The God's Eye View

CHAPTER 35

Manus drove Evie’s car back to the Safeway, trying to keep his mind clear, to force himself to focus.

One thing at a time. One thing at a time.

He circled the lot before moving in, looking for police, a crowd… any evidence that the snatch had been noticed. There was nothing. He parked the car where he had taken it and killed the engine, then placed her purse and shoe inside a plain canvas grocery bag, the same kind ecologically minded shoppers carried in and out of the supermarket every day. He got out, pulled off the work gloves he was wearing, and dropped those in the bag, as well.

He walked over to the nursing home and tried the side entrance. Locked. Well, slipping in and out unobserved was probably too much to hope for.

He circled around to the front and went in. Immediately he was struck by the smell of strong antiseptic. He suppressed a gag and kept moving.

A pretty black woman was sitting behind a large, circular receptionist’s station just beyond the foyer. She smiled and raised her eyebrows as he approached, and he didn’t need to be a lip reader to make out what she said: “Can I help you?”

He stopped in front of the station, smiled awkwardly, and said, “My father can’t care for himself anymore and I think it’s time. If you have some brochures I could show him, I think… it would make things easier.”

She nodded sympathetically, eyeing him just a moment too long. He was accustomed to the reaction. It happened whenever he spoke in front of someone for the first time. She was wondering what was wrong with him. Deaf? Retarded? He didn’t mind. He knew there was something about his presence that made people uncomfortable, edgy, even afraid. The strangeness of his voice gave them something to focus on, something to explain away a feeling produced by something else.

She gathered up a few forms and handed them over. He glanced through them for appearance’s sake. Slick-looking materials depicting laughing, well-dressed, healthy-looking old people with perfect dentures and salon-coiffed white hair enjoying strolls and shuffleboard under brilliant blue skies, gourmet meals lit by chandelier. No one alone, everyone part of a pleasant, happy community. He’d never seen such bullshit.

He looked up and saw that she was speaking. Either she hadn’t figured out he was deaf, or she didn’t know how to talk to deaf people.

“…and we strongly encourage residents to join in all the activities we offer. I’m sure your father would be very happy here, if you decide to enroll him.”

Manus wondered whether he had read that right. Enroll? Commit would have been more honest.

“Thank you,” Manus said. “I think he would.”

“And your name is…?”

“Miller,” Manus said, wondering if the woman stood to receive a commission if she reeled him in. “Mark Miller.”

“Well, Mr. Miller, the main office is closed now, so I can’t offer a tour of our facilities. But if you’d like to come back…?”

“I think I’ll go through the brochures first. Thank you, you’ve been very helpful. Oh, is there a men’s room I could use?”

“Of course.” She gestured to her right. “Left at the end of the corridor, restroom’s on the right. You can’t miss it.”

Manus nodded his thanks and headed off down the corridor. He turned the corner and saw a black man almost as large as himself sitting in a chair halfway down the hall, his elbows on his knees and a newspaper opened before him. The man was wearing green surgical scrubs, and Manus realized he was a nurse or something like it, stationed near the side entrance to make sure the “residents” didn’t wander off.

Manus continued on. The man looked up, and Manus gave him a friendly nod. The man returned the nod and went back to his newspaper. He wasn’t terribly interested in Manus, which was good. But as he got closer, Manus could see the man was positioned just beyond the restrooms. Manus wasn’t going to be able to enter the women’s room without the man noticing. He considered for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of various possibilities.

“Excuse me,” he said, pausing in front of the restrooms. “Is anyone in the women’s room?”

The man looked up and frowned. “I don’t think so, no.”

“My aunt thinks she left her glasses in there. Okay if I take a quick look?”

Plan B was to drop the man, check the bathroom, and head out the side exit. And Manus had gamed out other possibilities, too, depending on what the man did next. But there was no need. The man simply shrugged, said, “Be my guest,” and went back to the newspaper.

Manus nodded his thanks and headed in. The bathroom was spotless, the tile almost glowing under the fluorescent lights. Surprisingly, the antiseptic smell was much less strong here, and Manus was momentarily grateful for it.

He ducked into the handicapped stall, got on his knees, and felt around behind the toilet near the floor. Nothing, just cold, smooth porcelain. He ran his hand up higher. Still nothing. He squeezed his head up against the wall and looked at the back of the toilet. Everywhere other than the tracks left by his hand was a slightly greasy covering of dust. Not a place anyone bothered to clean, even in a facility as apparently conscientious as this one. There was nothing taped there, and obviously there never had been.

He performed an identical examination of the other toilets. They were all the same.

She had lied to Delgado. Lied to buy herself time. Because she knew what Manus had tried to deny. That when they found the thumb drive, she was dead.

He headed out, ready to tell the man in the chair he’d been unsuccessful. But the man never even looked up from his paper.

He went out through the front entrance, being sure to thank the receptionist again on the way, then walked to the Safeway. Once outside the facility and no longer needing to be in character, he could feel panic closing in. He breathed deeply, in and out, willing it away. He had to decide what to do. He couldn’t tell Delgado. He couldn’t. If he did, Delgado was going to hurt Evie. Assuming he hadn’t hurt her already. Assuming he wasn’t hurting her right then.

And hurting her wouldn’t even be the end of it. It would only be the start.

He walked to the edge of the parking lot and paced, examining options, weighing risks. After five minutes, he kept coming back to the same idea. It was dangerous and it was bad. But everything else seemed worse.

His phone vibrated and he pulled it out. It was Delgado. What the fuck is going on?

Manus didn’t respond. He dropped the phone back in his pocket and went into the Safeway. Using cash, he bought a bottled water. A few granola bars. And a thumb drive.

Outside, he tore open and tossed the packaging and pocketed the thumb drive. The water and granola bars went into the canvas shopping bag, along with Evie’s purse and shoe.

He walked to his pickup, which he had left in a nearby parking lot, opened the toolbox, put the canvas bag inside, and took out the StingRay. In less than a minute, he had the location of the cell phone Delgado had been texting from. It looked like he was in the middle of the woods around the Triadelphia Reservoir. Manus’s stomach clenched at the thought of how dark it would be there, how private.

His phone vibrated again. Delgado: Answer me, asshole. Did you find the drive?

He texted back, Waiting outside the bathroom. Need it to be empty.

Okay. Just stop blowing me off. I want to know what’s going on. I don’t trust this bitch.

Manus closed the toolbox, touched the hilt of the Espada in his front pocket and the butt of the Force Pro in the holster, got in the pickup, and drove off.