I was certain I had lost them, all of them: McColl, Gladden, Shaw. But I could not shake the feeling of being followed. The itch made me crane around and look out the back window of the bus as it cruised up Pacific Coast Highway. The short Indian woman in the seat next to me who was holding a stuffed pillowcase on her lap said, “Are you being followed, too?” “Careful,” I said. “I think they can hear everything.” She gathered her pillowcase and edged past me to a row near the front. I slid over to the window seat. The itch stayed with me, though I refused to scratch it again. The bus moved slowly through the Malibu traffic. Surfers bobbed in a loose, smug pack. Slowly one turned and paddled farther from the beach, another followed, and another, like a flock that mysteriously decides it would prefer to occupy the tree over there. The bus lurched forward before I could watch the rest of them form a wedge when they followed. Hal had said Dan arrived from Ventura County with me in tow, so to justify my trip there, I formed pictures of Kate McFarlanes who had stayed behind.
What do You think about Caravan Of Thieves (2012)?
