Nowhere to Run. Nancy Bush

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Chapter 3

      “You put him in a trance!” Della snapped.

      Liv looked at Hague with resignation. She wanted to call him back, but it was too late. It was futile to try to rouse him when he disappeared into his own world.

      She slid a glance at the photograph. Zombie man . . .

      Della fussed over Hague, tilting his head back in the La-Z-Boy recliner he practically lived in. Hague didn’t trust computers or telephones, especially cell phones; he was more of a Luddite than Liv. He was absolutely certain malicious groups bent on evil and destruction were tracking him. He spent hour upon hour calculating figures on lined yellow paper with an ink pen. Della worked part-time as a care assistant at a nearby assisted living/nursing home facility. Hague, who’d never been able to keep a job, received government assistance, and she thought maybe her father subsidized them as well. However, that would only be if Lorinda, the evil stepmother, didn’t know about the tap on Albert’s finances, which was questionable.

      As if she could read Liv’s thoughts, Della said, “Albert’s coming by.”

      Liv reached for the pictures, note and birth certificate and she saw that her hands were trembling. She felt guilty enough for sending Hague into the trance; Della’s accusation hadn’t been necessary. “He is?” Liv couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her father.

      “He called,” she said with a certain satisfaction.

      Ignoring that, Liv asked, “Does he see Hague often?” Since Lorinda had entered their lives, both Liv and Hague’s relationship with Albert had suffered, and in Liv’s case it had become basically nonexistent.

      “Now and again. He’s not good with Hague, either.”

      “When is he showing up?”

      Della shot a glance at the old grandfather’s clock, which stood against the living room’s far wall. It was the kind that was wound with a key. Hague liked to limit their amount of electricity use in any way he could, and it wasn’t that he was trying to lessen his carbon footprint, he just wanted to make himself smaller and more indistinct in the world, and therefore less traceable. The less information the “government” or “powers that be” had on him, the better.

      “Anytime, now,” Della answered.

      “I’ve got to be going,” she said.

      “Oh, no, stay. Maybe Hague’ll come out of it. . . .”

      Liv arched a brow. She and Della both knew Hague’s fugue states were unpredictable, but it was rare that he snapped back within a few minutes.

      Della added, “We could go down to Rosa’s Cantina and talk. Hague has his own table there.”

      Rosa’s Cantina was on the street level of the apartment building. Liv had seen its bright green and yellow neon sign when she’d entered. She knew Hague went to Rosa’s; his only habitual place of business, and she suspected his “own table” was the establishment’s way of appeasing him, and wondered what would happen were someone already at his table should Hague arrive. An ugly scene, no doubt.

      In any case, he wasn’t going to make it there tonight, and Liv wasn’t interested in going there with Della. “Is Albert bringing Lorinda?” she asked.

      “I’m sure.” Della made a face. Their mutual dislike of Lorinda was the only thing Liv and Della totally agreed upon. “Can I get you a cup of tea?” Now she was accommodating with a capital A. “Have you had dinner? No, you’re just off work. I could make up some sandwiches. Tuna. Hague doesn’t really like meat, as you know. Or, grilled cheese?”

      “I appreciate it, but I really should get going.”

      “I’m sorry I was a bitch,” Della said suddenly. “But with Hague like that . . .” She glanced toward him where he sat with head lying back, his eyes now open and staring sightlessly toward the ceiling, “I don’t really know what I’ll say to Albert. We don’t have a lot in common except your brother.”

      Liv didn’t have a lot in common with her father, either. “I’ve got groceries in the car,” she lied.

      “Tell me more about this package. I can talk about it with Hague and it’ll be easier coming from me. I know him.”

      “He already read the note and saw the photos. There’s not a lot more to tell.” Liv glanced at her brother. “He was a toddler when our mother committed suicide.”

      “I want—”

      But what she wanted was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, a deep dong, like a ship’s tolling bell.

      “He’s here,” Della said. She lifted her chin as Liv girded her loins.

      Della walked briskly to the door and threw it open. Liv followed after her, a few paces back, and when СКАЧАТЬ