“A prototype device for tracking pets,” I say. “It uses a tiny tracker. Waterproof and impact resistant. My dad showed it to us once. Apparently, my mom liked it a lot. ”
“He was an engineer?”
“He was,” I say. I don’t tell her that by the time he finally left us, he was working night shifts at 7-Eleven, our nearest convenience store, where Mom could sit in the corner while he worked the cash register.
“My husband Brad was an engineer, too,” she says wistfully, almost to herself.
On my mom’s device, the arrow blinks and follows a path. Its target is on the move.
“What are we tracking?” I ask.
“Paige,” says Mom.
“How do you know this is Paige?” I ask, pretty sure this is another fantasy. It’s one thing to have Dad’s tracking device. It’s another to actually be tracking Paige, considering she needs to have the transmitter on her.
“The devil tells me. ” She lowers her head, looking troubled. “If I promise him certain things,” she mumbles.
“Okay. ” I rub my forehead, trying to be patient. There’s a certain art to getting information out of my mom. You need one foot in reality and one foot in her world to get a better picture of what she’s talking about. “How does the devil know where Paige is?”
She looks up at me as if I’d asked the dumbest question in the world.
“The transmitter, of course. ”
Chpater 25
SOMETIMES, even I make the mistake of underestimating my mother. It’s easy to assume that she’s not smart and cunning just because she believes in illogical things and makes poor decisions. But her condition has nothing to do with her intelligence. I forget that sometimes.
“Is the transmitter on Paige?” I hold my breath, not daring to breathe.
“Yes. ”
“Where? How?” If Mom had put the transmitter in a bag or something, thinking that Paige would have it on her, then we might be following a Resistance trash truck instead of Paige.
“There. ” Mom points to my shoe.
I look down and at first I don’t see anything. Then I realize that she’s not pointing at the shoe. She’s pointing at the yellow starburst sewn on the bottom of my jeans. I’m so used to these starbursts that I don’t even see them anymore.
I reach down to take a good look at the star for the first time. A hard corner beneath the yellow threads pokes into my thumb. It’s tiny and unnoticeable, or at least I’ve never noticed it.
“This is you,” she says, with her finger on the lower arrow in Redwood City.
“Thi
s is Paige. ” She moves her finger to the upper arrow in San Francisco.
Could she have gone so far in such a short time?
I take a deep breath. Who knows what she’s capable of doing now?
I remember Dad showing us a tiny flake of a chip perched on the tip of his finger. He had handfuls of them in the container with the receiver. The chip was covered in plastic coating that made it dirt-free and waterproof, so the dogs could roll in the mud and be sprayed off without affecting the transmitter.
This is how Mom showed up so regularly when Raffe and I were on the road. This is how she ended up at the aerie.
“Mom, you’re a genius. ”
My mother looks surprised. Then she beams a delighted smile. I haven’t seen her this happy since I don’t know when. Her face radiates joy like a little girl who just found out she did something right for the first time in her life.
I nod. “Good job, Mom. ” Kind of a disturbing eye-opener to realize that your own parent needs encouragement from you.
WE DITCH the noisy police car for a quiet electric vehicle that has the keys in the ignition.
I rummage through the police cruiser’s glove compartment and trunk for anything useful to transfer into the new car. I score binoculars and a grab-and-go bag full of emergency supplies. If there’s one thing Obi’s men are good at, it’s survival on the run. I suspect all the Resistance vehicles have these.
Clara takes me aside on our way into the new car. “Don’t get your hopes up,” she whispers.
“Don’t worry. I know my chances of finding Paige are slim. ”
“I don’t mean that. I mean about your mom. ”
“Believe me, I have no hopes about her. ”
“But you do. I can see it. There’s a saying, ‘Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. ’ Well, the reverse is true too. Just because someone’s out to get you doesn’t mean you’re not paranoid. ”
“I don’t understand. ”
“The world going crazy doesn’t mean your mother isn’t still crazy, too. ”
I pull back from her. I wasn’t thinking that.
Not really.
But did she have to steal that possibility away from me?
“I used to be a nurse. I know how hard this kind of condition can be for a family. It can help to talk about it. I just don’t want you to get hurt, thinking your mom might be—”
I kick in the headlights and running lights on the new car to keep it from being a beacon. I smash them so hard the bulbs are practically pulverized.
We don’t need those lights. There’s enough moonlight to see the hulks of cars on the road even if we can’t see much detail.