by H. Duke
But that wasn’t a sure thing, was it? He could also be miles away. Their best bet was to meet them at a future page with a plan.
“You’re right,” she said. She glanced down at the timepiece. “It’s already two. We should get started. We have a long night ahead of us.”
When they made it back into the library, Barty and Braddy were missing. They soon returned, though, Braddy carrying a small pot of tea and Barty a package of cookies from the staff cupboard.
“The biscuits aren’t fresh,” the groundling said with a sniff, “But these are desperate times.”
Randall collected all the copies of The First Adventure of Braddy Evers from the second and first floors. With all the editions that had been published over the years, there were enough for each of them to have their own copy three times over. They retired to the sitting area. Dorian went back into his world and returned with blankets, and they wrapped themselves in them, hoping to regain the feeling in their cold-numbed limbs.
“Wait,” she said as he handed her a quilt. “You didn’t bring anything over there. How can these be here?”
“As long as the gate is active it’s fine,” he said. “It’s when the gate closes for the day that the trouble starts.”
He looked away, and she remembered the fight they’d had the previous night.
“Oh,” she said.
For the next hour, the only sounds in the Werner Room were the flipping of pages, the slurp of tea, or the occasional clearing of a throat.
Every so often Braddy would mutter, “Utterly preposterous.” The groundling clutched his blanket at his neck as though he were reading a horror story rather than a children’s book.
Soon April’s head began to throb. She took a break to check her watch. It was nearing three in the morning. She’d read faster than she’d ever read anything in her life, and she’d only managed to get halfway through the book. She set it aside and massaged her temples with the tips of her fingers, trying to ease the pounding.
She flipped back to the beginning of her book. “What happens if you open a Werner book to an author’s note?”
Dorian grimaced. “It’s very… abstract. Difficult to describe. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”
Randall closed his own book with a sigh. Out of all of them, he’d read the furthest. “Why don’t we get some rest?” he said. “We can finish during the day tomorrow. Anyway, we won’t remember what we read if we don’t sleep.”
“You don’t have to twist my arm,” she said. She blinked. Her eyelids felt dry and sticky, and she had to fight to pry them open again. “Do you need a ride?”
Randall shook his head. “No. I’ll walk to the shelter. It’s only a few blocks away.”
April gazed levelly at him. She knew that St. Mary’s locked its doors by ten p.m. and didn’t open again until nine the next morning. Where was he going to spend the night? For that matter, where had he been sleeping the past few weeks? It wasn’t as cold out as it had been—thank goodness—but it was still Minnesota in November.
As though reading her thoughts, Randall said, “I’ll be fine. I know some spots.”
She nodded. “If you ever need a place, you know where I live, okay?”
He nodded, though she knew he wouldn’t take her up on it. Then he leaned down and ruffled the fur around Rex’s neck. “What do you say, boy? Are you ready to go?”
The dog yawned and let his head fall back onto the floor with a sigh. Everyone laughed, but only a little. April could tell that the next night’s activities were looming in their minds as much as they were in hers.
“What about me?” Braddy asked. “Don’t I deserve a warm bed?”
Dorian sighed. “You’ll stay with me until the morning, then Raoul will come back and watch you for the rest of the day.”
The groundling’s look of distaste showed that he didn’t much like the idea of spending the day with Raoul. Barty added, “If you want, I could knock you out again.” This was said as a genuine offer, not a threat.
The groundling looked at him as though he were insane. “No, thank you. I’ll sleep here.” He patted the couch he was sitting on.
Barty and Randall left, leaving April, Dorian, and Braddy. Braddy was already spread out on the couch, his blanket pulled up over his head.
“There’s still time,” Dorian said absently.
“Time for what?”
“To go visit him. There’s an hour left before the portal closes. That’s at least a couple hours there.”
“Where? And who do you mean by him?” she asked, then realization crept over her, and heat flooded her cheeks. “You mean the genie? Why would I go there now?”
“I thought it might be… I don’t know, stress release.”
“Rico is trapped in a book, and we’re unable to get to him,” April said shortly. “The last thing on my mind is a…” she looked for the right word and got a flash of the conversation she’d had with the genie the first time she’d seen him. “The last thing on my mind is a booty call.”
Dorian’s face was even more florid than hers felt. “Oh.”
“Why do you care, anyway?”
He looked into the gate. “I just wanted you to know I support your decisions. Whatever you need.” He didn’t look at her again.
She tried to think of something else to say about that conversation, but couldn’t, so she just continued to look at the gate with him. “You’ll leave it open as long as possible?” She asked finally. “Just in case?”
He nodded. “Yes.” He didn’t look at her again.
Chapter Nine
“You’re awfully tired this morning. Did you have a good time last night?” Gram asked with a suggestive smile.
April tried not to wince at the comment coming from her grandmother. She simply agreed with Gram’s statement, though it was the furthest thing from the truth, and returned to The First Adventure of Braddy Evers, which lay open on the kitchen table in front of her.
“I haven’t seen you read since high school,” Gram commented. “In fact, I don’t recall you reading in high school. This library thing must be growing on you, huh?”
“Yes, Gram,” April said. “Braddy Evers Day is coming up and I thought I should read it before then.”
“Well, good.” Gram said with a smile. “I’m glad to see you developing more interests and hobbies lately.” She returned to her newspaper. “Did you hear about this kid who went missing near the library?”
April dropped the book so fast that she lost her page. “What?”
“His name is Rico,” Gram kept reading, then she looked up at April and started to read out loud. “‘His father, a security guard at the local library, went missing last week. Authorities suspect that the boy may be in his father’s custody.’”
“Man,” April said, her mouth dry. “His mom came in yesterday looking for him. We all thought he ran away, that he’d be back before it got dark out. I can’t believe he’s still missing.”
Gram shook her head. “First that man walks out on his job, then kidnaps his son right out from under his mother’s nose? Some people.”
April winced. Now that this article had been published, everyone would be saying these things about Andre. Soon everyone would forget how kind and hardworking he was. He’d just be remembered as that guy who skipped town and kidnapped his kid.
April chose her words carefully. “He didn’t seem like the type,” she said. “he was a nice guy. Always wanted to make sure I got to my car safely when I left each night.”
Gram shook her head. “It’s the seemingly nice ones who are the worst,” she said, “Because you let your guard down around them. Think of all the serial killers whose neighbors say, ‘he seemed like such a nice guy.’ You think if they didn’t seem so nice they’d cause as much destruction as they do? No, because people would be wary of them. Yep, it’s always the nice ones who hurt the most people.”
April tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t give away her investm
ent in the topic but came up with nothing.
“Are you okay, hon?”
Gram’s words drew April out of her stupor. “Huh?”
“You’re just staring off into space. Your cereal’s getting soggy.”
“I’m fine,” April said. “Just tired, I guess.” She rubbed her eyes. They burned from lack of sleep.
“I know I said I’m happy you found someone, dear,” Gram said. “But you really should get more rest. You’re getting bags under your eyes. You’re too young for that.”
April nodded. “You’re right, Gram. In fact, I think I’m going to go take a nap before I get ready for work.” As good as a nap sounded, she was actually going to go and try to finish The Last Adventure of Braddy Evers.
Gram smiled, totally oblivious. “That’s a great idea, dear.”
~~~
April drove past Andre’s apartment again on her way to work. She thought there might be a cop car in the parking lot, some evidence that the police were looking for Rico, but there was nothing, no sign that anything out of the ordinary was going on in the upstairs corner apartment. April sighed and drove to the library.
As she entered the Werner Room, she noticed that Randall and Rex were not sitting alone. Braddy sat on the chair next to him. He was reading a book (not The First Adventure of Braddy Evers, though his copy rested on the table next to him). With his head bent downward, he looked like a child.
April met Randall’s eye, and he gave her a look that said he’d explain later. She nodded to him and walked into her office.
She’d been there for no more than ten minutes—time she spent poring over her copy of The First Adventure of Braddy Evers, the spine of which was quickly losing its shape—when her office door flew open.
April’s heart pounded. She may have expected Thaddeus, or the cops demanding to know Rico’s whereabouts. Instead, it was Rico’s mom.
Her appearance had deteriorated since the previous morning. Her hair was matted, the part uneven so that a long tangle fell unattractively over her eyes. Her forehead and cheeks were shiny with sebum. She wore the same clothes she’d had on the previous day.
“Ms. Beauchamp,” April said. “Can I help you with something?” It was all that she could think to say. Behind her, April could see Becky jogging up the stairs, a worried look on her face. Randall and Rex were coming towards her, too, obviously drawn by the commotion.
She lifted a single shaking finger and pointed it at April. “What are you playing at?” she said.
April’s heart began to beat. Was it possible that she knew about Rico? about Andre? About everything? “W-what do you mean?”
Becky appeared in the doorway behind her. She seemed reticent to get any closer to Mrs. Beauchamp. Janet walked up and stood next to her, a concerned look on her face. Becky spoke to Janet. “She came in, yelling, asking where April was. I tried to calm her down, but she pushed past me and…” her voice grew quiet, as though she didn’t want anyone to hear what she was going to say next, “she said she’d kick my ass if I tried to stop her.”
“What do we do?” Janet said, her voice cracking, higher than usual. “Without a guard…”
Mrs. Beauchamp began speaking, drowning out their words. “You think I didn’t see you?” she said. “I spent all day and night by that window, waiting for him to come walking up the street…” she sounded unhinged. Her words made sense, but only barely.
“See me?” April said. “Mrs. Beauchamp, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She looked helplessly at Janet and Becky over the mad woman’s shoulder. They stared back at her just as helplessly.
Mrs. Beauchamp laughed. It was the unrestrained guffaw of a drunkard, but she didn’t smell like liquor, only body odor and cigarette smoke. “You drove past the apartment. Twice. I only noticed yesterday because you slowed down, then I saw the same car here in the parking lot. I told myself that you must have to drive past on the way to work. But then when you drove past again today, I decided to look up your address.” She looked triumphant. “It’s an extra fifteen-minute drive for you to go that way.”
As she spoke, she slowly approached April. Getting closer, walking around the desk until April was pressed against one of the bookshelves on the back wall of the office.
“I-I…” she stuttered, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse for driving past Andre’s apartment. It was hardly damning evidence, but as the woman drew closer, it felt like undeniable proof of her guilt.
“Where is my son!” the woman yelled, her face now less than a foot from April’s. April jumped at the sudden sharpness of the words.
April was about to tell her everything, about Andre’s death and how they’d covered it up, about leading Rico into the storybook world, about losing him. She’d tell her and then beg for forgiveness.
The words formed on her lips, but a dark hand appeared on Mrs. Beauchamp’s shoulder. The touch seemed to shake her anger. She turned around to find Randall.
“Ma’am,” Randall said. “I know you’re scared and hurting, but this won’t help find your son. Is this really what you want to be doing?”
She gazed into his eyes, and after a few tense seconds her face crumpled. “No.” Her voice sounded like a child’s.
“I know,” Randall said, his deep baritone voice low and soothing. “Why don’t you come out here and tell me everything, and we’ll see if we can’t do something about all this.”
Mrs. Beauchamp deflated like a blow-up pool toy that’s had the air let out of it. She looked less angry and more stunned. She allowed him to lead her out to one of the chairs in the sitting area. He asked the gawking library patrons to leave the room, and they did.
No sooner had Randall cleared her office than Janet swooped down on her.
“Are you okay? I though she was going to strangle you. We should have done something. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” April said.
“Damn it,” Janet said. “We need a night guard. I don’t get paid enough for this. What if she had a knife or a gun?”
Becky seemed less concerned with April’s safety. She looked at April strangely. “Is it true? Did you really drive past Andre’s place?”
April thought for a moment. What if Rico’s mom brought this up to the police, and they started looking into her? Into the library? More than that, though, she was tired of lying. She decided to stick to the truth as closely as possible.
“I haven’t been handling Andre’s disappearance well,” She admitted. “I mean, I was one of the last people to see him, and now he’s gone. I don’t know why I drove by. I thought maybe I’d see something that no one else did, and then I would be able to stop worrying about him. It was stupid. I barely knew Andre. It shouldn’t affect me this much.”
“Oh,” Becky said, her eyes tearing up. “And all this time I thought you didn’t care! I’m so sorry that I haven’t been talking to you…” she threw her arms around April’s shoulders. April returned the embrace awkwardly. “We’ll do whatever we can to help her find Rico, and to help find Andre. I’ll talk to her.”
Before April could say anything else, Becky had left the room and went to go sit next to Randall and Mrs. Beauchamp. The woman was crying. Becky put her arm around her.
Janet looked down at April as though she was insane. “You should call the cops. She was about to attack you.”
April shook her head. The last thing she needed was the police breathing down her neck. “She’s worried about her kid, Janet. You’d do the same thing.”
Janet stared out at Randall and Becky. Becky was leading Mrs. Beauchamp towards the stairs. “We were really lucky that he was here. Who would have thought crazy Randall would be able to talk someone down like that?”
April nodded. She’d forgotten that Randall was supposed to be crazy. It was hard to believe he was the same person that Becky, Janet, and Andre told her stories about when she first started.
“I think he knows what it’s like to be in a bad place
,” April said.
Randall, seeing her watching him, waved. He seemed to be assessing her, to see if she was okay. She shrugged, hoping he would see that she was fine. Or at least as fine as it was possible to be. She must have been convincing, because he and Rex walked back down to the second floor.
Janet sighed. “I’d better get back to the desk.”
Towards close, Braddy, who had been reading in a secluded corner of the Werner Room, came up and spoke to April. He was less snarky than usual, more pensive.
“So you didn’t spend the day with Raoul,” April asked, numbly.
Braddy shook his head. “He doesn’t talk much. I’d rather be here with you all. At least there’s something to read. All of his books were in a language I didn’t recognize.” He paused. “That was the boy’s mother?”
April nodded, looking up from her copy of The First Adventure of Braddy Evers. She’d finished it an hour or so after going out onto the reference desk and was now rereading parts that she’d marked with sticky notes.
“She seems really upset,” Braddy said.
“Yeah,” April said. She waited for him to say something else, but he just returned to his chair and began reading again.
She picked up her copy of The First Adventure of Braddy Evers and swore under her breath as a thin section of pages fell out of the binding. She stared down at the tattered book. She got an idea.
She moved into her office and pulled out the Werner copy of The First Adventures of Braddy Evers, a box of binder clips, and a pair of scissors. She had work to do before nine.
~~~
They gathered around one of the study tables. April held up a handful of book pages, each section held together with a binder clip and labeled with a sticky note that noted what happened in each chapter.
“What’re those?” Randall asked.
“My copy of Braddy Evers,” she said. “I’ve cut it up into sections based on scenes. We can carry them through the veil and use them as references.”
“You destroyed it,” Randall said, wrinkling his nose in disapproval.