We Know

"Everyone's got reasons for everything. She left us. She left us holding the bag. I'm not interested in how she'll justify it this time around."

I pictured Callie's face, hard with resentment: You haven't shown up for a damn thing in seventeen years. "You're right," I said. "It must feel pretty crappy from your end."

Glenda's face seemed to draw into itself, the wrinkles moving but not really moving at all.

"Maybe I could talk to Harriet?" I asked. "Just for a minute?"

"I'll see how she's feeling."

The door closed in my face.

A moment later the door opened again. Glenda was already shuffling back in. America s Funniest Home Videos played softly on the TV. A cat was leaping around a ball of yarn, accompanied by wacky circus music. The apartment smelled worse inside, something lingering under all that talcum powder. She headed down a shag-carpeted hall, calling over her shoulder, "I just gave her artificial tears, so she should be okay to look at you."

I asked quietly, "Artificial tears?"

She pressed through a door into the master bedroom. An emaciated female form indented the poufy sheets of the enormous canopied bed. Her skin was yellowed, like parchment, and the muscles under her face had atrophied. Medical equipment all around-poles and IVs and monitors. Her left arm dangled off the edge of the mattress. A nightstand held endless pill bottles. Harriet Landreth's eyes pulled over to us, but she couldn't turn her head. Her mouth tensed in a faint smile.

It was stronger in here, that scent, the one that draws vultures across desert miles.

Glenda crossed and picked up Harriet's right hand-dead weight-and set it on a tray holding a computer mouse with a tiny protruding bud. She guided her younger sister's finger to the bud until Harriet blinked twice.

"Hungry, love?" Glenda asked.

Harriet's eyes rolled to a computer screen, and her finger made some minuscule movements. A speaker emitted a loud, synthesized voice, startling me. I CAN'T EAT ANY MORE OF THAT SOUP YOU USE TOO MUCH SALT.

Glenda waved off her sister. "Then I'll bring you plain chicken broth, and you can quit nagging at me with that horrible voice." She shook her head at me, morbidly amused.

The slow, electronic words issued again from her sister's synthesizer. WILL YOU PUT MY LEFT ARM BACK ON THE MATTRESS IT IS

BOTHERING ME.

"You can't feel anything, love."

PHANTOM PAIN PINS AND NEEDLES I

CAN NOT STAND IT.

Glenda circled the bed, picked up the dangling arm, and set it on the sheets next to Harriet's side. As Glenda moved around, picking up dirty cups and plates, I stood in the bustle, overwhelmed and trying not to act it. A cord snaked from the computer monitor, leading to a digital telephone on the nightstand.

"You should have seen this cat on the TV. It jumped and jumped over a ball of yarn, and then the Jewish comedian said it was raining cats and cats." Glenda chuckled. "Cats and cats."

THAT SHOW WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME HA HA BAD ENOUGH TO WATCH BUT TO

HEAR IT DESCRIBED HAVE MERCY IT IS NOT AS THOUGH I CAN RUN OUT OF

HERE.

Glenda waved a hand our way, dismissing us both from consideration, and withdrew, leaving me alone with Harriet.

Those dark pupils tracked over from the computer screen, finding me. Sentient, intelligent eyes, beautiful blue. YOU ARE A FRIEND OF

TRIS.

I assumed it was a question. Looking at her, I couldn't bring myself to lie. "Not a friend, exactly. I'm trying to find her. My name's Nick."

WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO FIND HER.

I sensed she was angry, but, unable to read tone, I felt unmoored. "My stepfather was killed seventeen years ago. I think she may know something about it."

I HAVEN'T SEEN TRIS IN YEARS.

A lie, based on what Glenda had told me at the door. It occurred to me that Harriet had agreed to see me only so she could find out what I was up to and notify Tris.

I cleared my throat. "Do you know where she is? I'd really like to talk to her."

Her muscles moved in fleeting twitches just beneath the papery skin. WE ARE NOT IN TOUCH.

"It's not only for me," I said. "I need to warn her about something." Those blank eyes stared back at me. "I think she might want to talk to me, too."

A long wait as that finger pulsed against the bud. And then, YOU

COULD NOT UNDERSTAND THE FIRST THING ABOUT HER.

"I understand more than you realize."

Harriet's blinks were getting longer. She was having trouble holding her eyes open.

"Can I leave you my phone number to give her if she does contact you?"

Beyond her dry lips, her tongue worked, her jaw clicking with agitation. A spider thread of drool reached down and touched her shirt. YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU LIKE.