Chapter 2

"Don't insult me," Lisa said firmly. "You'll stay here as long as it takes to get you back on your feet, and I won't hear another word about it. Drink your tea."

She got up from the table and missed Renee's grimace of frustration, but Cassie was grateful for Lisa's comforting words. They needed help now more than they had at any other time in all their years on the run.

She moved toward the door.

"Your hair," her mother barked at her retreating back. "Go upstairs and do it right. You know better than that."

Cassie swallowed a retort and flounced up to room with the four-poster bed. She pawed through her suitcase until she found a ponytail holder and some clips. Don"t be memorable. That was another of her mother's favorite expressions. Her hair and her clothes had to be plainer than plain. Those curls of yours draw the eye, her mother always said, but Cassie hated putting her hair up; she had a rough patch of skin at the nape of her neck, as if she'd once been burned and hadn't healed properly. Her mother assured her it wasn't visible, but Cassie could feel it, so by habit she twisted her curls into a low loose bun. Then she pulled out the ends in an attempt to make it trendy. She fluffed her bangs back over the hideous bruise and eyed herself in the mirror. It would have to do. She pounded downstairs and out the door.

Once outside, Cassie couldn't stay upset. Sunshine flooded over her along with a scent so unfamiliar it took her several moments to identify it as the smell of the sea. Suddenly the studio held little appeal. Instead, she wandered through the courtyard to the wrought iron fence that bordered Lisa's property, and looked across the street at the meadow she'd seen the night before. She was pretty sure the ocean lay somewhere beyond it, but there was no sign of it from here. Curious, she walked through the gate, crossed the road, and stepped up on the split rail fence that ran along the meadow. As far as she could see, tall grass stretched into the distance, interrupted here and there by tangles of bushes and trees. No ocean anywhere. A small, white moth brushed past her face and Cassie smiled despite her disappointment.

Turning to go, she caught sight of something else; a young man was sitting perfectly still in the shade of a leafy bush to her left. His legs were crossed and his hands rested on his knees. His tan cotton t-shirt stretched across a wide, muscular back. He would be tall when he stood up, Cassie thought, taller than most men, but although he was looking away from her, somehow she knew he wasn't a grown-up. The way he was sitting, maybe; watching the world as if he were learning from it still. He was concentrating so hard he hadn't even noticed her there, so Cassie stepped carefully down off the rung of the fence.



Chapter Two - Sunday

When Cassie woke up the next morning, sunshine drifted through the windows, touching a carved wooden desk and a braided rug. A high dresser topped with a mirror sat in one corner of the room, an old-fashioned sewing box in another. She lay still until she couldn't stand it anymore, glorying in the feeling of a soft mattress and clean sheets, then slid out of the bed, moaning when she felt the soreness in her muscles. The events of the previous night flooded back into her memory as she lurched stiffly to the mirror, and she grimaced when she spotted the blue-black bruise over her eye.

That's not pretty, she thought. She finger-combed her dark brown waves over her forehead in an attempt to cover it. That looked a little better.

She found her suitcase outside her door and hobbled down the hall to the bathroom. A hot shower helped ease her stiffness and clear her head, and by the time she made her way to the kitchen she felt almost normal. When she entered the room, Lisa was helping her mother to sit down on a padded chair at the end of a built-in breakfast nook. The honey colored table and benches framed a window that looked out over the courtyard, but as Cassie approached she had eyes only for her mother. Renee moaned and clutched her ribs, her eyes squeezed shut. Cassie felt her heart sink; they'd have to find a doctor and her mother wouldn't like that one little bit.

"Are you okay?" Cassie asked as she hovered near the table. Her mother nodded, but didn't speak. She didn't seem okay.

"How about you?" Lisa asked, placing more cushions behind Renee. "Are you all right after your adventure last night?"

"Pretty much, except this." Cassie pulled her hair away from her forehead to show them the bruise.

"That looks painful," Lisa said. She wore a purple silk kimono today, its fabric folded over her wide hips and bosom, and her embroidered slippers slapped against the wood floor as she crossed the kitchen. Her hair was piled on top of her head with two lacquered sticks driven through it at angles.

Cassie slid onto one of the benches at the table, and looked out the window at the courtyard where flowers and bushes spilled over the flagstone pathways. Bamboo wind chimes clacked in the light breeze and water gurgled as it ran from a pipe into a barrel filled with lilies.

'Renee, I have to hand it to you - you are amazing,' Lisa said, settling down onto the bench across the table from Cassie with a plate stacked high with toast. 'You drive three thousand miles, crash your car, crack a rib, and you still look beautiful.'

'Hardly," Renee said, straightening just enough to take a sip of tea.

It was a stretch, Cassie agreed. Her mother looked like a refugee with her limp, unwashed hair and deep smudges under her eyes.

"You should have seen her in high school," Lisa said to Cassie. "The boys followed her around like sheep."

Renee made a face. "Like who?"

"Like Fisher," Lisa said easily. She buttered a slice of toast and balanced it on the edge of Renee's plate. "He was crazy about you."

"Fisher?" Cassie's mother looked like she had tasted something sour, and there was an odd note in her voice. "God, I haven't thought about him in years. He was crazy, all right."



"Who's Fisher? You never told me about him," Cassie said eagerly, looking from one woman to the other.

"I hated him, that's why."

Lisa froze, her toast halfway to her mouth. "Oh, come on, Renee," she said, "You didn't hate him; he was your friend."

"My friend? I don't think so!" Renee sat back carefully. "He was disgusting; he never bathed. He wore the same outfit every day for two years."

"So, he was poor," Lisa said, dropping her toast on her plate. She wiped the crumbs off her hands and leaned forward. "He couldn't help it, remember? That's what you always said."

"He stunk," Renee said. "And he followed me everywhere. He was a freak."

Lisa scowled, then quickly took a sip of her juice. "You didn't used to think so."

"Yes, I did," Renee said. Her voice brooked no opposition and though Lisa opened her mouth to answer back, she seemed to change her mind and shut it again.

Cassie watched the exchange with avid interest. Her mother never said anything about her high school years, and, unfortunately, she knew better than to ask.

"You should have seen the traffic in San Francisco last night," her mother said, changing the subject. She began to tell Lisa how they'd gotten lost after she made a wrong turn.

Cassie finished her meal in silence, and when it became clear there would be nothing more to learn today, she stood up to clear her place.

"Don't worry about those," Lisa said. She reached for the dishes. "Why don't you go check out my studio while your mother and I have some more tea?" She pointed at a small building across the courtyard.

"Is that where you have your darkroom?" Renee asked, turning gingerly to look out the window. Cassie noticed again that her mother's voice was thick with pain, though she was doing her best to hide it.

"Yes, and my gallery. I'm a photographer," Lisa explained to Cassie, "but I rent the other rooms out to massage practitioners and counselors, and there's a meeting room for larger groups, too. It's bigger than it looks over there," she added when Renee raised her eyebrows. "It helps pay the bills."

"I"d love to see it." Renee made as if to stand, but she winced and Lisa stopped her.

"Renee, for heaven's sake, you're not fooling anyone; you must be in excruciating pain. Sit down; you can see my studio another time."

"I promise we won't stay long enough to be a burden," Renee said, her control slipping just enough so that for an instant Cassie glimpsed real distress. Her stomach twisted and all the previous day's fears returned: what were they going to do?




She must have made a noise. He turned, caught her eye and was on his feet in an instant, with a graceful movement that seemed out of character for someone so large. He was sixteen or seventeen, she judged, taller even than she'd thought, with copper skin and wide cheekbones. His dark hair was cropped, his brown eyes curious, but friendly.

"Hi," he called out. "Nice morning.'

"Yeah - it's great," Cassie said, her heart giving a little thump; it had been so long since she'd talked to someone her own age, the words felt awkward in her mouth. She shook her bangs self-consciously so that they covered the bruise on her face as he ambled over to the fence. Was he Native American? she wondered, trying to place his features. Maybe. She couldn't tell for sure.

"Do you live over there?" he said, pointing toward Lisa's house, and she got the feeling he'd been waiting to ask someone this question. His voice carried the trace of an accent, but it wasn't one she recognized.

"No," she said. That was a safe enough answer.

"Just visiting?"

"Yes."

"I saw the sign in the window."

Cassie turned to look and sure enough, in Lisa's studio window was a small sign reading, Space for Rent. Inquire Within.

"What kind of a space is it?" the boy asked.

His interest had nothing to do with her, Cassie realized and she felt relieved. This was about Lisa - and Lisa wasn't hiding from anyone. She tried to remember what the woman had said.

"I think it's an office. For psychiatrists or something."

"Huh," he said, furrowing his brow as if that wasn't what he had expected. "The owner - is he Australian?"

Cassie shook her head. "It's a woman. Lisa...somebody. Lisa Hardy, I think." When the boy raised an eyebrow she rushed on, "I just met her. She's not from Australia, though."

"Where is she from?"

He seemed genuinely interested and Cassie wished she knew more to tell him. She wanted to prolong the conversation, acutely aware of the long, empty day that stretched in front of her.

"New York, I guess."

"New York?" he asked sharply and his expression changed. "Are you sure? When did she get here?"

"I don't know. Why?" Cassie's anxiety returned. Had she said too much? She replayed the conversation in her mind. No; Lisa had nothing to hide.

He looked at the house. "Just - I'm from New York, too. Lisa Hardy, you said?"

Cassie nodded again, reluctantly this time, but she told herself not to be paranoid. She was in California now; there was nothing to fear here.

"Thanks. That's a big help." He moved as if to leave, then turned suddenly turned back toward her, focusing on her for the first time. "Is that where you're from?"



The question caught her off guard. It was where she'd been born, certainly, but for the last nine years she'd lived all over the eastern seaboard. Don't answer personal questions, her mother's voice rang in her ears.

"Um...I..."

The young man bent forward and peered into her face.

"Cassie?"

"Cassie! Cassie, where are you?" Lisa called from behind her, but Cassie barely heard her through the sudden roaring in her ears. She stared up at the boy in shock, the blood draining from her face.

Caught. She was caught.

"N-no," she faltered, backing away from him. He vaulted the fence easily, closing the distance between them with an expression that seemed both stunned and almost...triumpant, Cassie thought. She shook her head. Well, of course he was triumphant; he'd found her, hadn't he? Wasn't that what he'd come for? As he stopped in front of her, she had to tilt her head back in order to see his face; she barely came up to his chest. She wouldn't stand a chance against him. A band of fear tightened around her heart. Would he take her to her father or kill her right now, right here on the street? She took another step backward and stumbled as her heel caught the edge of the curb. He reached out to steady her, but she flinched away.

"No!" she said. She meant it to be a scream, but it came out a whisper.

"Cassie!" Lisa called again. The boy glanced across the street, then back at her.

"It is you, isn't it?" he said.

It wasn't a question. Could she possibly run fast enough to get away from him? Could she get Lisa inside and bolt the door behind them before he made it across the street? Or would he just break it down? He looked entirely capable of it.

Her throat was so dry she could hardly swallow. How could she have been so stupid? Hadn't her mother warned her a million times not to wander off? Your father has help; they're everywhere, she always said, but Cassie hadn't listened to her, not for years, anyway, and she had never pictured his help taking the form of an overgrown teenager.

But why not? What better way to catch a lonely girl than to throw a boy in her path? A boy with an open, youthful face that inspired trust. A boy big enough to crush her between his hands.

A scream built in her throat, but she couldn't force it out. She couldn't make a sound. He leaned in closer.

"Cassie? What's wrong?"

She raised an arm to ward him off and this time he caught her easily. His hand closed around her elbow, warm and rough against her skin. The scream dried before she could voice it.

"Cassie!" Lisa was getting closer. The boy lifted his head and looked over her shoulder.

"Someone's calling you," he said, giving her a little shake. "Shouldn't you answer?"

He turned her around gently and gave her a nudge toward Lisa. Cassie stumbled the first few steps, confused by this turn of events, but then her wits caught up to her and she seized her chance, fleeing across the street before he could grab her again. In her haste to get away, she crashed against the wrought iron gate and wasted precious moments trying to undo the catch, but a quick glance over her shoulder told her the boy hadn't moved. He was watching her with a puzzled expression, his hands jammed in his pockets.

"What took you so long? Didn't you hear me calling?" Lisa appeared in front of her on the other side of the fence and unlatched the gate. She took Cassie's arm, pulled her onto the flagstone path, and began to march her toward the front door. "I thought I was going to have to come out after you."

"I came as soon...we have to..." But now the boy was smiling and waving. He didn't look the least bit frightening; he looked young and sheepish, as if he was trying to gather the courage to call out after her.

"What were you doing out there anyway?" Lisa asked, following her glance backward. "Who is that boy?"

"I was...nothing, he's no one," Cassie blurted, tugging her toward the house. "I was just looking at the meadow. I wanted to know if I could see the ocean from here."

Lisa made a face. "I don't have an ocean view, but if you follow the trail that starts down the road, you'll get to a place where you can see the harbor." She let Cassie pull her the rest of the way to the porch. "Your mom was worried," she added, as if she'd just remembered why she came outside in the first place. "She thought you'd wandered off."

Cassie looked back over her shoulder in time to see the boy turn around and trudge off down the street. His hands were back in his pockets and his shoulders were drawn inward in an attitude of defeat. She was such an idiot; he wasn't working for her father, he was just a kid. He'd heard Lisa calling her before she had; that's how he knew her name. He'd just been trying to be friendly, and she'd reacted like he had pulled a gun. You are such an loser, she berated herself as she followed Lisa up the steps. Your first chance to talk to a boy in years and you act like a lunatic. It wasn't her fault, though, she thought angrily. With a mom like hers, what chance did she have to be normal?

"I was just looking at the meadow," she said again while her mind raced. Was it too late to fix things? Was the boy still out there? Could she get his attention?

"Well, your mom said..." Lisa looked uncomfortable. "She wants you close, honey. You can either go to the studio or come back inside."

"Fine," Cassie said, and her anger flared again. "I'll be in the studio." She didn't wait for an answer. She hurried to the building and darted inside. She would find the window with the sign in it and get the boy's attention from there.



She entered a tiny waiting area where a loveseat and two chairs huddled around a coffee table piled with dog-eared magazines. The sight of this unexpected bonanza, left out in the open with no one to watch over them, stopped her in her tracks, but only for a moment; she had more important things to do than steal periodicals.

A bathroom opened off of the left side of the waiting room. To her right, a small room held a massage table. She hurried down the central hall and came upon Lisa's darkroom next. It smelled of chemicals and was full of unfamiliar equipment. Shallow basins of liquid sat on a counter and prints hung from a line to dry. The wall closest to the door was lined with cardboard boxes. Cassie flipped one open and found a cake of modeling clay inside, cushioned in a styrofoam insert. Losing interest, she crossed the hall and found herself in a much larger room.

This must be the one for meetings, she thought. Sunlight streamed in through two stained glass panels on either side of a picture window. Tucked in a corner was the sign.

Cassie rushed to look out. She could see the street and the meadow beyond it, but the young man had disappeared. She craned her head to the side, placing her forehead against the glass for a better view, but it was no use; he was definitely gone.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she berated herself, backing away from the window. How could she let her mother's paranoia affect her like that? It was no use hoping he would come back, either; not when she'd acted like such an idiot. He was probably already laughing with his friends about the crazy girl he'd just met. She retraced her steps slowly and shut the door behind her as she entered the courtyard again, her spirits lower than they'd been in months.

As she neared the house, she heard the clink of china and the creak of weight shifting on the wooden benches inside the kitchen. Her mother and Lisa were talking in low voices. Cassie drifted toward the sound, staying out of the women's sight.

"He didn't have to do it, you know?" her mother said, her voice strained to the point of tears. "I never expected anything from him. When he didn't come back, I got over it and moved on with my life. Why couldn't he just stay gone?"

"You're sure it was Rob who killed your parents?" Lisa asked.

"Of course it was him. I found his ring."

They were talking about her father. Her disappointment forgotten, Cassie crept closer until she stood directly under the window. There was a pause and then Lisa gasped. "You still have it? Renee, throw that out - why are you keeping it?"

"I keep trying to throw it out but I can't make myself do it. It's proof, right? Proof that I'm not crazy - proof that he's really after us and I'm only doing what I have to do."

"You know, none of this would ever have happened if you'd stuck with Fisher," Lisa said. "Rob was trouble from the get-go."

"Fisher? I wouldn't be with him if he were the last man on earth."

Cassie listened to the silence stretch out between the women. Next to her, a rose bush climbed a trellis attached to the shingled wall of Lisa's house, and she touched a flower absently, stroking its petals.

"I had no idea you felt that way," Lisa said finally. "I remember how well the two of you used to get along."

"Don't pretend we were all friends," her mother said scornfully. "I remember how you treated him, Lisa Hardy. Like dirt, that's how. You made it very clear you didn't want him around."

Lisa seemed not to have an answer for this and Cassie found herself feeling sorry for Fisher, whoever he was.

"I've grown up some since then," Lisa said. "Haven't you?"



"Yes, I have," Renee said. "Enough to know that the past should stay in the past."

There was another pause and then Lisa laughed, a fake-sounding, girlish laugh. "For heaven's sakes, we've wasted fifteen years because of a petty fight. Let's not start another one."

"Fine," Renee said, but her voice cracked on the word and Cassie narrowed her eyes.

"Renee," Lisa said. "Honey, are you all right?"

"No," Renee's voice was raw with emotion. "I mean, yes, of course..." but Cassie could tell her mother was crying. "No, I'm not. I can't do this anymore. I nearly killed Cassie last night, after everything I've done to keep her safe."

Lisa tried to comfort her, murmuring, "It's okay, honey. It's all going to be okay."

"How is it going to be okay? Rob doesn't stop - he keeps coming after us. Everywhere we go - everywhere I try to hide, he finds me. What am I going to do? Oh!"

Cassie flinched and the rose popped off of its stem. She looked at it where it lay in the palm of her hand, overblown and tattered. Her mother must have moved too quickly and hurt her sore ribs. Now she was sobbing in long, ragged cries.

"Renee," Lisa said sharply. "Listen to me. That's done with and everything's going to change. You screwed up once, but that doesn't mean you have to ruin your life over it. I'm going to help you, and the first thing I'm going to do is get you back to bed. You need sleep - lots of sleep, honey - and then we'll figure everything out."

"You can't figure this out," her mother wailed. "It never stops."

"It stops right now. I'm going to stop it." And Lisa sounded so sure Cassie half believed her.

A chair scraped back and she pictured Lisa helping her mother up from the table. When the women's footsteps had retreated into the distance, Cassie made her way around to the front door and let herself in. She met Lisa in the hallway coming back from the bedroom.

"How did you like my studio?" Lisa asked, leading the way back into the kitchen, where a teakettle was whistling on the stove. Turning off the burner, she got out two cups and placed a tea bag in each.

"The stained-glass windows are pretty," Cassie said. Her mind was racing with what she'd just heard and she found it hard to concentrate on what Lisa was saying. Who was this Fisher person, and had her mother liked him or not? What did Rob's ring look like? She would give anything to know.

"The ones in the meeting room? They're half the reason I bought this place." Lisa fumbled in a cupboard over the sink and pulled out a clear, yellow prescription bottle. She shook two pills into her hand and dropped them into one of the cups. Lifting it to her mouth, she blew across the steaming surface.

"How's Mom doing?" Cassie asked.

"Not so good. She's lying down and you should probably do the same. A bump on the head is nothing to sneeze at, you know. How does it feel?" Lisa set the cup back down.

"Still a little sore."

"Well, I'm just glad you two were here in town when the accident happened. What would you have done if you hadn't been?" She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I don't know." What would she have done?

"Well, that's all right," Lisa said kindly. "You're here now and I'll take care of everything. Go on up and take a rest. Tomorrow you'll feel better, and we'll plan something fun for you to do."

I'm not allowed to have fun, she almost said, but she stopped herself in time. Lisa didn't know how things were - not really. She didn't know she wasn't allowed out of sight or that she and her mother rarely left home. Cassie climbed the stairs obediently. Maybe this time things actually would be different. Maybe Lisa would help them after all.