'd lost a son just as horrifically as his traumatized wife had. But at least he'd moved on...something Dawn had tried so hard to do, too.

Across the room, Kiko traded one of Robby's T-s.h.i.+rts for another. Immediately, his compact body tensed.

Was he feeling something? What was he seeing?

Breisi seemed not to notice the show since she was busy patting Mr. Pennybaker's shoulder. ”I understand, Nathan. But I'm sure you see the need for taking another look at Robby's situation.”

A pained sigh came from Mrs. Pennybaker. ”The film. He was right there, alive!”

When Dawn saw yet another anxious gleam in the woman's eyes, her stomach tightened. Mrs. Pennybaker was never going to get her little twelve-year-old Robby back again, even if hehadreturned as something else. Earlier, before Nathan had come downstairs, Breisi had tried to tell Marla about the red-eyed vamps, but the old woman wasn't hearing any of it. In fact, she was refusing to hear any talk of paranormalcy. But why? Hadn't she thought something was weird when a supernatural PI agency offered to take her case?

At Nathan's appearance, Breisi had backed off, though Dawn guessed she'd be sitting Marla down for another talk later. Instead, the actress had rea.s.sured the old woman. ”In the end, we're out to see to the peace of Robby and your family, Mrs. Pennybaker, just as Mr. Limpet promised.” Now, Dawn couldn't help relating to Marla's reluctance to hear whacked-out theories. As it was, there was something bothering Dawn-Robby's age, his appearance in the film....

She stirred in her seat, whiting out her brain, still in partial denial about what had gone on tonight, even though she'd seen-felt- more than enough proof.

In his seat, Kiko relaxed, peered at Robby's s.h.i.+rt, then laid it down gently. He was frowning, and when his eyes met Dawn's, he shook his head. Not a good sign.

”May I ask,” Breisi said to Mr. Pennybaker, ”why you left the country?”

Kiko slid out of his chair, coming to a stand, using his intimidator glare as he limped to where Nathan could see him. Dawn could tell the psychic was digging deep into the man's mind, searching for all the words that weren't being voiced.

The dapper manager cleared his throat and focused on Breisi, studiously avoiding Kiko. ”I left because I couldn't take the reminders. Istayedaway because I found a home in Bari, Italy. An old college friend had moved there, and it was far away from L.A....” He closed his eyes. ”I couldn't bring myself to come back until now.”

All the while, Dawn was cataloguing Mrs. Pennybaker's reactions. She was fisting, then unfisting, her veined hands, spreading them flat against her thighs as if forcing herself to peace. Her face remained a wrinkled mask, emotionless except for the eyes.

Dawn tried to decipher what was being reflected in them-anger? resentment? affection?-but she couldn't. She wasn't Kiko, with his skill for understanding how people thought.

A twinge of profound isolation grabbed her again. She just wanted to wake up and find herself back at yesterday, back in Virginia, hammering nails and not knowing that Frank had been hunting vampires.

Yeah. Hunting. Vampires.

How the h.e.l.l had her dad gotten into this? And why? More than ever, she realized how much of a stranger he was.

The alienation expanded, gnawing at her, dredging up the hunger, the need to feel a part of something. She started to ache, to itch for some fulfillment, however temporary.

As Dawn sat there throbbing away, she realized that Breisi and Kiko were trading one of those meaningful glances again.

Breisi stood. ”Mrs. Pennybaker, would it be okay if I used the restroom?”

Ah, Dawn thought. The locator.

”Of course.” The old woman started to get up.

”Oh, no, I can find it.” Breisi pointed to the hallway. ”Through here?”

”Yes.”

The room was quiet as Breisi left. Subtly, Kiko took his a.s.sociate's place on the couch, looking as confident as Mel Gibson, except for the fact that his legs didn't reach the floor.

”We've read the police report and heard different accounts,” he said to Nathan, ”but we haven't really gotten your side of the story.”

”The story,” Mr. Pennybaker repeated, eyebrows knitted.

”The story.” Kiko glanced at Mrs. Pennybaker. ”The night Robby...” ”...left,” she finished.

She was watching Kiko, her lower lip trembling. Maybe it was because his small body made him look so much like a boy. Maybe it was because she was seeing Robby in her memories.

At any rate, Dawn thought, Mrs. Pennybaker hadn't used the word ”died.”

Her husband had stiffened in his seat. ”I fail to understand why this will help, Mr. Daniels. Rehas.h.i.+ng this is upsetting my wife and-”

”You might know some details that can help us now,” Kiko said. ”Robby's out there...somewhere...and we need to do everything we can to find him.”

”Please,” Mrs. Pennybaker said, still staring at Kiko. ”Tell him, Nathan.”

Bit by bit, the man wilted, then ran a hand through his neat hair. ”It's not going to help. Robby's gone.”

Kiko nodded. Then he pulled a Breisi, resting his hand on Nathan Pennybaker's shoulder in ”comfort.”

A reading, Dawn thought, again impressed by Kiko's confidence and ease, by the talents he so easily wielded.

Mrs. Pennybaker sat back in her chair, closed her eyes, and covered her face with one hand, as if to s.h.i.+eld herself. Dawn imagined that her own grief about Eva Claremont would be just as fresh if she'd seen her mom's image in a recent movie, if she'd been given more hope about getting her back, too.

”I wasn't even there when he...” Mr. Pennybaker said, forehead wrinkling. ”Robby had snuck out to our housekeeper's cottage on her night off and was experimenting with her pill stash. He overdosed back there, and he wasn't discovered until later that night. Ingrid, the housekeeper, found him.”

Mrs. Pennybaker was shaking her head, in total denial.

”She's the one who killed herself?” Kiko asked, with more gentleness than Dawn would've ever given him credit for.

”It's all in the acting,”he'd said by the car earlier, spreading out his arms dramatically. The talent he'd boasted about was sure s.h.i.+ning through now.

”Yes, that was Ingrid.” Mr. Pennybaker grimaced. ”She felt guilty about the pills and rightfully blamed herself for Robby's overdose.”

Suddenly, Kiko seemed to get some kind of charge from his contact with the man's shoulder, because he jerked back his hand, as if scorched. Dawn leaned forward in her chair, but Kiko just shot her a wide-eyed I'll-tell-you-laterglance.

Mrs. Pennybaker spoke, her voice m.u.f.fled by her hand. ”Robby had an accidental overdose-hedidn't commit suicide.” Her breath hitched in agony.

”n.o.body said he did,” Kiko offered. ”We're not the press, Marla. We don't jump to those kinds of conclusions.”

Dawn remained silent. Twelve-year-olds were too young for addiction, for depression. Weren't they? Even in this town?