The Thousand - Kevin Guilfoile [125]
“It’s not possible.”
Reggie assessed her the way he would a witness. Eyes and lips—the parts closest to her brain—were all confidence. The farthest parts were less certain. Her hands fidgeted slightly. Her knees bounced twice. She believed what she said. But she wasn’t sure.
Elizabeth said, “Good Lord, you won’t even give your own mother the benefit of the doubt, but here you’ll stand up for some stalker. A murderer.”
Reggie quieted her with a hand. “How well do you know him?” Reggie asked.
“He’s my friend.”
“How good a friend?”
Her eyes turned to anger that quickly. “How much fucking detail do you want?” The transition reminded Reggie of Solomon and it chilled him.
“Did you know that he’s missing?”
That surprised her.
“Did you know that the last time anyone saw him, he was fleeing the scene of Amoyo’s murder just before the police arrived? Or that Amoyo’s blood was found inside Jennings’s abandoned car.”
She didn’t.
“Did you know he was spotted at Ms. Beaujon’s funeral? Did he know her?”
Slowly: “I don’t think so.”
“Did you know that he broke into your apartment? That he has a professional reputation in Las Vegas for violence?”
No response.
“Did you know that on his computer at work police seized a sizable amount of material related to you?”
“‘Related’?”
“Photographs. Many of them apparently taken without your knowledge. Digital security footage taken of you in the casino. A map indicating which gambling tables, nightclubs, and even restrooms you favor within the hotel. Checks on your background, your credit history. Journal entries. Poems. Love letters to you. He even had a massive spreadsheet, apparently compiled from watching hundreds of hours of televised poker as well as surveillance video from the Colossus. It details your decisions in tens of thousands of hands. Poker, blackjack. Every raise, every bluff, every hit, every stand.”
The head shaking slowed. “I know he likes me.”
“He is obsessed with you, Canada,” Reggie said. “After you left Las Vegas, he broke into your home. Murdered your best friend and your ex. He’s looking for you, he’s possibly very dangerous, and police don’t have any idea where he is.”
She thought about all this for a long moment and then started bobbing her body like she had something to add. “Okay, look, this is insane.”
“Regardless—”
“Wayne is about as dangerous as a chocolate sundae. I need to think about this.” Nada picked up the paper and examined the article.
Reggie said, “Canada, look. Just stay here until we learn more. I’ll try to make some arrangements to keep you safe.”
“Oh my God,” Nada said, leaning over the paper again, the weight of it hitting her at once. “I missed the funeral.” She put her hand over her mouth to cover the fear and remorse. That she had done something unforgivable.
They sat in silence and Reggie watched Canada cry for a long time. She refused any attempts at comfort, anything more to eat, just rocked on the couch, holding a pillow to her chest like a stuffed bear.
In a low voice, Reggie at last asked Elizabeth, “She can sleep here tonight, right?” Elizabeth nodded. “Canada, I can tell you’re tired. But you’re in a safe place and you and your mother can talk about all this tomorrow.”
Canada looked at Reggie and then at her mother. The tears were still full in her swollen eyes. She stood finally and walked down the bedroom hall.
Elizabeth shook her head at Reggie. “Your bed’s made,” she called.
They heard a door open and shut.
“Is this the most dysfunctional family ever?” Elizabeth sighed.
Reggie smiled. “No, believe it or not.” He told her everything was going to be all right.
“She’s home, right?” Elizabeth said. “Not the way I imagined it, but she’s home.”
45
PERHAPS BECAUSE he had no idea where he was headed, the police never caught up to Wayne. Thick weaves of branches protected him from helicopters (he heard rotors) and his pursuers must not have had a budget for the kind of heat-seeking technology Peter had described.
He walked for several hours, sometimes losing the sound of the highway in the distance but always