Sean grabbed my arm. “No. Even if you hadn’t given us Kirk Mason’s name, we wouldn’t have known exactly who to pursue, Lila. We still don’t! We’ve got a black-and-white sketch and a first name. This bastard has eluded us from the start. He’s like a shadow. And it’s not your job to catch shadows. It’s mine.” He stood up and held me tightly, and I let my tears fall. I’d been so scared a few minutes ago and all for nothing.
Too distracted to do any more work, I decided to call it a day despite Bentley’s decree that I should spend more time at the office. I headed for the exit with Sean, after informing Vicky that I’d be in to work very early the next morning to make up for today’s absences. Although tomorrow would be Saturday, most of us planned to come in to the office anyway, to get caught up with extra work we had pushed aside during preparations for the festival.
As we stepped onto the sidewalk, a light flashed in my eyes. Then another. Someone was taking photographs of us. I clutched Sean’s arm.
A freckle-faced young man with a Nikon slung around his neck advanced toward us, clutching a pen and notepad. “Can you give me a statement about what happened up there?”
“No comment.” Sean immediately stepped in front of me, obscuring the photographer’s view. While I appreciated the gesture, I wanted to know who the reporter was and peered around Sean’s head to see.
“Aw, come on! Four cops go rushing into the town’s literary agency and you can’t tell me why? The public deserves to know what’s going on.” He showed us his press card, indicating that he worked for the Dunston Herald. I didn’t recognize him from my time there. He stuck the card back in his pocket. “I can ask around, you know, but I’ll probably get a distorted view of the situation. Wouldn’t it be better for me to hear the story from a reliable source?”
I whispered in Sean’s ear, “We should talk to this guy. If Justyn’s name appears in the paper, people who know him might come forth with information.”
The journalist’s eyes widened and he wrote something in his notepad. “Justyn? Who’s Justyn?”
Sean sighed and turned to me. “You go on home, Lila. I’ll deal with this guy.” He moved as if to kiss me but then seemed to think better of it and squeezed my hand instead. “I’ll call you when my shift is over.”
I MANAGED TO make it back home before the rain began. Since I couldn’t walk outside, I donned gray sweatpants and a T-shirt and headed for my treadmill. The opening bars of “I Will Survive” blared out of the CD player as I started to build up my stride. After two minutes of warm-up, I ran faster and faster. Breathing hard, I let myself be hypnotized by the rhythm.
But the cadence of my pounding feet could not completely still my mind. Throughout the monotony of my jogging, I couldn’t shake the recollection of how frightened I had been in mistakenly thinking that Justyn—in my mind, Kirk Mason—was coming to my office to kill me. Whatever might have happened at the agency this afternoon, I’d been certain that I’d finally see an end to the horrors of the past week. I had believed our questions would be answered and the mystery solved.
But it was far from over.
And no matter what Sean said, my blunder in believing that Kirk Mason was Justyn had misdirected the police. I had to rectify that somehow, to figure out who and where Justyn was. I needed to redeem myself, not just in Sean’s eyes but also in my own.
Out of breath and sweaty, I felt better now that I’d resolved to take action. Slowing my pace, I stopped the machine, wiped my brow, and gulped some water. The relentless thudding of the bass on my exercise CD was aggravating now that I was no longer running, and I turned off the stereo. But the thumping continued. Puzzled, I stared at the speakers.
“Mom! Are you home?” Trey’s muffled voice came down the hallway and I realized that he’d been banging on the front door. I hurried to open it, finding my son standing on the porch with Jeff. Both boys were flushed and bright-eyed.
“We have a report,” Jeff said importantly.
“Come on in.” I stood aside to let them in the house. “Sorry, I’m a bit sweaty. I was just working out.”
“So that’s why you didn’t hear us ringing the bell. Were you getting your disco on again?” Trey followed Jeff inside, then led the way to the kitchen. “We went to your office, but the secretary said you’d gone home.” He opened the fridge and peered in. “Don’t you have any sodas?”
I shook my head. “Just orange juice and milk.”
As Trey poured juice into two glasses, Jeff shook off his jacket. “We found out what they’re up to at the co-op,” he said with a broad grin.
“‘Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end,’” I said, quoting Lewis Carroll.
“Huh?” Jeff looked perplexed.
“Don’t mind her.” Trey rolled his eyes. “She’s always quoting books. I happen to know that’s from Alice in Wonderland, because she used to say it to me when I was a kid and she wanted to know everything about my day.” He handed Jeff his drink.