by Kate White
Be careful, she warned herself. You don’t really want to go here. Glenda knew all about it, of course. But very few others. Even Alec had been offered only cursory details in their four years together.
“Okay,” Duncan said. “That explains why you’re passionate about trying to root out the Sixes. So tell me about these bullies.”
She touched the tips of her fingers to her forehead and lightly brushed her hair away. God, she thought, why did I start this?
“There’s not all that much to tell. They sent mean notes, that sort of thing. Glenda was like a rock for me then, and I think that’s why our bond has been so strong all these years.”
Phoebe realized she’d been talking without drawing a breath. She breathed now, trying not to look as if she was gulping for air, and then took a long sip of wine.
“It’s hard to picture Phoebe Hall fleeing town just because of some mean notes.”
“Well, things got worse. They boxed me out of things I wanted to belong to. It was pointless to stay at the school if I couldn’t participate. And it’s no fun being shunned by other girls.”
“It must have been a very difficult time.”
“I don’t think anyone escapes adolescence scot-free. Look, let’s change the subject, okay? I hate dwelling on something from so long ago. It’s not worth the time.”
“Sure,” he said. “I remember promising a neck massage earlier, and now seems like the perfect time.”
“Yes, I’d like that,” Phoebe said, glad to be delivered from the topic. She stood up from the table and began to clear the salad plates.
Duncan rose too and followed her into the kitchen. As she was setting the dishes on the counter, he slipped behind her and placed his hands on her waist. It was the first time he’d touched her intimately since the kiss in his office, and desire spread through her like a brush fire. “Or we could just go to bed,” he said. “I can do some things there that are even better than a massage.”
“Option B,” she said, smiling.
They made love—first slowly and sensuously and then afterward in a fierce, raw way that almost shocked her. She felt herself letting go and briefly shucking off all the craziness happening around her.
In the morning Duncan was up ahead of her again. She could hear dishes clacking lightly together in the other room and classical music playing softly. When she padded into the great room, she found that he’d set out fruit and a basket of muffins.
“Okay, you didn’t bake those, did you?” she asked.
“Berta’s,” he said. “I made a guess you’re a blueberry girl.”
“You guessed right,” she said.
Their conversation over breakfast was easy and relaxed, no naked-light-of-day awkwardness. After breakfast they cleared the table together, their movements in sync, she noticed.
“This is the last weekend for good foliage,” Duncan said. “If you’re up for it, we could hang around here for a bit and then drive along some great back roads. Afterward we could eat lunch at an inn I know where they have really great mussels.”
So he was kidnapping her for the weekend.
“That sounds perfect,” Phoebe said.
The sky was crystal clear that morning, and as promised Duncan took them along charming backcountry roads, past farms with big silos and old red barns. They drove around for about two hours, stopping at several roadside antique stores just to poke around, and then finally reached the inn. It was a little shabby, but bustling with people. Phoebe made a stop in the ladies’ room first. When she caught up with Duncan again, she saw that he’d scored a table in the bar area next to a roaring fire. They both ordered mussels and shared a bottle of ice-cold pinot grigio. Duncan seemed less talkative during the meal than he had been in the car, but she figured he was simply chatted out for now. Just after they’d finished eating and ordered espressos, a young guy with a Lehigh University baseball cap strolled into the bar. Lehigh, she knew, was in Bethlehem.
“Tell me what you think of college men today,” she said, setting down her espresso cup. “Especially the ones at Lyle. I keep hearing that they’re not on par with the women.”
“I have a few amazing guys in my classes this term, but it’s true that many guys seem clueless these days. As a society, we’ve done a good job of empowering girls—deservedly so, of course—but some boys have gotten lost in the shuffle. The female students at Lyle often seem very frustrated with them.”
“That reminds me of something that I turned up about Lily, something I don’t want to lose sight of.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Right before she died, she had apparently started seeing someone new who wasn’t a student. It sounded as if she was frustrated by the guys here, too.”
“You’ve really been quite the sleuth,” Duncan said. “Who told you that?”
“Her roommate. And serial killer theory aside, it’s possible that this guy is tied to her death somehow. I wish I could find out who he is. As Hutch pointed out to me, women are vulnerable when they dump guys who don’t want to be dumped.”
Just then Phoebe’s cell phone rang. When she glanced down, she saw that Hutch was calling.
“Speak of the devil,” she told Duncan. “Excuse me for a sec.”
“Thanks for those notes you took,” Hutch announced after she’d said hello. “They turned out to be very insightful.”
“What do you mean?” Phoebe asked. She felt a prick of excitement. “Did you find something in them?”
“In a sense, yes. Mindy, that girl you talked to at campus security, was nice enough to make me a copy of some of my old notes that I didn’t keep here, and when I compared them to yours, a lightbulb went off. Can you drop by and see me again?”
Natch. It was just like Hutch to insist on a one-on-one.
“I’m in a restaurant right now, but why don’t I give you a call in a bit. I can arrange to meet you.” Even if she was going to spend the weekend with Duncan, she could still pick up her car and swing by Hutch’s at some point.
“He found something in the notes I took,” she explained to Duncan after she ended the call, “but he’ll only tell me in person.”
“I thought you were going to back off from this whole business.” Duncan looked displeased.
“I’m just going to follow up on this one matter. Sounds like it may be important.”
“Are you all set, then?” Duncan said. “We should probably hit the road.”
“Okay,” Phoebe said, surprised by his sudden urgency. She had imagined them lingering by the fire over another espresso.
Duncan swiveled his head, hunting the room with his eyes for the waitress. As soon as she brought the bill a moment later, he handed her his credit card without bothering to even check the math. Phoebe offered to contribute, but he shook his head.
“Did you leave anything at my house you need to go back for?” he asked.
“No—I don’t think so,” Phoebe said. What’s going on? she wondered.
“Then I’ll take you back to your place,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve got as much work as I do today.”
“Yes, tons,” she said, trying not to seem disconcerted.
“Do you feel safe enough with the new window locks?” he asked. “I hate the idea of you home and afraid.”
“I’ve got to face the music at some point,” she said. “There’s no point in prolonging it.”
That was the truth. But still she felt her stomach doing a weird flip about this turn of events. So much for being Duncan’s captive for the weekend.
19
D UNCAN WAS POLITE as they left the inn, helping her on with her jacket, opening the door for her. Maybe, Phoebe thought, I simply misinterpreted the hold-you-captive comment he made last night—he might have been playful and hadn’t intended the remark to be taken literally. And he had extended their original date by almost an entire day.
But during their drive back to Lyle, he seemed distracted, even slightly aloof, and her gut told h
er something was definitely up. She realized he might be annoyed that she’d promised to go see Hutch after assuring Duncan she’d cease playing private eye. And yet she remembered she’d actually noticed a slight change in him when she’d first returned from the ladies’ room. He’d seemed more pensive.
Perhaps what she’d witnessed had just been a gradual mood swing—intensified by the wine at lunch and spending hours in the company of the same person. She remembered how right from the start she had wondered if Duncan was prone to moodiness and retreating into himself.
As they drove, Phoebe watched the landscape roll by and commented from time to time on how lovely it was. Duncan acknowledged her comments pleasantly but added nothing more.
“Is everything okay?” Phoebe asked finally. Men hated that line, she knew, and it rarely produced an honest answer, but she felt she had to give it a shot. “You seem kind of quiet all of a sudden.”
“Oh, sorry,” he said. “I got a call when you were in the ladies’ room about a few things I need to take care of today. I apologize for seeming distracted.”
“Not a problem,” she said. “Just wondering.”
Once they reached the outskirts of Lyle, Duncan seemed to relax more into his seat, and she sensed his remoteness dissipating. As he pulled up to her house, he glanced over and smiled.
“This isn’t going to cause your neighbors’ tongues to start wagging, is it? It’s not quite the walk of shame at this hour, but if any of your neighbors have hawk eyes, they’ll realize you’re basically wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday.”
“Well, they didn’t notice anyone climbing in my window or hauling rats through the back door, so apparently their observation skills aren’t all that good,” Phoebe said.
He put the car in park. “Why don’t I come in for a minute and make sure everything’s okay.”
Part of her was tempted to say yes, but she shook her head instead. She didn’t want to prolong the awkward vibe that had taken hold since lunch.
“Thanks, but I should be fine now,” she said. “The locksmith declared the house tight as a drum.”
A large vehicle came rumbling down the street at that moment, and they both looked up in unison. It turned out to be from a Philadelphia television station, and it was obviously headed toward campus.
“I wonder if there’s some new development,” Duncan said, narrowing his eyes.
“Or they’ve just come back from a late lunch at Taco Bell,” Phoebe said. “Speaking of lunch, thanks for a lovely day.”
He reached his hand behind her neck, pulled her close, and kissed her on the mouth.
“I had a great time this weekend,” he said. “Call me if there’s any problem—no matter what time it is, all right? I’ll just be grading papers tonight,” he said. It was as if his detachment during the drive home had been a figment of her imagination.
As she unlocked the front door of the house, she could hear the motor of the car humming behind her, and she realized Duncan was waiting until she checked inside. She scanned the living room and then turned and waved out the doorway. Duncan waved back and drove off down the street.
Once inside, she went window by window, checking that the locks were all on. It was clear nothing had been tampered with. But as she walked through the kitchen to check the back door, the thought of the bloody pool at the bottom of the dishwasher made her gag. Craig had promised to talk to the police about the incident on Thursday night, and she thought someone from the precinct would have been in touch with her by now.
As soon as she finished her inspection, Phoebe called Hutch. She wanted to arrange to stop by his cabin and find out what lightbulb had gone off for him. But he didn’t pick up.
“Hey, Hutch, it’s Phoebe,” she said to his answering machine. “I’m home now and I can stop by any time.” She imagined him out in the truck with his dogs, maybe picking up firewood or some grub for dinner tonight, probably listening to someone like Patsy Cline.
Next she phoned Glenda. She’d been surprised not to hear from her either. Just when she thought the call would go to voice mail, Glenda picked up.
“Sorry to be out of touch,” Glenda said. “I barely had time to shower today with everything that’s going on.”
“What’s the latest?”
“The campus is like a zoo. The kids are freaked, and so are their parents and the board of trustees. And we’re not just a regional story anymore—apparently a crew from Dateline is barreling in our direction as we speak. The fact that Halloween’s on Sunday isn’t helping. There’s a rumor running rampant that the next victim will be found this weekend.”
“Do you think Tom is fueling any of this?”
“To some degree, yes. I keep reiterating to him how crucial it is not to fan the flames, and he gives me that haughty look as if he’s shocked I’d suggest he would. But more than once I’ve spotted him huddled with someone on campus, and I don’t like it. Plus, he sent an e-mail update to parents that he didn’t clear with me first, and I thought the tone was all wrong. Yes, you’ve got to shoot straight, but you shouldn’t create mass hysteria.”
“How about you? How are you coping?”
“I’ve never felt so agitated in my career. I don’t think I’m giving that away in public, but inside I’m like that expression the kids here use—‘a hot mess.’ And poor Brandon. I haven’t been able to give him an ounce of time lately.”
“What about Mark? How is this affecting things?”
“I once thought I had a good marriage, but instead of having my back, Mark seems even more distant these days. I’ve asked him to help with Brandon, to spend more time with him, and all he says is that he’s too busy with work. But enough about me. How are you?”
From the casual tone of the question, Phoebe realized that her friend wasn’t in the loop about the latest incident.
“Well, there’s been a little development on my end, which Ball was supposed to tell you about.” She relayed the dishwasher story to Glenda.
“Oh, my God,” Glenda said. “Why the hell didn’t he inform me? And you had to stay there alone last night?”
“It’s not a problem,” Phoebe answered vaguely. “I’ve beefed up my locks.” As she spoke, she felt the guilt surge back. She still hadn’t told Glenda about Duncan, and the longer she waited, the more awkward it would be. She started to say something, but Glenda cut in.
“Fee, look, I appreciate all you’ve done,” Glenda said. “But this is now totally out of hand. I want you to stop your investigation. I can’t put you in danger.”
“Oh, come on,” Phoebe said. “They’ve played a few dreadful pranks, but there’s no sign I’m in any real danger.”
“But you said yourself that we don’t really know what these girls might be capable of.”
“Are you thinking that as part of the fifth or sixth circle of membership, the Sixes will now demand the head of a tarnished celebrity biographer?” Phoebe tried to joke.
“I’m not kidding. I want you to stop. Why don’t you stay here tonight, and we’ll talk about it.”
“I’ll be okay, really.”
“At least come over for lunch tomorrow. I need to discuss this with you in person.”
Though Phoebe had no intention of letting Glenda force her off the hunt, she knew it would be good to hash out everything that had transpired in person. And she could finally tell her about Duncan. She agreed to stop by just after noon.
As the day quickly turned to twilight, she could feel dread begin to nudge her again. All of the ease and contentment she’d felt at Duncan’s last night was gone. Her perturbed mood, she realized, stemmed not only from having to face a night alone in her house, but also from the abrupt end to her afternoon with Duncan. Now that she had a few hours’ distance on the experience, she was sure that the shape-shifting his mood had undergone was due to something other than a phone call about work.
Keeping her gaze off the dishwasher, Phoebe made a cup of tea. She’d just sat down when her cell p
hone rang. Hutch, she thought. But she didn’t recognize the number on the screen.
“Professor Hall?” the voice asked. It sounded like a student. Don’t tell me someone’s pleading for a grade change during the weekend, she thought.
“Yes?”
“It’s Wesley Hines. You gave me your number, and said I could call you.”
“Oh, of course,” she said. Something was up. “How can I help?”
Wesley blew a gust of breath loudly into the receiver. “Wow, it’s been a weird two days since I saw you last,” he confessed.
“How so?” she asked. He’d been to the police, she suspected.
“Well, I did what you told me to do. I went to see the cops and told them my story.”
“That’s good. How did they react when you told them?”
“They took it seriously, real seriously. Let me tell you, it’s been a relief to have people finally pay attention—and you were the first one, so I appreciate that.”
“I’m sure it was frustrating when you talked to the campus cops last year, but I hope you can see it from their perspective. They had no reason to suspect it was anything more than an accident.”
“Yeah, well, I take it you heard about the drowned guy they found?”
“Yes, Trevor Harris. Did you know him?”
“Nope—though I knew the name. I guess Lily Mack must have mentioned him at some point, and then people were buzzing about him last spring, when they thought he just took off.”
“Are you thinking that the same thing happened to him that happened to you—but he didn’t make it out alive?”
“I’m no expert, but hey, I’ve watched enough crime shows to know that you’re supposed to put two and two together, and this sure looks like two and two together. It gives me the creeps when I think how close I came to dying myself.”
“Well, I’m just so happy you’re okay. And I appreciate your calling me to let me know you saw the cops.”
“Actually, that’s not the only reason I’m calling. You told me to get in touch if I thought of anything else—and I did. It may not mean much, but I don’t know, I guess I thought I should share it.”