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Quickly Hawthorne returned to the outer office to get his coat. He needed to make sure that his laptop was safe. It contained the evidence about the pilfering and fake orders. No, not pilfering, thought Hawthorne, theft. And without that information the audit would be useless. As for Peter Roberts, the invisible student, a number of teachers remembered him from previous years, but there was no record of his ever having been at Bishop’s Hill.

Putting on his coat, Hawthorne hurried out the door of the office, only to bump into Fritz Skander, who was just entering. They both stepped back, startled.

“Thank God you’re safe,” said Skander. “I was terribly worried. How awful to be stuck out on Antelope Road and be forced to spend the night in your car. And with that girl as well. I should never have let you drive into Plymouth in the first place. Far too much confidence is placed in four-wheel-drive vehicles, if you ask my opinion. I was just coming to see if there was any sign of you.”

It occurred to Hawthorne that Skander was making these rather pointless remarks in order to give himself time to think. “I made it most of the way back. My car’s out near the end of the driveway.”

“And you’re not even wearing boots. Really, Jim, you’re hardly equipped for our New Hampshire winters. As soon as the snow stops I’ll have to take you into Plymouth and get you properly outfitted.” Skander wore a dark brown parka and an Irish fisherman’s hat. He began to unzip his coat. There were great lumps of snow on his boots. His cheeks were flushed and his smile had a fixed quality that struck Hawthorne as unusual.

“I’ve boots in my apartment. You were looking for me?”

“I must confess I was worried. Just last winter a fellow from Rumney froze to death when his car got stuck in a drift and he ran out of gas. Hendricks or Hennessy—I can’t recall the name. For a while I knew it as well as my own. But I was also hoping to catch dear Hilda. It seems that I missed her. I expect she marched off across the snow without even thinking of it. Native-born, of course—they never mind the snow.”

“Where are the students?”

“The ones who’re left have gathered over in Pierce with Alice. They’re toasting marshmallows and having a grand time.”

They were standing in the hallway. Skander removed his hat and shook off the snow. He continued to smile and his eyes seemed bright with pleasure.

“Have you been in my office?” asked Hawthorne.

“I just got here this minute.”

“Somebody destroyed my computer files on the school.”

Skander’s smile faded. “Good grief, how awful. You didn’t think I did it, did you?”

“I don’t know who did it.” Hawthorne recalled the smell of peppermint.

“Show me. What a dreadful thing to happen.”

Skander followed Hawthorne into his office. The lights flickered, dimming, then brightening again. Hawthorne pointed to the destroyed disks. “And the files have been erased from the hard drive as well.”

Skander seemed shocked. He picked up several of the floppies and turned them over. “This is a criminal act. It must have been the same person who wrecked Evings’s office.” He looked back at Hawthorne and his eyes were full of concern. “How dreadful for our friendship that we should come to distrust each other.”

“Surely you have to see that you’re a suspect.” Hawthorne didn’t take his eyes from Skander’s face.

“I know this is hard for you,” Skander said earnestly. “What with Clifford and Scott and those spiteful things old Pendergast told you. There’s nothing worse than conflicting stories. But believe me, I’m counting the minutes till the auditor arrives. Don’t worry, I won’t hold a grudge. You’re doing exactly what you should do. You need to get to the bottom of this. I’ve already explained that Pendergast had every reason to hate me. Who knows what other unsavory tricks he’d been playing.”

“Pendergast raped that girl,” said Hawthorne. “Even if she submitted willingly. And you became an accessory by not going to the police. It’s quite likely there’ll be charges against you.”

Skander put his hat back on. It was crooked and gave him a clownish aspect even though he appeared to be in pain. “The awful thing was that she was already dead. I knew I was taking a risk, but if the police had been brought in, it would have damaged the school tremendously. Of course, I was frightened, but there was no way to bring Gail back. A wonderful girl, in her own way. And so Pendergast was persuaded that it would be in the best interest of all concerned . . .”

“Did you persuade him?”

“I spoke to him but the actual decision came from someone on the board.”

“Hamilton Burke?”

“I’d rather not place the responsibility on his shoulders unless I absolutely must. You don’t know how hard it was for us all. But Mr. Burke was the one who came to me and asked if I would consider being interim headmaster. I must say I was flattered. Naturally, I had spoken to Mr. Burke on several occasions but I’d no idea that he had taken any particular notice of my existence. It was quite a step up for Hilda and me, though of course temporary. I had thought that Roger would get the appointment—he had lobbied for it quite actively—and I believe he was a tad disappointed. But there was some question about his wife, that Roger’s appointment, even if only for a short time, would give the school a greater church affiliation than a few board members thought prudent.”

Hawthorne considered how Skander’s explanations made everything even less intelligible. “Did you know that Burke was in negotiations with the Galileo Corporation to sell Bishop’s Hill?”

Skander tilted his head, as if he found Hawthorne’s question amusing. “You must see that the board has to engage in contingency planning. What if you’re not able to put the school back on its feet? Every month the interest on the loans comes due. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Burke wasn’t talking to half a dozen possible buyers. He hasn’t confided in me. But there’s always talk, of course, and believe me, the subject is upsetting to everyone. The closing of the school, the breakup of our little family. Is this what your meeting is to be about on Monday? No doubt it’s an excellent idea to have these matters discussed. For my part, I intend to do everything I can to make certain that Bishop’s Hill stays open.”

“I’m not sure I believe you,” said Hawthorne. There was nothing more to say for the moment. All he wanted was to go to his apartment and see if his laptop was safe.

Skander looked delighted. He reached out to take Hawthorne’s hand but Hawthorne stepped back. “But you don’t entirely
disbelieve
me, that’s the main thing. When the audit is completed, you’ll see how wrong you’ve been. Talk to Mr. Burke and the rest of the board. I don’t want to speak too soon, but I really think—thanks to you, of course—that Bishop’s Hill is almost out of danger and I plan to say as much at the meeting on Monday.”

They were walking out of the office. Clearly, the audit would prove Skander’s innocence or guilt—unless, that is, the records had been destroyed. As for Peter Roberts, Hawthorne would talk to a lawyer. Yet he dreaded it. Any investigation would necessarily lead to Pendergast and Gail Jensen, which would mean a storm of publicity and criminal charges. However, there was nothing else to be done.

“By the way,” asked Hawthorne, “have you seen Frank?”

“I’m actually on my way over to the kitchen right now. I think he means to put together something for dinner. I must say I’m impressed by how helpful he’s been.”

Hawthorne decided to push Skander a little. “You know, he first told me that he hardly knew who Scott McKinnon was. Now several people have told me that he knew Scott quite well. I wonder if we can fully trust him.”

Skander chuckled. “There you go again, playing detective. Really, you should leave these matters to the police. Frank is surely eccentric but he’s one of the best people we have around here. Look at how he’s working to make something special for us tonight. I’m sure he has a surprise planned.”

—

Five minutes later Hawthorne was hurrying down the hall toward his apartment. He began to go outside again, then decided to cut through Emerson to Adams Hall. Fifteen feet separated the doors between the two buildings but Hawthorne often avoided this path. He liked approaching his quarters from across the terrace, where the view of the mountains was especially splendid, and this route required what he saw as uselessly going up and down two flights of stairs. As he hurried down the hall, he again noticed the lights flicker.

The wind blew more strongly between the buildings. Hawthorne opened the door to Adams Hall and climbed the stairs. Normally Purvis locked the doors to Adams by five o’clock but today he must have been delayed by the weather. Entering his apartment, Hawthorne found himself trying to detect the smell of peppermint or evidence that someone had been in his rooms. Then he hurried to the bedroom. The laptop was in its usual place on the desk. Flicking it on, he determined that the files hadn’t been tampered with. In the desk drawer were his backup files. He took the computer and put it in the bureau drawer under a stack of shirts. Then he hid the floppies under the mattress.

Hawthorne changed his clothes, putting on a dark purple ski jacket, dark ski cap, and high rubber boots. Before leaving, he checked the phone but it was still dead. He wondered if somebody had cut the wires, though it easily could have been the storm. He wanted to call Kate and apologize for breaking their date that evening and he wanted to call Chief Moulton. Didn’t anyone at the school have a cell phone? Hawthorne tried to remember and made a mental note to get one for the office next week. He hurried toward the door, then paused and went back for the flashlight in the drawer of the telephone table.

Floyd Purvis had a small office in the school garage on the other side of Douglas Hall, and he also, Hawthorne recalled, had a cell phone. Hawthorne cut through Adams and out the door to the Common between Adams and Douglas. In his boots and ski jacket he felt himself ready for the deep snow but there was a minute when he was wading through the drifts between the two buildings when he could see neither. He couldn’t even see the light on top of Emerson. Then Douglas Hall loomed out of the dark. No lights were on but Hawthorne cut through the building and exited on the other side. Once more he plunged through the drifts. He lowered his head to keep the snow out of his eyes and adjusted his scarf so it wouldn’t get under his collar. After he had gone twenty or thirty feet, he saw the light over the school garage.

Purvis’s office was locked but Hawthorne opened it with his passkey. The night watchman was nowhere in evidence, nor did it seem that he had been in the office that day. The cigarette smoke smelled stale and the heater hadn’t been turned on, although the room was warm enough that Hawthorne’s glasses began to steam up. Wiping his glasses on his scarf, he searched the drawers of the desk for the cellular phone and found a full bottle of Jim Beam. He was tempted to empty it but he left it where it was. Purvis most likely had the cell phone with him and, seemingly, he wouldn’t be coming to work this evening. His truck probably wouldn’t make it down the unplowed roads. Hawthorne picked up the phone on the desk but there was no dial tone.

He decided to go over to Pierce and find Alice Beech. Perhaps the nurse had a cell phone or knew who had one. Hawthorne paused to tuck his pants into the tops of his boots and tighten the laces, then he shoved open the door. His footprints were already covered. He pushed his way forward, trying to lift his boots out of the snow. Ahead, toward the dormitory cottages, he saw the row of lights lining the walkway as glowing spheres—vague areas of light. He made his way toward them, lowering his head against the flakes that stung his face. Consequently, he didn’t see the figure approaching him till the other man spoke.

“Fritz, is that you?”

Looking up, Hawthorne couldn’t recognize the person, but the voice sounded like Bennett’s. The moon behind the clouds gave the snow a haunting luminosity and at times revealed the outline of the trees when the wind changed and the snow swirled off in other directions. Hawthorne began to take his flashlight from his pocket, then left it where it was.

“It’s me,” said Hawthorne. As he got closer, he began to make out Bennett’s features. Bennett wasn’t wearing a hat and his long blond hair seemed to have turned white. “Do you have a cell phone at your house?” Both had to raise their voices over the wind.

Bennett was up to his knees in the snow. “Why do you want one? Have you seen Fritz? It’s important that I find him.”

“I just saw him in Emerson. He was on his way to the kitchen to see what LeBrun was doing about dinner. Anyway, the phones aren’t working and I need to make a call.” Then he made out the fear in the other man’s voice. “Is something the matter?” He took another step toward Bennett, only to realize that Bennett was backing away.

“What’s LeBrun doing?” Bennett’s words seemed scattered by the wind.

“He has to take food over to the students in Pierce. Do you have a cell phone in your apartment?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s broken. Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you’ve got to get out of here. LeBrun’s dangerous. He’s gone right around the bend. You don’t know what he’ll do.” Bennett spoke quickly, as if his fear were propelling the words from his mouth.

“I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to,” said Hawthorne. “The roads are blocked.”

“You’d be safer going into the woods,” said Bennett, his voice rising to a shout. “And me too. We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Did you get Frank LeBrun to wreck Clifford’s office? Did you pay him to do it?”

“You don’t know. It’s worse than that, worse than you can imagine. Listen to me, I’m doing you a favor. You’d be safer in the fucking forest!” Backing away, Bennett stumbled and fell. Then he got up and began running through the snow toward Douglas.

“Roger!” Hawthorne called. But Bennett kept trying to run. Hawthorne watched him fade into the swirling dark. He thought of how Jessica had gone to the kitchen looking for milk. He felt afraid, but whether it was for Jessica or himself he couldn’t tell.

Hawthorne kept on toward Pierce, the third in the row of residence cottages. He hoped to find Jessica, to see if she was all right. The night, or what was fast becoming night, was without limit or order. Hawthorne knew the snow would eventually end, yet at that moment it seemed immense and endless. His anxiety increased. What was wrong with Bennett? Why was he looking for Skander and LeBrun? Or perhaps he wasn’t looking for them, perhaps he only wanted to know where they were so he could stay out of their path. But why had he urged him to leave?