by Sam Reaves
“We’ve spoken with her. She’s in Chicago, with a sister. She was quite upset by the killing and she went to stay with family.”
“I see.” So much for that mystery, Abby thought. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you have things well in hand.”
“We’re working overtime. This guy’s around somewhere. He’s living somewhere, he’s eating and sleeping, leaving traces. We’ll find him. I just can’t say when.”
“Thank you,” Abby said. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”
At the student union Abby headed for the faculty table with her yogurt and wrap. She hesitated for an instant when she saw Graham sitting there, but decided she was not going to let him dictate her movements. With him were Adam Linseth and Steven Stanley, along with the chemist she had met at the Stanleys’ party, his hair still in disarray. The chemist was saying, “Tammy wants a house. I got tenure and she’s tired of renting. We just haven’t found anything we really think is worth it. The best bargains seem to be on the east side of town, but that’s kind of shaky. We looked at one right across from the trailer park the other day. The house was decent, but who wants to live over there?”
“A buying opportunity,” said Graham. “Ripe for development.”
“Aha,” said Steven. “Is this some kind of Chinatown scenario? Is the steel plant planning to buy up all the land around there and send the property values through the roof, making you a wealthy man?”
Graham laughed. “Wrong side of town. And the only people the plant expansion is going to enrich are a couple of farmers. Actually, I advised the board against the expansion. I think there’s going to be a worldwide steel glut for a while, and they’ll regret this. But it looks like they’re not going to listen to me. As for the east side, you never know how things are going to go. Somebody decides to build a shopping center across the stream there, all of a sudden it really is a happening place, and if you have property there, you’re sitting pretty.”
“Is that a tip?” said the chemist.
“No. Just speculating. But trailer parks have a way of vanishing when something more lucrative gets approved.”
“Tough on the people that live there,” said Abby.
Graham shrugged. “They get bought out and relocate. People move all the time.”
“It could only improve the place, right?” said the chemist.
“I don’t know,” said Abby. “I actually know people who live there. They seem OK to me.”
There was an awkward silence. Looking sheepish, the chemist said, “Sorry, nothing against your friends. Just retailing stereotypes, I guess.”
Abby waved it off and the conversation moved on. Her mind wandered as she ate; she looked up and caught Graham watching her, a pensive look on his face. The party broke up as people wandered off to class or office hours. Graham lingered long enough to wind up alone with Abby. “You moved.”
“Moved?”
“I ran into Jerry Collins. He said you moved in with them.” Graham’s look was quizzical. “Because the police advised you to or something?”
“Ah. Yeah. Well, not exactly.” Abby frowned. “I had another sighting of the guy I saw at the scene of Lyman’s murder.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. I happened to be out late at night, just giving someone a ride, and I saw him.” She waved, vaguely. “Over on the east side of town.”
“Whoa, hang on. I thought they had arrested the guy.”
“Turns out it was the wrong guy. He had an alibi. They released him yesterday.”
“Jesus.” Graham looked genuinely shocked.
“And, well, somebody had been sneaking around my house at night. So it was decided I should take no chances and relocate, until the police find this guy. The detective I talk to tells me they’ve got an idea who it is. But they can’t find him.”
Graham just stared for a moment. “Oh, my God, Abby.”
“He said he’s probably got no reason to look for me. Just be careful and I should be OK. They’re working overtime and blah, blah, blah. We’ll see.”
Graham shook his head, slowly. After a moment’s hesitation he said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What’s your relationship with Lisa Beth?”
Abby gaped, closed her eyes, shook her head. “Excuse me? My relationship? She’s been a good friend to me. Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “Just curious. I couldn’t help but notice that you’re pretty tight, that’s all.”
“And that is your business why, exactly?”
Now his look was a little harder. He leaned closer, lowered his voice. “I’m just trying for some clarity. I thought for a moment the other night that there was some chemistry here, you and me. But it kind of comes and goes. And the last thing I want to do is step on somebody else’s toes, or get involved in some kind of rivalry. So I just thought I’d ask.”
Astonished, Abby just stared. “What on earth are you insinuating?”
Now he was giving her a cold, flat look. “Abby, you can’t possibly be unaware that Lisa Beth is gay. Or did the marriage fool you?”
When Abby found her voice she said, calmly, “If you’re trying to insinuate that she has designs on me, that I’m in danger of being seduced or something, you’re way off base. She has been a good friend to me, and nothing more.”
He nodded, looking very slightly abashed. “All right, I’m glad to hear it. I just wanted to make sure you were aware.” He sat back, hesitated, and said, “She’s kind of notorious, actually, for her little affairs. There was a secretary in the admissions office a couple of years ago. That ended badly, with tears at the president’s homecoming reception. And she was seen around town for a while, in some of the rougher bars, with some biker chick. It was a minor scandal. God knows what Jerry thinks of all this. They stay married. I just thought you should know. There’s been a little speculation already about you two.”
Abby sat oscillating between indignation and dismay. “Idle gossip,” she said finally, her voice as cold as she could make it. “I assure you. Thanks for the heads-up.”
He raised both hands, a gesture of concession. “I didn’t know if I should say anything. I just wanted to be clear.”
“Be clear. There’s nothing there. As for the chemistry between you and me, just to be clear, I’ve enjoyed your company and hope to continue to do so. But whatever happened last weekend had a lot to do with alcohol, and that’s not the right kind of chemistry. I’m not in the market for romance right now, I’m just not. I hope we can be good friends and colleagues, OK?”
He sat nodding slowly, a look of genuine regret stealing over his face. After a time he smiled, not the full wattage, and said, “Yeah, that’s clear. Thank you.”
Abby considered herself a mathematician first and foremost; the quest for an elegant solution was a passion, and teaching was just a way to support the habit. But her research required large tracts of time and a certain amount of mental tranquility, both of which had been lacking for weeks, and she had been shamefully neglecting her work. Late in the afternoon, caught up on her grading and prepared for the next day’s classes, Abby resolved to stay at her desk in Harrison Hall and devote a couple of hours to getting her research project back on track. She pulled her notes out of a drawer and set to.
The building emptied as she sat trying to find her way back into the work. She had previously realized that it would be enough to find a polynomial upper bound on the size of sum-free subsets. Would this follow from Bourgain-Katz-Tao? The last afternoon classes ended and students trooped by, making noise; Abby considered getting up to close her office door but they passed quickly and it was quiet again. Colleagues went ambling by, in conversation; Bill Olsen stuck his head in briefly and she assured him that her calculus class was back on track. A door slammed somewhere and it was quiet.
Absorbed at last, Abby became gradually aware of the dimming light. Outside, the sun was going down. The building had been quiet for some time. Footsteps
sounded, somewhere close at hand.
Abby looked up from her notes. She identified the slightly labored sound of feet on stairs, ascending. The noise stopped. A few seconds passed and then somebody began walking up the hall, slowly, the creaking of the floor progressing toward her open door.
Abby waited, frozen, telling herself there was no reason to be afraid of a person walking slowly up the hall in a deserted college building, a building locked to outsiders. She was safe here; the campus was a protected enclave.
The footsteps halted. She could hear a distant clock ticking. She drew breath to call out, to ask who was there, but a reluctance to give away her position stopped her.
And suddenly she realized there was no reason on earth to assume that she was any safer on campus than anywhere else; that was a delusion. She remembered a notice sent around to faculty a couple of weeks before, campus security chiding people for leaving the little-used basement door on the west side unlocked as a shortcut to and from the student union.
Abby sat listening to the pounding of her heart. Jump up and close the door, she thought. Slam it shut and lock it, while there is still time.
The footsteps began again, and now they were close. Abby leapt up, dashed around the end of her desk, and swung the door shut with a bang. She flicked the turn lock and leaned on the door, listening, hearing nothing. Slowly she backed away and stood by the desk, waiting.
I have just embarrassed myself, Abby thought. Some startled colleague is wondering what on earth is wrong with me.
The footsteps resumed. They drew up at her door and Abby held her breath for a long moment. A knock sounded on the door, three times. A man’s voice said, “Hello?”
“Who is it?”
“Security. Just checking. I saw your door open.”
Abby sagged against the desk, light-headed. “Sorry. Sorry, just a minute.” She recovered, stepped to the door, reached for the lock and stopped.
Anybody could say they were security, Abby thought. She drew breath and said, “I’m just working late. Everything’s fine. Thanks for checking.”
Seconds passed. Abby thought: What do I do if he won’t go away?
“All right then, just making sure everything’s OK.” The man sounded very slightly peeved.
“Fine, everything’s fine,” Abby said, eyes closed, forehead pressed to the door, listening as the footsteps went away down the hall. “Thank you.”
When Abby let herself into Lisa Beth’s house with the key she had been given, Lisa Beth’s voice came from the study. “Walk softly. Ace reporter at work.”
Abby stood in the doorway to the study. “Hi. Don’t let me interrupt.”
Lisa Beth shoved away from the desk. “Pour yourself a drink. How was your day?”
“Fine. A little nerve-racking. Actually, I think I’ll skip the drink.”
“Suit yourself.” Lisa Beth rose and went to the sideboard. “Young Mr. Gill coming on strong, is he?” Lisa Beth smiled over her shoulder at Abby’s startled look. “I have spies everywhere.” She reached for a bottle of vodka. “Jerry saw you with him in the student union. He said it looked like an earnest conversation.”
Abby thought carefully before she spoke. “Graham’s doing what guys do. It’s flattering.”
Lisa Beth turned away from the sideboard, drink in hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. The company you keep is none of my business.”
Abby shrugged. “We’re colleagues. That’s all. That’s all we’re going to be. I’ve made that clear to him.”
Lisa Beth sat at her desk and crossed her legs. She hoisted her drink and leveled a sharp look at Abby. “I have to say, I’m glad. I think he’s bad news.”
“How so?”
Lisa Beth drank and said, “He’s a cad and a bounder. He hits on students.”
Abby raised an eyebrow. “Oh, does he?”
“Two or three years ago it emerged he was bonking one of his advisees. Discreetly, but somehow it came out. There was a reprimand, I believe. She was a senior and no dewy-eyed innocent, probably, but it’s still frowned upon. And it should be.”
Abby nodded. “I see. I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“I commend your judgment. Sure you won’t have a drink?”
“No, thanks, really.” Abby hesitated. “He warned me about you, too.”
Lisa Beth stared at her over the rim of her glass. Abby was already regretting giving in to the impulse. Lisa Beth said, “Did he? I suppose he told you I have designs on you.”
“He said I should be aware of your history. I told him you had been a good friend to me and I was perfectly able to take care of myself.” Abby hesitated. “Just for the record and in case there is any doubt, I am completely tolerant but completely heterosexual.”
Lisa Beth took a sip of her drink with great deliberation and then sat looking into the glass. Her eyes rose to Abby’s. “That was what I assumed from the start, and if I have given you any reason to think that I will not respect your boundaries, I deserve to be tarred, feathered and run out of town on a rail.”
“None whatsoever.” Abby grimaced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Nonsense. It’s always good to clear the air.” They sat in silence for a moment, not looking at each other. Lisa Beth drank and said, “I’ve had a very interesting day. I spent a couple of hours in the basement of the courthouse, looking at records of land sales. You wouldn’t believe how much land changes hands in a year around here. Or the hands it goes to. All very interesting.”
“And this is in connection with . . . what?”
Lisa Beth rested her chin on her clasped hands, frowning at the computer screen. “Maybe with why Lyman and Frederick got killed. Just maybe.”
“Oh, my God.”
Lisa Beth relaxed, exhaling, closing her eyes. She swiveled on the chair and smiled at Abby. “But then maybe I’m just a fantasist.”
Abby stood at Lisa Beth’s front window, looking out at a peaceful, sunlit small-town street. She needed clean clothes and a couple of hours in her own space. It was broad daylight and her rational mind was in control. She called Ned on her cell phone. “I’ll be around,” he said. “Come on by.”
When Abby pulled into the driveway of 6 Hickory Lane, Ned was sitting on the steps, reading a magazine. He stood up as she approached. “All clear,” he said, smiling. “Patrols report no suspicious activity.”
“I know,” Abby said. “I’m paranoid.”
“Not at all.” He waved her into the house and closed the door behind them. “I don’t mean to make light of it. I talked with Mitch Ruffner again, and he said he doesn’t think it’s real likely that the guy’s looking for you, but it makes sense to be careful.”
Abby paused in the living room, wanting to linger. “I just wish I knew how long this was going to go on. I’m OK for now at Lisa Beth’s but it’s not a permanent solution.”
“I can’t tell you that.” Ned stood with hands on hips. “What I can tell you is, I spent a couple of hours walking the streambed yesterday.” He moved toward the window. “From the trailer park almost all the way to Shawnee Creek. The water’s low at this time of year and it’s easy to navigate. I got mud on my shoes and saw lots of trash and poison ivy, but I didn’t see any signs of homicidal maniacs.” He shot her a wry look over his shoulder. “For what that’s worth.”
Abby checked an impulse to go and join him at the window. “Have the police done that? Seems like that would be a good thing to do.”
“Mitch told me the state guys went a couple of hundred yards or so each way from the railroad viaduct. I don’t think they did much more than that. He said they got some footprints but weren’t sure they meant anything. There are plenty of prints here and there, but a lot of them are just made by kids, fooling around. I used to do it. And deer tracks, yeah. Lots of deer.”
He turned from the window. “There’s a narrow stretch along the bank where you can see the back of the house through the trees. It’s muddy, and it didn
’t look particularly trampled, the way it would if somebody had stood there watching. A few partial footprints, but then there are footprints all along. Probably associated with the beer cans you see everywhere. On the slope up to the yard here, there’s some broken brush and matted grass, like from somebody climbing. But then the Schwartzes’ grandkids were playing down there the other day. Bottom line, I don’t know that there’s any indication anybody’s been watching you, but I can’t rule it out.”
Abby nodded. “OK. I’ll take that into consideration.” She stared out into the woods, wishing somebody could tell her what she should do. “Thank you.”
Ned shrugged. “If you want to move back from Lisa Beth’s, I don’t think it would be wildly risky. You’ve got the key, and you can come and go through the house. You’re not visible on the porch from down there. I don’t know that it’s any more dangerous here than anywhere else. But if you want to talk to Mitch about it, if you feel better somewhere else, I understand.”
Abby took a deep breath. “That’s all fine in the daytime. Let me see how I feel tonight, OK?”
Heading back toward campus, Abby did a double take as she approached the Poza Rica: Natalia was coming out the open door, carrying a cardboard box. Abby braked and swerved into the lot. Natalia’s face brightened as she saw Abby get out of the car; she set the box on the floor of a van that stood with rear doors open and turned to greet her. They embraced and Natalia said, “The FBI let us back into the store, just to clean our stuff out. But it’s all over. My daddy has a hearing in Indianapolis tomorrow about his plea deal and he’ll find out how long he has to go to jail. My mama’s going back to Mexico next week.”
“Oh, Natalia, I’m so sorry.”
Natalia shrugged with an expression that told Abby this was a girl who had suddenly left girlhood behind; she looked ten years older. “It is what it is. I’ll be OK. I’m gonna live with Leticia and I’m looking for a job.”
“Don’t give up on going back to school.”
“I’m not. I want to keep doing math, OK? Can we keep on meeting?”
“Of course. I’m kind of unsettled right now. I’m not actually staying at my place. But I hope to be back there soon.”