four times before placing them on the shelf. Can’t be too careful.”
“Ever forget to check one?”
“Oh, heavens no,” Strauss replied. “At least, I don’t think so.” He took a moment, staring absentmindedly into the distance, as if trying to remember something.
Mrs. Huddleston helped him stack the books. After doing so, she turned to leave, then she remembered. “Herr Strauss?”
“Yes, Frau Huddleston?”
“That young woman—Shelby.”
“Eh?” he replied.
“She went into reading room three,” reminded the woman. “I was just curious if she enjoyed her experience.”
It took a few more moments for the man to remember. “Oh, my!” he exclaimed. “I forgot.” He dropped the remaining books on the counter and scurried down the hallway. “My mind tends to forget things,” he mumbled.
“How long has she been in there?” Mrs. Huddleston asked, rushing after him.
Strauss looked at his watch. “Eleven minutes. Much too long for a new patron,” he said glumly.
“I’m sure she’s quite alright,” said Mrs. Huddleston, following Strauss to the door.
A light tap.
A jiggle of the door handle.
He cracked the door, saying, “Frau McClain, your time is up . . .”
He looked inside.
The scene was horrific.
Shelby McClain had been ripped apart. Appendages were flung haphazardly around the room. Blood soiled the recliner. It was smeared on the walls, and pooled on the floor. Hardly anything was left of the poor woman.
Mrs. Huddleston peered past Strauss, and gasped.
Her screams filled the store.
Strauss took a step in, leaned down, and picked up the tattered book Shelby had been reading.
“Jurassic Park?” he asked, flipping through the pages.
“I do not remember checking it,” he added, still flipping.
“I like the classics, you know,” he muttered.
“I only buy the modern stories for my patrons. I must have forgotten this one,” said Herr Günter von Strauss, muttering like a confused old man, scratching his head.
“I must have forgotten.”
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