Part 11 (2/2)
”I think I spend my life sorting these things.” She reached up and slid a journal onto a shelf above her head.
”Helps to be tall, I guess.”
”Helps with some things.”
”I met Dr. Jeannotte's TA on Wednesday. She was reshelving, too.”
”Um-hum.” The young woman picked up another journal and examined its spine.
”I'm Dr. Brennan,” I offered.
She slipped the journal into a row at eye level.
”And you are . . . ?” I coaxed.
”Sandy O'Reilly,” she said without turning. I wondered if my height remark had offended her.
”Nice to meet you, Sandy. After I left on Wednesday I realized I'd never asked the other a.s.sistant her name.”
She shrugged. ”I'm sure Anna didn't care.”
The name hit me like a spitball. I couldn't be that lucky.
”Anna?” I asked. ”Anna Goyette?”
”Yeah.” Finally she turned to face me. ”Know her?”
”No, not really. A student by that name is related to an acquaintance of mine, and I wondered if it might be the same person. Is she here today?”
”No. I think she's sick. That's why I'm working. I'm not scheduled on Fridays, but Anna couldn't, so Dr. Jeannotte asked me to fill in today.”
”She's sick?”
”Yeah, I guess. Actually, I don't know. All I know is she's out again. It's O.K. I can use the money.”
”Again?”
”Well, yeah. She misses quite a bit. I usually fill in. The extra money's nice, but it isn't helping my thesis get written.” She gave a short laugh, but I could detect annoyance in her voice.
”Does Anna have health problems?”
Sandy tilted her head and looked at me. ”Why are you so interested in Anna?”
”I'm not really. I'm here to pick up some research that Dr. Jeannotte has for me. But I am a friend of Anna's aunt, and I know that her family is worried because they haven't seen her since yesterday morning.”
She shook her head and reached for another journal. ”They ought to worry about Anna. She is one weird cookie.”
”Weird?”
She shelved the journal then turned to face me. Her eyes rested on mine for a long time, a.s.sessing.
”You're a friend of the family?”
”Yes.” Sort of.
”You're not an investigator or reporter or something?”
”I'm an anthropologist.” True, though not fully accurate. But an image of Margaret Mead or Jane Goodall might be more rea.s.suring. ”I'm only asking because Anna's aunt called me this morning. Then when it developed that we were talking about the same person . . .”
Sandy crossed the office and checked the corridor, then leaned against the wall just inside the door. It was obvious that her height did not embarra.s.s her. She held her head high and moved with long, languid strides.
”I don't want to say anything that will cost Anna her job. Or me mine. Please don't tell anyone where this came from, particularly Dr. Jeannotte. She would not like me talking about one of her students.”
”You have my word.”
She took a deep breath. ”I think Anna's really messed up and needs help. And it's not just because I have to cover for her. Anna and I were friends, or at least we hung out a lot last year. Then she changed. Zoned out. I've been thinking of calling her mother for a while now. Someone should know.”
She swallowed and s.h.i.+fted weight.
”Anna spends half her time over at the counseling center because she's so unhappy. She goes missing for days on end, and when she is around she doesn't seem to have any life, just hangs here all the time. And she always looks edgy, like she's ready to jump off a bridge.”
She stopped, her eyes riveted on mine, deciding. Then, ”A friend told me Anna is involved in something.”
”Yes?”
”I have absolutely no idea if this is true, or if I should even say it. It's not my style to pa.s.s on gossip, but if Anna is in trouble, I'd never forgive myself for keeping quiet.”
I waited.
”And if it is true she could be at risk.”
”What is it you think Anna is involved in?”
”This sounds so bizarre.” She shook her head and the earrings tapped her jaw. ”I mean, you hear about these things, but it's never someone you know.”
She swallowed again and glanced over her shoulder out the door.
”My friend told me that Anna joined a cult. A group of Satan wors.h.i.+pers. I don't know if . . .”
On hearing the creak of floorboards, Sandy crossed to the far end of the office and picked up several journals. She was busy shelving when Daisy Jeannotte appeared in the doorway.
9.
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