"Me? Lunch with Dr. Masterson? Where did you hear that? I've never had lunch with Masterson. I never have lunch with anyone."
And in that awful instant Lisl knew that Ev was telling the truth. Rafe had lied to her.
"Oh, God, no!" she moaned.
Why? Why would Rafe lie about Ev? Why had he been so intent on turning her against him? She fought an urge to explain to Ev about Rafe, to make him see that it wasn't her fault, that Rafe had made her do it. But he hadn't made her do anything. He'd lied to her, but that was beside the point. Even if his stories about Ev had been true, that didn't justify spiking Ev's orange juice. There was no justification for that. What was she going to say? The Devil made me do it? There was no one and nothing to hide behind.
She looked at Ev now and saw the profound hurt in his face. She'd have much preferred anger. Hatred, maniacal rage—she could deal with having angered someone. But not hurt. She felt like crawling away on her belly.
"Lord, what's wrong with me?" he said.
"But don't you see, Ev?" she said, desperately searching for a bright side to this. "You can't blame yourself for falling off the wagon. If you'd been left alone, if I hadn't planted that bomb in your refrigerator, if you'd been allowed a free choice, you wouldn't have started drinking again. Don't blame yourself. It's my fault, not yours."
"I almost wish it were my fault," Ev said in a worn, desolate tone.
"No. Don't say that."
He struggled to his feet and she rose with him. He began wandering around her in a jagged circle.
"It's true. I don't have many friends, Lisl. In fact, I don't have any. I was never good at making them when I was sober. That was one of the reasons I drank. But I thought we were friends, Lisl. Well, not really friends, but colleagues at least. I thought you had some respect for me, some consideration. I never dreamed you'd do something like this to me."
"Neither did I, Ev. Neither did I."
"What did I ever do to you to make you hate me so?"
"Oh, Ev, I don't hate you!"
"Lord, how stupid I was!" he said. His voice was rising. "What an idiot! I trusted you! I… liked you. What a fool! What a goddamned fool!"
"No, Ev! I'm the fool. And I am your friend. I'll help you get things right again."
"And what about my work? What about my paper for Palo Alto?"
"What about it?"
"It's gone. Wiped out! Even my backup files. Wiped out! That was no accident! If you had access to my refrigerator, you also had access to my codes. Lisl, how could you? You could have brushed me aside if you wanted to get to the top. You didn't have to crush me like some sort of insect!" He stopped moving and put a hand to his face. A muffled sob escaped. "How could I have been so wrong about you?"
Lisl stood straight, silent, stunned. Ev's paper—gone? Who could have—?
And then she knew. Rafe. He'd spotted Ev's access codes next to the terminal in his apartment. Rafe must have wiped them out. But what could he be thinking? What could be his purpose? Could he believe by any stretch of the imagination that he was helping her?
"Ev, I didn't touch your files."
But Ev wasn't listening. He was wandering away from her, stumbling across the brown grass toward the highway. His words were garbled by the roar of the traffic, but snatches drifted back to her.
"… thought I had it all under control… wrong… fool… actually thought I had something… had nothing… thought I
could rely on Lisl at least… didn't have to squash me… what's the use… can't take it anymore… can't start all over again…"
"Ev! Come back!"
At first she thought he was just trying to get away from her, and she couldn't say she blamed him. Even Lisl didn't feel like getting into a car with herself. He looked as if he was going to get on the shoulder and start thumbing for a ride.
But Ev didn't stop at the shoulder. He kept on walking straight out, into the right lane.
Oh, no! Oh, my God! What's he doing?
Lisl screamed his name, but if he heard her he didn't acknowledge it.
She began running after him. By sheer blind luck the right lane had been empty and he'd crossed it unscathed, but now he was stepping into the middle lane and there was a truck roaring through the half-light from the left. Lisl heard the horn, heard the agonized scream of the brakes blend with her own as the eighteen-wheel juggernaut bore down on Ev's frail figure. Lisl saw him turn toward the hurtling mass of chromed steel. And in the last instant before it thundered into him, he turned his face toward her. For a heartbeat his tortured, miserable eyes locked on hers, and then amid a spray of crimson he dissolved into the front grille of the truck.
Lisl could only stand on the shoulder and scream until her voice gave out and the emergency squad came and someone led her away.
Manhattan
Mr. Veilleur was up at first light, clanking around the kitchen. Bill hadn't realized how hungry he was until the odors began seeping through the apartment. Eggs over easy, bacon, rye toast, and the best coffee in recent memory. All served by Mr. Veilleur himself.
Veilleur didn't eat with them. Instead, he put together a breakfast tray and accompanied the nurse into his wife's bedroom. Bill waited impatiently for his return, looking at his watch, thinking about Lisl, wondering if she'd found Everett Sanders, and what she'd told the poor guy. Bill knew she was probably counting on him for help, but this was more important.
When Veilleur returned to the kitchen half an hour later, Bill cornered him at the sink.
"This person who can tell us what's going on—when can we see her?"
Veilleur glanced at the clock on the wall.
"I can call her in a few minutes. I don't want to risk it while her husband is home."
"Why not?"
"Because," Veilleur said with a wink, "Mrs. Treece and I have been meeting in secret."
Bill wandered back to where Renny was watching Good Morning, America and wondered why he couldn't get a straight answer from anyone.
A few minutes later Mr. Veilleur stuck his head in the room.
TWENTY-NINE
"Mrs. Treece will be over in half an hour."
Bill asked if he could use the phone. Veilleur told him to go ahead. He was almost afraid to touch it, but he forced his hand to pick up the receiver and put it to his ear. When he heard a dial tone, he had a sudden urge to cry.
Maybe it's over—really, finally over.
He called North Carolina and got Lisl's number, then dialed her apartment. He let it ring a good while but there was no answer. If she wasn't home, it probably meant she'd found Sanders and had taken him back to his place. He tried information again for Everett Sanders's number but it was unlisted.
He hoped everything was going all right down there without him.
While waiting for Mrs. Treece to show up, he heard Mrs. Veilleur's accented voice shouting from the bedroom.
"Glen! Glen! Where's my breakfast? I smell breakfast cooking! Isn't anyone going to give me any? I'm hungry!"
Bill nodded and listened as Veilleur went in and patiently explained to his Magda that she'd just had breakfast and that lunch was still hours away.
"You're lying to me!" the woman said. "Nobody's fed me for weeks! I'm starving here!"
Suddenly Bill knew Mrs. Veilleur's problem, and the need for a full-time nurse: Alzheimer's disease. And abruptly Mr. Veilleur changed from a mystery man with a jealously guarded store of arcane knowledge to someone very human coping with a terrible burden.
But why had she called him Glen? The name on the mailbox downstairs had listed him as Gaston. He shrugged it off. Probably just a nickname.
The doorman called up shortly thereafter to announce that Mrs. Treece had arrived. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door and Veilleur opened it.