Sweat wrung from David’s pores.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, getting up from the computer terminal. He walked down the aisle in time to see the man turn behind another bookshelf, his large shape moving across the spaces between the books on the shelf.
David turned the corner and stood at the end of the aisle, looking down the rows of books that emptied out onto the lobby. There was no one there, but he saw a shadow retreating along the walkway on the other side of the mechanized doors. Above his head, one of the tubed lights hissed at him then blinked out. When he glanced up, he could see the Rorschach shapes of insects skittering behind the panel of pebbled plastic that covered the fluorescent lights.
When he returned to the computer terminals, he found Ellie still seated in one of the plush armchairs with the large book opened on her lap, talking to a stout and frizzy-haired woman in her sixties. David recognized her as one of the librarians from behind the checkout desk. The librarian looked up at him and offered him a smile.
“Such a polite young man,” the librarian said to David. He thought she was talking about him at first, but then realized Ellie’s disguise had done the trick.
“You just caught him on a good day,” David said.
“Most kids, they come in here and go straight for the DVDs. Not that we get many kids in here anymore. It’s nice to see a child interested in books. And such an adult book, too,” she added, peering over at the text. “From our reference library.”
“He’s a reader, all right,” said David.
“Is there anything you needed help with?”
“No, ma’am. But thank you.”
When the librarian left, David lowered his voice and said, “What did she say to you?”
“Nothing,” said Ellie. “She just asked what I was reading.”
He glanced at the large book in her lap. “What are you reading?”
“It’s about bird eggs. All different kinds.” She turned the large book around for him and pointed to a photo of whitish eggs marbled with dark brown splotches. They looked like a Jackson Pollock painting. “These are oriole eggs. They look just like mine, don’t they?”
“They do,” he said. “I guess that makes sense. It’s Maryland’s state bird, you know.”
“Not anymore,” Ellie said, and closed the book.
32
He decided against driving straight to Kansas City, fearful that someone might recognize them in a big city, so they remained for a while longer in Harmony. He also wanted to check his e-mail at the Harmony library one more time before moving on. He was trying desperately to remain hopeful that he’d hear back from Tim.
There was a small movie theater showing cheesy sci-fi films from the sixties, so David bought a couple of tickets and, for a few hours, he and Ellie sat in the mostly empty movie theater, cloaked in darkness. They shared a bucket of popcorn and a large cup of Sprite, and a few times Ellie laughed at the ridiculousness of what was on-screen. David laughed right along with her. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if this was the last movie they would ever watch together. He felt jittery, sweaty, constantly paranoid that someone would come into the theater and try to pry him from his daughter.
Halfway through the movie, he felt something tickling his upper lip. He touched it and, even in the darkness of the theater, he could see there was blood on his fingertips. A column of panic rose up in him.
“I need to use the restroom,” he whispered in Ellie’s ear. He was covering his mouth and nose with his hand. “Stay here. Don’t leave the theater.”
“Okay.”
He hurried out into the lobby and, still covering his nose, made a beeline for the men’s room. Thankfully, the place was unoccupied. He went directly to the mirror just as a streamer of blood slipped from his right nostril, cascaded over his lips, and dripped off his chin onto the floor tiles.
“Shit.”
He grabbed a fistful of paper towels and pressed them to his face. He groped for the sink and turned on the water. It chugged out of the faucet in a noisy spray.
He soaked through several paper towels before the bleeding let up. He held his head back, pinching his nostrils together, while he wet a fresh wad of paper towels under the faucet. He stuck this wad into his mouth, wedging it between his gums and his upper lip, just the way his mother had done on the few occasions he’d gotten a nosebleed as a child.