I took a few deep breaths, gathered myself together, and pulled back onto the road. I offered to ignore Trapp's driving directions and just take Toni directly home, but she said she was willing to go "wherever the wind took us."
At the signal he told me to turn right.
Toni remained silent, lost in her own thoughts, but then she suddenly laughed and said, "I guess I should have figured it out when you kept making your contracts!" Then she said she was sorry, and gave my wrist a pat.
"No, I know," I assured her.
When we reached Cross Canyon Boulevard, our destination became clear to me. "We're going to his house," I informed my passenger.
I received no more instructions for the remainder of the trip. A short while later, I pulled into his driveway, and Toni and I climbed out of the car.
When I was six, my uncle's house had seemed like a castle to me. As I stared at it now, with its massive stone walls and bolted shutters, it seemed that way again.
"Now what?" Toni asked.
I had no clue. "Do you know who owns this house now?" I asked.
"I think it's in probate."
"What does that mean?"
Toni shrugged as she blew a stream of air out of the corner of her mouth. "It's just a word I've heard a lot," she admitted.
We slowly approached the front door. She took hold of my arm and whispered, "What if Trapp and Annabel are in there?"
I froze.
"I'm kidding," Toni said with a laugh, then added, "I think."
I tried the door, but it was locked. I was about to ring the doorbell but changed my mind. It seemed more appropriate to use the goat's-head knocker.
We took a few steps back and waited. Nothing happened. I rang the doorbell. Still nothing.
"Has Annabel said anything to you about this?" I asked.
"This is your hallucination, not mine," Toni replied, smiling.
I backed away from the door. A stone wall surrounded the house. If I could climb it, I thought, I could try the back door, or maybe I'd find a secret entrance.
"Ninety-three, ninety-one," said Trapp.
"Ninety-three, ninety-one," I repeated.
"What?" asked Toni.
"He just said, ‘Ninety-three, ninety-one.' "
Neither of us could remember Trapp's address. I had used it the first time to get to his house, but that had been over a month ago. There were no numbers posted by the door.
I walked the length of his driveway to the mailbox. It was numbered 621.
It occurred to me that maybe I wasn't supposed to go to his house after all. I hadn't perceived any more driving instructions from him since I'd turned onto Cross Canyon Boulevard. I had just assumed this was the destination.
I looked around. There were only a few other houses on the street. It seemed pretty doubtful that Trapp's address could be 621 and another could be 9391.
I got an idea. I went to my car and retrieved my cell phone. I pressed 9-3-9-1, then Send.
Nothing.
Toni came up beside me. "Do you know the right area code?" she asked.
I hung up.
"What would you have done if he'd answered?" she asked.
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" I asked.
She smiled. "For once in my life, I'm not the one who's crazy!"
I returned to the front door and tried it again.
"Is it still locked?" Toni asked from the driveway.
"You got any better ideas?"
A look of realization crossed her face. She hurried to the garage.
A keypad was attached to the side wall. By the time I got there she had already entered the first two numbers. I watched as she pressed the nine and then the one.
Nothing.
"They probably turned off the electricity," I said.
She pressed the star key. I heard the low rumble of a motor, and then the garage door slowly rose.
There was no way my subconscious mind would have known the code to his garage door opener—at least, none that my conscious mind could think of.
The only vehicles in the garage were a rusted tandem bicycle and a wheelbarrow with a flat tire. There were also a refrigerator, some garden tools, a croquet set, and at least forty boxes, stacked three rows deep along the right-side wall.
At the rear of the garage was a door leading into the main part of the house. It was also locked.
"We might as well start on the boxes," I said.
I dragged one away from the wall and ripped off the packing tape. Inside were various office products, including a container of paper clips, a stapler, and one of those contraptions with swinging silver balls that bang against each other.
"Canned peas," said Trapp.
Toni was going through a different box. "What are we looking for?" she asked.
"A can of peas," I answered, as if that were a perfectly normal reply.
She eyed me dubiously.