Bandit’s whimpering became more pronounced at the sight of the food bag. I filled his metal bowl and barely got it to the floor before he dunked his huge jowls and began crunching. I filled a second bowl with water and set it out of harm’s way; Bandit tended to slide his bowl all over my tile floor seeking every nugget. As I watched the big dog eat, I sensed the red light blinking behind me. When he’d finished, Bandit looked up at me with his dark, expectant eyes. “Sorry, buddy. Mickie says one bowl. You’re getting too fat.”
The skin above his eyes wrinkled in disappointment.
“I know. Women, right?” I opened the back door to the yard. “Okay, time for both of us to take care of our business.”
Bandit bounded out. I left the door open so he could get back in and made my way to the answering machine. When I hit the button, a computerized voice indicated there had been a power failure. Then the machine retrieved the stored messages. The first message was left at 4:12 p.m., before the earthquake. Eva.
“Hey, Sam, just wanted to let you know that my flight landed, and I’m on my way home. Looking forward to seeing you.”
I didn’t have a lot of time to react or analyze the message, because the machine beeped and the second message began playing. Mickie.
“Hey, it’s me. I know you went to the game with Ernie, but I saw that it got canceled, and I’m checking up on you. I left Bandit at the house to keep you company. I hope you’re all right. I’m fine. A couple cracks in my plaster in the living room, but otherwise no damage. Okay, I’m rambling. Call me and let me know you’re okay. Love you.”
The machine beeped a third time. I awaited the next message, the one from Eva calling to tell me that traffic was a bitch, and she’d decided to spend the night at a hotel in the East Bay, but there was no voice, just a hang up. The stilted, computerized voice indicated no further messages. I was about to walk off when the phone rang. Isn’t it always like that? Your ears must have been burning. Or I was just thinking of you. I took a deep breath, cleared my throat, and answered. “Hello?”
“Sam?”
“Eva?”
“No, Sam, I’m sorry, this is Meredith.”
Eva’s mother. “Meredith?” It dawned on me that she would be worried. They lived in Southern California and had obviously heard the news about the earthquake. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t . . . Listen, Eva called and left a message that her flight landed. I’m sure she’s in a hotel somewhere because the roads are a mess here, as you can imagine. The phone lines have been down.”
“Eva’s not in a hotel, Sam.”
“Did she call you?”
Meredith was weeping. She could not continue. I heard someone take the phone.
“Sam?” Eva’s father, Gary Pryor. “We got a call, Sam.” He paused. He, too, was fighting tears. “They found Eva’s car, Sam. They found it underneath the freeway.”
3
Gary Pryor told me he would catch a plane to San Francisco in the morning and asked that I pick him up at the airport. He said someone needed to identify Eva’s body. I wrote his flight information on the back of Mickie’s note because I knew I would not remember any of our conversation. Then I hung up and stumbled to the couch. Bandit’s paws clicked on the tile floor as he trotted in from the backyard, but he did not jump onto the couch or force his head into my hands to be petted. Sensing a mood change, he lowered his head and padded forward, his tail silent. When he got close, he stopped again, waiting for some sign. Did I want his comfort?
I opened my palm, and Bandit stepped forward and rested his head in my lap, looking up at me with a furrowed brow and sad eyes. I lowered my forehead to the bony knob atop his head. I wanted to cry, but I also could not stop a thought swirling in my head. I stood, startling Bandit, who jumped backward, wary. I paced the living room and tried to fill my head with any thought to avoid the one that kept circulating. Eva’s father was coming. He was going to identify her body and fly her ashes back to Los Angeles for a funeral service. Her father was coming. Her father.