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“we were going home and—”
    Helen had stiffened even before the policeman said, “You were driving away from Santa Monica, Martin.”
    Chris drew in a shaky breath.
    “I mean my mother-in-law’s house,” he said. “She lives in Malibu. To tell you the truth, we’ve been—arguing and I’m taking my wife to her mother’s house. I’m very upset. That’s why I was going so fast. I wasn’t paying attention.”
    The policeman looked at Chris another moment, then at Helen. “Is that right?” he asked.
    If I told him now, it would be over, she thought. But, even as she thought it, she was nodding. “Yes,” she said.
    “Well,” said the policeman, “I’ll have to give you a ticket, I’m afraid. You were going pretty fast. But I won’t put down your actual speed. That way you won’t have to appear in court.”
    “Thank you,” said Chris.
    They sat there quietly while the two policemen returned to their car. Helen sat staring at the light on the roof of the police car. It glared hypnotically into her eyes, then was gone, glared, was gone. In the back seat, Connie snored gently.
    After a few minutes, the policeman returned and handed Chris the license and the ticket book. Chris signed his name and wrote his address. Then the policeman tore out the ticket and handed it in through the window.
    “Take it slower now,” he said.
    Chris nodded. “I will.”
    The policeman cleared his throat.
    “Look, it’s none of my business,” he said, “but—well, I’m an old married man myself. I have four kids and the missus and I have been through a lot together.”
    He smiled at them. “What I mean is, these things seem a lot worse at night than they really are. I’m not trying to interfere but—well, why not wait till tomorrow before you decide anything? Go home, sleep on it. You’ll find it’s not half so bad in the morning.”
    Helen braced herself.
    “Thank you,” she said. “We will.”
    The policeman smiled again. “Good,” he said. “Take it easy now.”
    When he’d left, Chris said, “Now what are we going to do?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “We’ll have to turn back and I was going to Latigo Canyon.”
    “Oh.”
    Chris started the engine. When the police car had pulled off the shoulder and disappeared around a bend ahead, he made a U-turn and started back toward Santa Monica. He kept looking up at the rear-view mirror to see if the police car were following.
    “Where are we going to put him?” she asked.
    “I guess it’ll have to be Topanga,” he said.
    Helen twisted around and looked at Connie to see if she was all right. Then, unable to stop herself, she looked down at the floor. As the car turned into a curve, the body shifted and bumped against the seat. Helen turned back quickly.
    All along the first five miles of the canyon, Chris had kept slowing down as if he meant to stop. Then his teeth had set on edge and he’d picked up speed again as he saw that the spot was unsuitable. Now he had turned onto the old Topanga Road.
    Helen looked at the dashboard clock. It was twenty minutes after twelve. She drew in a long breath and let it seep out between her lips as she stared at the road ahead, glancing at the occasional houses they passed. Once they had discussed the possibility of buying a house in this area. She’d never want to live here now.
    Finally they stopped and the rasping click of the hand brake made her twitch. Chris pushed in the light knob and darkness blotted away everything around them. He sat motionless for a moment, his eyes staring ahead. Then, with a brusque motion, he pulled up the door handle and slid out of the car.
    “Could I have the flashlight, please?” he asked.
    Reaching forward, Helen pushed in the button on the glove compartment door. After a few seconds of fumbling, she found the flashlight and held it out. Chris took it from her and pushed forward the seat back on his side. It fell on the steering wheel and they both gasped as the horn sounded once