“What is it, Wesley?” Phoebe said. Christ, just spit it out, she wanted to scream.
“I told him about that girl Blair being there. That I hadn’t mentioned it the first time because I didn’t think it was important. And then he goes and gets killed, and those girls get arrested. I feel really guilty.”
So Phoebe had been right. Hutch had contacted Wesley. After learning about Blair, he’d obviously pursued the lead on his own.
“You still there?” Wesley asked.
“Yes, I’m here. And no, you shouldn’t feel guilty. How would you have known what they were capable of?”
“I know what you’re going to say next. You’re going to tell me to call the cops again. I already did. I called them right away once I heard about Hutchinson’s death.”
“Good,” Phoebe said. “Did Hutch ask you any specific questions about that night at Cat Tails?”
“Hutch? Oh, did you know him yourself?”
“Yes, a little bit.”
“I don’t recall him asking any specific questions. He just wanted me to go over that night again. You know, describe everything I could remember.”
“Did he give you any hint about what was on his mind—I mean, about any theories he might have had?”
“No, he didn’t let on about anything to me. He just said once more that he was sorry he hadn’t taken my situation more seriously last year—and that was it. Excuse me a sec, will you?” He turned from the phone. “If you’re looking for the fifty-pound bags, they’re against the wall.”
“One more thing, Wesley,” Phoebe said when she had his attention again. “Hutch reviewed the notes he and I both took about you being in the river, and he said he found something important in them—though he never had the opportunity to share it with me. By any chance, did he mention those notes to you?”
“Um, no. He just seemed interested in that girl, Blair.”
“Okay,” Phoebe said, frustrated. “If something occurs to you, just leave me a message.”
After signing off, she tossed the phone down and rested her chin in her hand, thinking. Something still gnawed at her, something she couldn’t see.
Her phone rang, and she swung her eyes toward it on the desk. The screen displayed a number she didn’t recognize.
“Hello, Phoebe,” a man’s voice said as soon as she picked up.
Her body tightened in surprise as she realized the caller’s identity.
Alec.
26
“HELLO, ALEC,” PHOEBE said trying to keep her voice casual. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?” he asked, as if her question had baffled him. But why wouldn’t she ask that? The last time she’d actually spoken to the man was back in April, when he’d been sweet enough to update her on his new relationship status. After that there had been a few final details for the two of them to sort out about bills and joint possessions, mostly handled via e-mail. Oh, I’ve got it, she thought: he needs information of some kind—the name of the hotel they’d loved in Aix-en-Provence, or whether his winter coat might still be stuffed in the back of her hall closet.
“Well, I doubt you’re calling to see what costume I wore for Halloween,” Phoebe said. “What can I do for you?”
“To be perfectly honest, I was simply calling to ask how you were.”
Oh, please, Phoebe said to herself. He can’t think I’d buy that.
“My phone doesn’t recognize the number on the screen,” she said. “Did you change jobs?”
“I did, actually. I’m with a new firm—Searles, Minka and Holt. Still in midtown, though.”
That was interesting, she thought. Had it become uncomfortable or too intense for him to work in the same firm as his new squeeze?
“I know you liked your firm,” Phoebe said. “Was this just too good of an offer to turn down?”
“More or less. But I didn’t call to talk about my new job. Like I said, I was wondering how you were doing.”
“Um, good, I guess. I’m enjoying teaching. And it’s been great to be around Glenda.”
A few seconds of silence followed. Phoebe found herself growing annoyed. Obviously Alec had an agenda, and she wished he’d just get it over with.
“That’s it?” Alec said finally. There was a tightness to his voice that Phoebe recognized. She’d ticked him off with the brevity of her response.
“I’m not really sure what you’re looking for, Alec,” Phoebe said. “It’s been months since we’ve talked. Do you want to know how my love life is? Or if there’s career life after plagiarism? If you can be more specific, I can probably do a better job of answering you.”
Don’t go all bitchy on him, she told herself. It’s not worth the psychic energy, and besides, you’ll regret it later.
She heard him take a breath. “There’s no reason to be sarcastic, Phoebe,” he said. “I read the New York Post stories. They said there might be some sort of a serial killer out there, and your name was mentioned in the same story. It also said someone on campus had accused you of plagiarism. I just wanted to be sure everything was okay.”
She still sensed an agenda hiding cagily somewhere, but she knew the best strategy would be to respond politely—and then hustle him off the phone.
“It’s nice of you to inquire, Alec. The plagiarism charges, by the way, were false. The Post will be running a retraction this week.”
“And you’re okay?”
She glanced down at her left arm, her fingers curling slightly out of the end of the sling.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you for asking. And how have you been? Happy with the job switch?”
“Yes, quite happy. Coincidentally, I have a client in Allentown, which isn’t all that far from you, I believe. I need to see him next week, and I was thinking that if I met with him in the morning, I could drive down afterward and take you to lunch.”
She nearly laughed in surprise. She’d not seen this coming at all. Not only didn’t she have a shred of interest in his offer, but she thought he had a lot of nerve to ask.
“I don’t think so, Alec. But thank you for thinking of me.”
“Do you mind my asking why not?”
“Hmm, let me see how to put it. You announced out of the blue you were done with the relationship and moved out. You didn’t even bother to get in touch when the tabloids were beating me to a bloody pulp. And then suddenly you want us to have a friendly lunch together.”
She’d really lost it that time, but she didn’t care.
“Out of the blue?”
“Pardon me?”
“You said I announced out of the blue that I was done with our relationship. Maybe if you’d been paying attention during the previous year, you would have realized things weren’t right for us.”
“Oh, were you sending smoke signals along the horizon, and I failed to notice them?”
“You just don’t get it, do you, Phoebe?” Alec snapped.
“Obviously not. Why don’t you tell me what I can’t seem to get?”
“You never see when something’s wrong because you’re always too preoccupied with your research. You lose sight of everyone, including yourself. It’s like you don’t really want to connect—or ever get your feet wet emotionally.”
She didn’t think Alec could affect her anymore, but she felt the sting of his words.
“Which implies that on the other hand, you were there for me,” she said. “But at a time when I needed you most, even just in friendship, you didn’t bother to pick up the phone. I have to go now. Good-bye.”