Cherish Daney merged nervously into the slow lane, swerved a bit as she switched to the center. One hand to her ear; talking on a cell phone. She needed a half mile to build up to seventy-five miles per, maintained that speed on the route through North Hollywood, past Burbank and into Glendale, where she exited at Brand Boulevard.

Maybe this was nothing more than a shopping trip at the Galleria and I’d feel foolish.

No, the mall wasn’t open this early. The look I’d seen on her face said she wasn’t thinking about bargains.

I stayed two vehicles behind the Corolla on Brand and drove south.

Past the Galleria. One mile, two, two and a quarter.

Suddenly, without signaling, Cherish Daney yanked the Corolla’s wheel and bumped up into the parking lot of a gravel-roofed coffee shop called Patty’s Place. A banner on the window promised Breakfast Special: Best Huevos Rancheros in Town! Below that: Dip Into Our Never-Empty Coffeepot! Our Hotcakes Are Flappelicious!

Despite all that culinary temptation, Glendale appeared skeptical— only three other vehicles sat in the wide, sunny lot.

Two compacts. A black pickup.

Cherish pulled up alongside the truck. Before she got out, Barnett Malley was at her side. He had on the same outfit I’d seen at his cabin plus a wide-brimmed leather hat. Yellow gray hair streamed over his collar. His thumbs were hooked in his belt and his long legs bowed.

Cowboy Buckaroo.

Cherish Daney was all city girl: fitted yellow top, black pants, high-heeled black sandals. Her white blond hair, loose in the car, was now pinned in a chignon.

The two of them moved toward one another, seemed about to touch, stopped just short of contact. Without exchanging a word, they walked toward the restaurant, in perfect step. When Malley held the door open for Cherish, she glided past him without hesitation.

Used to it.

* * *

They stayed in there just short of an hour and when they left he held her elbow. My diagonal watch-spot afforded a clear view of Patty’s Place, but I was too far away to make out facial expressions.

Barnett Malley held Cherish’s car door open, waited until she got behind the wheel before entering the black pickup. She drove away, continued south on Brand, and he followed soon after. I was third in the convoy, hanging a block behind.

They drove to a Best Western near Chevy Chase Boulevard. Through the motel’s glass facade two levels of rooms were visible above a bright aqua pool.

Barnett Malley went in and Cherish Daney waited in her car. Seven minutes passed before she got out of the Corolla, glanced around, tamped her hair. The Seville was one of many cars in the motel lot and this time I was close enough to pick up nuance.