“Dude, it’s the least I could do. We go back.”
“Is Aubrey still there? Can I talk to her?”
“No, she went home. She’s pretty shook up.”
“Could I ask you to go over there? Give the phone to her, so I can talk to her?”
“She was pretty clear she didn’t want to talk to you,” Rusty said. “I don’t know what fight you guys had this time . . . .”
“I totally get it,” Thom said. “OK, let me get on this. I can get the cash and be there in twenty-four hours.”
Rusty let out a long sigh of relief. “I am so glad to hear you say that, Thom. I mean, I cannot tell you how glad I am to hear you say that. Because I still love her, you know? But I know you two have had your share of troubles over the years, you and Aubs, and I wasn’t sure how you were going to react.”
Thom hadn’t even needed a nap to figure this one out. Brady was dead. Rusty had screwed up: “I didn’t know the man.” Didn’t. Past tense. Brady hadn’t stolen the money. Rusty had. Brady hadn’t returned for more. Rusty had. Aubrey was in trouble, all right.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Thom said. “I have to get the money first.”
“As much as you can. Whatever it takes to make this guy go away for good. No offense, Tommy, but you sent him, so you gotta get him off her back.”
“I understand completely. Keep this phone on.”
Thom hit the off button and thought for a moment. He checked the fuel gauge. The car’s tank was full. He pulled out his wallet and opened it. There were eight hundred dollars there. Other than that, he had only the clothes on his back.
The hell with it. Aubrey needed him.
He dropped the car in gear, cranked a big, sweeping U-turn across the desert highway, and headed back to Aurora.
29.
Aurora
It had taken Scott and Celeste an hour to get to the outlet mall off Highway 59 and even longer to get back, which meant they’d burned an unconscionable amount of gas. Aubrey had reminded Scott of this, repeatedly, both before he left and after they got back, but Scott had been adamant. He wanted that candy, and no other. They didn’t use much gas these days anyway, he’d said, and it wasn’t like there weren’t ample parking garages around town that they’d been able to methodically work their way through, siphoning what they needed as they needed it.
Besides, Scott had said, it’s for Norman. He might as well have started with that, because Aubrey knew that if it was something for Norman, there was no point in discussing it with him. Scott’s devotion to Norman had increased in the recent weeks, in direct proportion to Norman’s decline. Aubrey stopped fighting, Scott and Celeste braved the wilds of North Aurora, and they came back with the goods, telling only mildly horrifying tales of what the inside of the once-bustling mall had looked like. Looted stores, the rank stench of raw waste, and vast, dark, windowless spaces were what they’d expected, and they’d found them in abundance. But in their quixotic mission, they’d been successful.
Aubrey headed across the street to Norman’s house with the small white box in hand. She’d asked Scott to come with her, but he’d refused, and she didn’t press.
She knocked, waited, knocked again, and opened Norman’s door, calling out.
“You decent?” she asked, as was her custom.
“Not remotely,” he replied from the living room, as was his.
She smiled and walked inside, closing and locking the door behind her.
Aubrey had to make an effort to control her expression when she saw Norman. It had only been a few days, but the difference was striking. He was seated in the beat-up leather club chair that was his favorite, which he had long since pulled around so that it looked out at the neighborhood through his big picture window. He’d sit there for hours at a time, watching the hive of steady activity in the former front yards, which were now lush and productive fields, colored in rich yellows, reds, greens, and browns by the late summer harvest. “It’s like looking at a Manet,” he’d told her, “except it moves.”
Today he looked frailer than ever, a marked decline since Aubrey had seen him last. “Brought you a surprise,” she said, pulling a chair from the dining room table and sitting down next to him.
“Did you now?” he asked, smiling. He looked down at the package in her hand and furrowed his brow, recognizing the logo on the top. “What in the name of heavenly glory have you done?”
“Wasn’t me, it was Scott.” She smiled and opened the box, turning it around so he could see the contents.