basin with the promise of rain. Instead all the city got was bleak weather—dirty fog and damp air. The low sixties bordered on coat weather, but a good cable-knit sweater would do in a pinch. The only reason Marge wore her leather jacket was for fashion. She had purchased it last year at the Camarillo Outlets—a favorite meeting spot for her and her boyfriend, Will, who worked in Santa Barbara. Theirs was a long-distance relationship that worked well.Lisbeth and Ramon Holly’s house was her last stop before she and Oliver were kicked loose. The address put them at a sixties ranch house in a neighborhood of modest homes on small lots and no sidewalks. Lawns were dotted with mature trees, most of them bare except for the pines and cedars that stretched to the pewter skies. Although it was two months past the holidays, some of the houses still had multicolored Christmas lights twinkling in the dusk. It was straight up five in the afternoon and the sun had set. A distinct chill hovered.
