After we hung up, I remained on the bench, staring out over the cliffs, sure that something terrible was about to happen.
Cooley. Greenway. Charlie’s old girlfriend in Michigan. Zorn.
Evan.
It was like this whole thing had been some kind of long, orchestrated countdown leading directly to Charlie. And if Susan Pollack was there—an “if,” but one I felt sure about—it meant whatever the countdown was leading to was happening now.
I had to warn Charlie and Gabby about this.
“Dude!”
I looked up, shaken from my thoughts, and saw Dev, the panhandler.
He was in his usual worn Seahawks cap, the same old woolen plaid shirt over his straggly carpenter’s pants, with beat-up sneakers. “How’s it going, Jay?” He lit up a smoke.
This time, his overly familiar use of my name rubbed me the wrong way. And anyway, he was about the last person I needed to deal with right then. I realized how foolish it had been to make him a part of what was going on. I shrugged, barely meeting his gaze. “Just watching the birds.”
“The birds are gone, I hear. Cleared out everywhere. Used to be all over the damn place . . . Now look at them. Like everything around here. Gone. Maybe they got a sixth sense or something . . . So, hey, I was wondering, you ever find that dude?”
I shook my head. “No, I didn’t.” Then I remembered I still owed him some money. I reached in my pocket. I wasn’t even sure if he had followed through or not.
“Nah . . .” He waved me off. “Save it, man.” He took a drag off his cigarette. “You gave me enough already. I didn’t do much for it. Anyway, I’m cutting town.”
The guy was just being friendly, but he was the last thing I needed right now. Anyway, I’d brought it on myself. “Leaving?” I tried to act surprised and looked around. “All this?”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “Paradise, huh? Isn’t that what they say? Look around, Jay. Nothing but busted dreams around here. Anyway, my reasons for relocation here are coming to an end.”
Reasons for his relocation. I tried to read the smile upon his face. “Where you heading?”
“East.” He shrugged. “Who knows, maybe New York.”
That surprised me. “I’m from New York,” I said.
“That right?” Dev grinned, one as wrinkled as his trousers. This gave me the uneasy feeling that I was telling him something he already knew. “Maybe I’ll look you up there.” He smiled.
Something in his slate-colored eyes locked on mine. He was making me uncomfortable, and what I needed to think about was what Sherwood had just told me, not him. “Maybe you will.”
The guy just stood there for a while, like a bent stick, his clothes ripped and way too big for him, and took another drag on his butt. The conversation had gone on about as long as it was meant to.
“Well, adios,” I said. “I have to get back. I wish you luck.”
I was about to put out my hand; then I hesitated. He didn’t seem to want it anyway. He just smiled at me with an odd steadiness, which at first I thought was just the sum of the million differences between us but later realized was something far more.
He took a final drag off the cigarette and tossed it on the path. He rubbed it out with his sneaker.
“See you around, doc.”