Part 23 (2/2)

”Is it true that in five minutes he'll forget he ever saw us?” he said.

”Yes. But that hardly means he'll give up tracking you. He may circle the block for hours. He may hide the SUV and lie in wait. Don't expect him to wander away. He won't,” she said. ”He's on a mission. A mission that will never end for him, even if he's successful.”

Shepard didn't actually s.h.i.+ver, but he looked as though an invisible hand had just slapped him hard across the face.

”I can't turn him in to the police,” he said hoa.r.s.ely.

”Why not? Tell me why you don't want the cops involved.”

Shepard's jaw and shoulders were taut. He looked as though all his energy was being drained by an invisible power cable.

”I can't turn him in. He's my brother.”

* 18 *

Kanan drove south on Albion. He was gripping the wheel like he wanted to wring its neck. The turn-signal indicator was flas.h.i.+ng. He reached the intersection with Sixteenth. Following the instructions of Alec's car, he turned left. The big SUV heaved around the corner.

His pulse was pinging. He was simply driving in midday traffic but was breathing rapidly. Something was up. Something big. He looked at the Post-it note on the dashboard.

Alec in Benz.

He scanned the road ahead as he cruised along in traffic on Sixteenth. The day seemed extraordinarily clear. Sunlight lit the clouds to prism brightness. The overhead electric wires looked so sharply defined that he felt if he really concentrated, he would be able to see the current flowing through them. He saw the traffic on the street and felt that he could count the cars, the trucks, the buses, figure the ratio among them, and work out the speed at which they were moving, just by watching how quickly they pa.s.sed between two telephone poles. The street scene seemed to glide by in slow motion compared to the speed at which his mind was racing.

He looked again at the dashboard. Next to the Post-it note about Alec was another one. Doctor-blue Tacoma. With a license number written below it. He didn't know what that was about, so he continued looking for Alec, who must be around here someplace-because he had no reason to come to the Mission District, except to find his brother.

He braked. There, parked at the curb, was the Benz. n.o.body was inside. He swept the street-no sign of Alec.

The car behind him honked. Kanan accelerated and drove to the corner. He would search for Alec in a radial pattern with the Benz as a center point. He slowed and turned left onto the cross street.

Jo stared at Alec Shepard. At once, the pain and confusion in Shepard's eyes looked comprehensible.

”Your brother,” she said.

”Yes. And I refuse to submit him to arrest.” He took her elbow. ”Let's get out of here.”

She pulled loose and retreated behind the hanging garden of dry-cleaned clothing. ”Okay, big bro-what's he more likely to do? Drive in a straight line away from where he lost sight of us, or circle the block?”

”You said he'll forget he saw us here.”

”He will. He can't form new permanent memories. But he can certainly rely on training, instinct, and the problem-solving skills he's honed over the course of his lifetime. He's gotten this far so he must have figured out a system of some kind. So tell me-what's he like, Mr. Shepard?”

She hit the last name sharply.

”I'll explain everything.” Again he took her elbow.

Jo didn't want him controlling her. She pulled free from his grip. ”Why didn't you disclose your relations.h.i.+p right away? Because unless you cough up a big dose of honesty, immediately, I'm not following you past the door of this store.”

”I didn't know if I could trust you. And the fact that you didn't already know we were brothers disinclined me to confide in you.”

And, d.a.m.n, Jo thought-why hadn't Misty Kanan told her? Why had she held that back?

”What's the deal? Half brother? Stepbrother? Foster child?” she said.

”We're full brothers. Our father died when Ian was a baby. Our mother remarried when he was six and I was a senior in high school. Her husband adopted Ian and gave him his name.”

She peered around the forest of plastic-shrouded clothes at the front window. The street was quiet. ”Best guess. Gut instinct. Brotherly mojo. Which way are we least likely to run into him?”

”He's unpredictable. That's his genius and his problem.”

A hard nasal voice cut through the shop. ”What the h.e.l.l are you doing back here?”

In the hallway stood the owner of the dry cleaner's. He was small, puffy, and wrinkled, like a beige comforter that had been squashed by the spin cycle of a was.h.i.+ng machine.

”We're being chased by a car. We ducked in here until the police arrive,” Jo said.

”Bulls.h.i.+t. Get out.”

Shepard put up a hand. ”If you'll let me explain-”

The man reached behind him and pulled out a baseball bat.

Jo spread her hands placatingly and backed toward the counter. ”Two minutes.”

”Get out of my shop.” He raised the bat like Mickey Mantle stepping to the plate. ”And keep your hands where I can see them.”

Jo ducked around the counter and cast a glance out the front window. Cruising up the street toward them was the red Navigator.

”Alec,” she said.

The owner lunged toward Shepard and pulled back the bat, winding up to take a swing. ”Out, I said.”

Shepard backed away from him. ”I'll give you fifty dollars to let us stay.”

He chased Shepard around the counter. ”Out, G.o.dd.a.m.n it.”

Shepard reached for his wallet. ”A hundred dollars.”

The red Navigator was approaching. Shepard thundered toward Jo. Close on his heels, the wrinkled little owner swung the bat. It swished the air. c.r.a.p. He swung again. Strike two missed Shepard's head by inches.

The owner wound up again, his eye on Jo's face like she had Rawlings printed on her forehead. She opened the door.

The store's bell rang. Without looking up from his copy of Guitar Player, the cas.h.i.+er said, ”Have a good one.”

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