The Road To Echo Point

She turned to check Daisy’s bed. Empty. How could that be? It seemed only a moment ago that the woman had drifted off to sleep after reminiscing about her dance studio.

Vi muttered an oath as she swung her legs over the side of the daybed, ignoring the dull throb in her temples. Her bare toes curled away from the cold tile, but she pushed through the discomfort. No time for slippers. The reflective tape was cool, eerie beneath her fingers, as she followed it toward the bathroom. The door was open.

Her breath came in deep, ragged breaths, her pulse pounded. No light. Where could the woman be?

She rounded the door frame to check.

There she was, slumped on the toilet seat, her chin resting on her chest.

Thank God.

“Daisy?” She touched the woman’s arm, then gently shook her shoulder.

No response.

CHAPTER FOUR

“I THOUGHT I’D LOST HER.”

Vi waited for the bombshell to sink in. She held her coffee cup suspended at chin level, denying herself that first luscious swallow. Hot, steamy fingers of aroma wafted upward, stinging her nose. Caffeine withdrawal seemed like a light sentence for her crime.

“Hum?”

Ian leaned against the kitchen counter, more interested in cramming a whole power bar in his mouth than her confession. He wore black nylon shorts, a white T-shirt and a gray hooded sweatshirt, his usual running uniform. The senior center bus had barely chugged down the drive, and he was ready to go.

“I said, I thought I lost her,” she bit off every word, enunciating clearly. “I got up with her at midnight, one-thirty and three. No problem. But the last time…I didn’t wake up. Didn’t even hear her until she was out the bedroom door. I’m not a real rise-and-shine kind of person—it took me a couple minutes to get going. By the time I found her, she was asleep in the bathroom.”

Ian chewed slowly. His jaw was smooth for once, his eyes alert and ready for the day. He looked years younger than the first time she’d seen him, boyish almost. Except for the frown.

“You found her. No harm done.”

“But what if I don’t next time? What then?”

“Look, you can do this. I wouldn’t trust you with her otherwise.”

“Why are you so sure you can trust me?”

“You’re smart and determined.” He hesitated for a moment. “And whether you admit it or not, you care.”

Restless energy prodded her into action. She paced the kitchen floor. “No way, you’ve got me all wrong. My career is the most important thing in the world to me. And right now it’s in danger of going down the tubes. I’m behind already and so exhausted I can’t string together a coherent thought.”

Ian shrugged. “You’ll get used to it. Just sleep in the day.”

“I can’t. That’s when I get my work done. I’ve still got a job to do, no matter what happens here.” The tightness in her chest expanded to a fist-sized knot of frustration. “I’ve got a shot at District Claims Manager. It’s big, really big.”

He hesitated, chewing slowly. “Okay, so you sleep during the day, then work at night in Daisy’s room. We’ll set up a desk.”

“You don’t understand. I get tunnel vision when I’m working. The whole place could burn down and I’d never notice. Besides, Daisy’d be a wreck—the light, rustling papers, dictation. She wouldn’t sleep a wink.”

Ian pushed away from the counter. He loomed over her, his bulk no longer benign. “So what do you want me to do? Let you off the hook? Say okay, go back to your important job in Phoenix. We’ll manage just fine. Well, you know what, we won’t manage, thanks to you. And I won’t let you off the hook. Nice try.”

He crumpled the wrapper and tossed it in the general direction of the trash can. “I’m going for a run. You do whatever you want. Just don’t leave.”

It was hard to believe this was the same guy who tended the old lady with such patience. There was a hard glint in his eyes and his voice vibrated with anger, as if he wanted to wrap those big hands around her throat and squeeze. Hard.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he slammed out the kitchen door without a backward look. She wasn’t worth the effort to strangle.

Vi set her coffee cup down on the counter and pushed it away. Then she bent over and banged her forehead against the Formica. Once, twice, three times. Not hard enough for it to hurt, but she hoped hard enough to knock some sense into her.

“What am I going to do?” she asked the empty room. As long as the walls didn’t answer, she figured she must have a shred of sanity left.

Daisy could have been lost, or seriously hurt. It had seemed simple enough. Watch Daisy sleep. She hadn’t counted on getting only a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep a night. It was starting to take a toll. Her eyes were gritty, her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

Vi rubbed her temples as she mulled over the whole mess. She’d have to adapt, somehow. That was the key to survival. In nature, in the corporate jungle, even in this weird house. Adapt or die. But how to adapt to something she couldn’t understand and couldn’t predict? The old woman and her idiosyncrasies ruled the whole house, no matter what time of day. Like yesterday. Only a few glorious moments at the computer before Daisy wandered in and accused her of all sorts of nasty things. Theft, kidnapping, murder, they were all part of Vi’s M.O., according to Daisy.

She would get used to it, Ian had said. Ha! Changing her sleep schedule was next to impossible. It was like an alarm went off somewhere the instant her head made contact with a pillow during the day. So much as a long blink and Daisy would wind up. It could be something as simple as a bath and World War III would erupt. Even the thick adobe walls couldn’t block out the yelling, the slap-slap of escaping bare feet on tile, the thud of Ian’s tread in hot pursuit. And sometimes, a dirty word or two.

Once, before she learned to lock her door, Daisy had rushed into her room. The old woman had been nearly naked, her eyes wide with fear, her breathing shallow.

Vi shook her head as she remembered the strange episode.

Daisy hadn’t said a word. Just stood there, scrawny arms wrapped across her sagging, wrinkled breasts, and shook her head frantically from side to side.

Ian had followed close behind, his breathing labored, as if he’d run an eight minute mile.

“Mom…” he’d gasped.

Daisy had feinted to the left, then dodged right.

But Ian was too quick for her. He wrapped her in a big bear hug from behind.

She bit and clawed and lashed out. “Let me go,” she screeched. The air crackled with her terror.

Ian let go.

She backed away from him and cowered in a corner.

It took several minutes for Ian to catch his breath. Vi waited, mute, unable to differentiate between perpetrator and victim.

Finally, he said, “It’s okay, Mom. No bath today. I’ll get you a nice warm washcloth to sponge yourself down with.”

“I don’t need a bath. Had one yesterday.”

“Sure you did.” His voice held more defeat than conviction. “But a warm washcloth wouldn’t hurt. You know, knock down the trail dust.”

“It’s a trick. Just like that woman.” She pointed an accusing finger in Vi’s direction. “She was sent to spy on me.”