“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
DUNCAN 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 her 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.”