Part 12 (2/2)
The man in the Rob Zombie T-s.h.i.+rt was standing on the steps. This time, Robert was close enough to see his eyes-they were black and dead set on him. He froze, looked around for witnesses, but students ebbed and flowed around him without seeming to notice anything amiss.
The man took his hand from his pocket. He held a small, gleaming object, and he slowly raised it until it was above his head. He was still. His beard streamed in the wind. The blade was motionless.
Robert froze. He'd seen this man somewhere else, he knew it, not just here at the school, but somewhere else. He c.o.c.ked his head like a curious mutt, watching the blade glide across the air like something wet. For a moment, he imagined the man was in his dreams, and he supposed he might have been, but that wasn't where he remembered the face, the beard, the stillness br.i.m.m.i.n.g with violence and l.u.s.t. No, he'd seen this man somewhere else, sometime else, he just couldn't place it.
Robert glanced around, hoping to find someone else watching the man, too. To his left, a group of kids sat around a stone table beside the campus bookstore. In the courtyard behind the English Department students milled about. n.o.body seemed to notice the knife-wielding b.u.m on the steps. He turned back.
The man was gone.
Robert whirled, searching the campus again and again, but he had either missed the escape or the man had disappeared.
In his office, he called campus security and reported it, but the guard hadn't heard anything. The conversation left him feeling dazed. His mother's condition had caused hallucinations, but her tumor had been in the brain. His was everywhere but. Still, could his sickness leave him with similar symptoms?
Minutes later, someone knocked on his door. ”Mister Lieber?”
”Come in.”
A thin man in a suit entered, extended his hand. ”We've met, but a long time ago. I work with Veronica. Worked, actually.”
”George? How you been?”
George, his smile as thin as he was, said, ”Not so hot.”
”Sorry to hear it.” You'd think differently if I told you how I was.
George sat down, ran a hand over his tie. His hands were womanly, the fingernails ornate. ”This is about your wife and my daughter, Mister Lieber.”
Robert s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably. ”How's that? I mean, how is it about both of them?”
”My daughter hasn't been able to . . . adjust to college life. She's coming home.”
Robert nodded, waiting.
”Anyway, I'd like her to continue school here. Can you ensure she'll be able to take on a full load even though the semester's underway?”
”Sure, but you're getting the inside scoop when you don't need it. Enrolling late is no problem when the semester's young.”
”What I'm saying is this,” said George, hunched over his knees. ”My daughter's gotten into some trouble. When she begins here, I'd like you to keep an eye on her.”
”Oh,” said Robert. ”Sure.”
George fell back into the chair. ”Now, about Veronica. There's a problem.”
”There're so many.”
”Do you know where she is?”
”I haven't seen her in two weeks. But you knew that.”
George nodded. ”I've had to call the police. She disappeared yesterday with a large sum of money.”
Robert closed his eyes tiredly. ”Of course she did,” he said, rubbing his forehead.
”What do you mean?”
”Money. It's her issue.”
”May I ask why you parted?”
”Let's just say her fidelity in all things.”
George paused. ”Last week I loaned her money. Your home was up for foreclosure.”
”What a bombsh.e.l.l.”
”She'll be arrested when they find her, Mister Lieber. I'm sorry.” George McDylan rose. ”I'm really sorry.”
”Me too, George,” Robert said, looking up. ”Me too.”
Chapter Sixteen: The Weirdest Feeling.
1.
Mary and Grady packed. They took periodic breaks to bat around plans for the baby, for school, for themselves, as if these things were separate issues. Grady could not contain her ebullience over leaving a state that was, in her mind, just one big small town. Mary tried to keep up for a while, then gave up and just listened.
Initially, Freddie had borne up poorly under the news. Once Grady had given the phone to Mary, her mother had called her a naive b.i.t.c.h and hung up, but she'd phoned back minutes later, in tears, hyperventilating and ashamed, and she'd asked Mary to please, please come home. Mary told her she'd think it over, then had called back around midnight. This time she spoke to both parents, told them she'd return on one condition-Grady was coming with her. To Mary's surprise they readily agreed.
”This is going to be fun, Mary.”
”Yeah?” She was folding s.h.i.+rts, laying them neatly in the suitcase.
”It's gonna be great.”
She tried to smile, but failed. Pack your bags, girls. We're going on a guilt trip.
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