Grey Dawn (17 page)

None of her friends responded to that, and Dulcie shivered. Here in the Square, there were plenty of street lights to illuminate the night. It was the cold that was getting to her, she decided. Not the full moon, bright overhead. Still, she found herself wondering. ‘Does anyone know if Lukos is going to be there?'

Trista turned toward her with a sly grin that reflected the night's blue-white glow. ‘You felt it, too. Huh?'

‘No,' Dulcie shook her head, unwilling to let Trista explain. Clearly, she had missed something while checking her voicemail. ‘He's good looking, but there's something creepy about him. I just wanted a chance to talk to him.' She remembered the professor standing with Nancy. The way he'd hid his hand, as if he'd hurt it, perhaps in a struggle.

‘He took off.' Trista had the word. ‘I saw him get into a cab and heard him say Logan.'

Dulcie looked at her friend. She wasn't sure she wanted to know why Trista had been so close to the visiting professor. In this light, a combination of street lights and store windows, she looked foreign – different somehow. ‘Are you sure he made it to the airport? I had some questions for him.'

‘I didn't see him come back, if that's what you mean. If I had known you were looking out for him, too …' Trista's grin only grew.

‘Not like that, Trista.' Dulcie's patience was wearing thin. ‘But, don't you think it's odd that he arrived at the party so late? I mean, first he was seen with Mina. Then he's not where he's supposed to be – and Mina's room-mate gets attacked?'

‘Does this mean you don't think it's Thorpe any more?' Raleigh looked hopeful. The kitten, of course.

‘I don't know.' Dulcie shook her head. ‘They're both acting weird. But someone is attacking women – women who are in our department.'

‘Well, I'm happy to escort any of you home tonight,' said Lloyd. ‘Or anywhere after dark.' His voice was still somewhat nasal, but it was such a gallant offer that Raleigh grabbed him for a kiss.

‘Thanks, Lloyd.' Dulcie smiled her thanks, as did Trista. Though Trista, Dulcie thought to herself, was probably more formidable in a fight than her office-mate. ‘I will say,' she added, ‘that this is one reason why I wouldn't mind a woman taking over.'

Raleigh turned toward her. ‘More attention to women's safety?'

‘More attention to women novelists,' Trista suggested. And before Lloyd could jump in, Dulcie added her own caveat.

‘And, yes, I do know that if Showalter gets it, that probably fills the requirement for a specialist in the Gothic canon. And, yes, I'm fine with it.' She sensed her friends' surprise. ‘I just think that maybe she would be a better choice for the university. Better for the department, anyway.'

‘Showalter wouldn't necessarily edge you out. She really wanted to talk with you.' Lloyd noted. Dulcie didn't know how much he had heard. ‘She seemed really interested in your work.' He looked up at Raleigh and Trista. ‘Showalter had read Dulcie's paper.'

‘That's great, Dulcie,' said Raleigh, and Trista chimed in. ‘Cool!'

‘I don't know.' Dulcie shrugged, pulling the collar of her big sweater closer. From what the visiting scholar had said, it sounded like maybe she had already uncovered the book Dulcie was seeking. Or worse – proof that her author hadn't written it. ‘Maybe.'

‘Dulcie's just gun shy,' Lloyd decided. ‘She's had bad luck with advisers. Can you blame her if she just wants everyone to leave her alone?'

‘Good luck with that. Oh, speak of the devil.' Trista had dropped her voice, but they all looked. About a block ahead of them stood Martin Thorpe. He was facing away from them, staring at the darkness between two buildings. Dulcie couldn't help but remember what had happened the night before. Was he hearing a cry – of a kitten or a wounded woman – in that alley? Or was he contemplating the darkness for another reason?

Dulcie's sweater, thick as it was, was no match for the November night. She was shivering, her teeth clenched to keep them from chattering. It wasn't just the cold, though. She knew that – and she knew what she had to do.

‘Mr Thorpe,' she called, affecting a jollity she didn't feel. ‘Over here!' She waved.

‘Dulcie, what are you doing?' Trista reached for her arm and pulled it down. ‘You
want
him to join us?'

‘I want some answers.' Dulcie hissed through her teeth.

He didn't hear her. He couldn't have; he was still too far away. It didn't matter, though, what he heard or what Dulcie wanted. As the friends stood, rooted to the sidewalk, the acting head of the English and American Literature and Language department turned and stared. His remaining hair was wild, glowing like steel wool under the street lamp, and his eyes were shadowed. Dulcie knew he recognized them, though. She was positive she could see a spark in his hooded eyes. Her friends didn't seem so sure.

‘Maybe he can't see us,' Raleigh suggested. ‘We're kind of in shadow here.'

‘Mr Thorpe!' Dulcie called again. ‘It's me. I mean, it's I!'

It didn't matter. Even as they started walking again, he straightened up, pulled down the edges of his jacket as if to neaten it. And then he took off, in a long, loping run down the street and away from them.

‘T
hat was weird.' Lloyd sniffed.

‘He's a weird dude.' Trista just sounded peeved. ‘But that was rude.'

‘Come on, guys.' It was up to Raleigh to play the peacemaker. ‘He's under enormous stress. And it's pretty obvious where we're going: to Emerson to hear Showalter. Maybe he was on his way there. Maybe he was hoping to sneak in, without anyone seeing him or something.'

‘He could've said something.' Trista was not going to be mollified. ‘He could have walked with us at least.'

Dulcie turned toward her friend. A moment ago, Trista hadn't wanted the attention of the balding scholar. Now that he had fled, however, she was looking after him. He'd run, Dulcie noticed, up toward the Common.

‘Well, he's not heading toward Emerson any longer,' she noted, slowly. ‘In fact, I think he was coming from there when we saw him.'

Her adviser had been standing when they saw him, but he'd been facing them – as if walking away from the Yard.

‘Maybe his nerve failed him,' said Raleigh.

‘Maybe the room was too full and everyone was too excited to hear Showalter.' Trista definitely had an axe to grind.

‘Whatever, we should get moving.' Lloyd urged them forward, but Dulcie trailed behind. Thorpe had had a haunted look, and he'd definitely been coming from the Yard. Now he was heading toward the Common – and toward the Commodore.

‘You don't think he'd wait for her, do you?' She caught up to Trista and whispered her question.

‘Wait for whom? Showalter?' Dulcie nodded.

‘You mean, at her hotel?' Trista had noticed the direction Thorpe had taken, too. Dulcie nodded again.

‘What a creep.' Trista shuddered, and Dulcie didn't think it was from the cold.

‘Maybe we should warn her,' Dulcie suggested.

‘She wanted to talk with you anyway, so maybe you two could chat on the way to the lecture hall.' Lloyd had obviously heard the speculation. ‘I mean, I don't think Thorpe would do anything, but, you know, you could say something.'

‘Just tell her that he's been under tremendous stress,' suggested Raleigh. ‘Surely, she'll understand that.'

With that, they turned the corner. The gate on this side was unguarded, and Dulcie looked around, suddenly aware of the openness and vulnerability of the campus.

‘You okay?' Trista was looking at her funny.

‘Yeah,' she nodded. ‘I keep thinking of Emily and Mina.'

‘They weren't in the Yard.' Trista threw an arm around her friend. ‘There are people here, and you're with friends.'

‘Yeah.' Dulcie shivered and crossed her arms. ‘I'll be glad to get inside, though.'

‘New England.' Trista smiled over at her as they made for the building. ‘It always sneaks up on you, doesn't it?'

Suddenly aware of the time, the friends dashed up the steps. They needn't have worried. Although a respectable crowd had gathered in the first-floor lecture hall, they were able to find four seats together only halfway back.

‘Well, I'm still glad we got here when we did,' said Lloyd.

‘I'm glad the heat's working,' added Trista. ‘Dulcie here is like ice.'

‘I'm fine.' Dulcie forced a smile. ‘I just have to get my parka out of storage.'

‘I don't know, Dulcie.' Trista looked over at her. ‘Your hands – if I didn't know better, I'd have said you were the SoCal girl, not me.'

Raleigh looked concerned. ‘Should we share a cab home?'

‘No, I'll be fine,' said Dulcie. ‘Besides, we're going to the reception after, right?'

‘Mos def,' said Trista. ‘Nancy will expect us.'

Dulcie felt a stab of worry. She hadn't thought about the secretary in over an hour. They'd left her alone – with Thorpe. Was she okay? Should they go check on her now? Dulcie found herself fidgeting and forced herself to stop. After the lecture would be soon enough. If only it would start. If only Showalter didn't talk too long. She took off her sweater. Folded it. Then refolded it. Time seemed to slow down.

‘I wonder what's holding things up?' It was Raleigh. So the delay wasn't just in Dulcie's mind. Nor was Raleigh the only one wondering. Dulcie looked around and saw that the rest of the hall – nearly full, finally – was fidgeting. The noise level was growing, too, as students started questioning with increasing impatience.

‘Where is she?' Dulcie heard a woman ask. She craned her head around as other voices took up the query. ‘Did they reschedule again?'

Suddenly, the room grew quiet, and Dulcie turned back around. A woman was walking to the podium. Nancy, Dulcie saw with a wave of relief. The departmental secretary was wearing the same plaid skirt she'd had on earlier, the same turtleneck sweater, but she looked beautiful just then. Dulcie could have run up and kissed her.

‘Good evening,' she said, too quietly. Then, reaching for the microphone, she made some adjustments and her voice boomed out. ‘Good evening – oh!' She stepped back a bit. ‘Thank you all for coming tonight.'

Dulcie smiled. It was good that they were giving Nancy a little more responsibility. They should have let her practice, though, if they were going to have her announce Professor Showalter.

‘I'm afraid I have an announcement,' Nancy was saying. A murmur rose from the crowd. ‘It seems that tonight's lecture will not be happening as planned,' she said, and the murmur grew into a hum. Nancy waited until it died down a bit and then leaned into the mic. ‘We hope to reschedule, of course. I mean, we
will
reschedule.' Nancy looked around. The room was now silent. ‘But the second Newman lecture will not be happening tonight,' she said. ‘I'm afraid Professor Showalter, tonight's honored guest, has gone missing.'

T
he hall erupted, and Dulcie jumped out of her seat. Her first concern was for Nancy. The poor woman looked flustered, and Dulcie pushed her way to the front to be with her.

‘Nancy!' Dulcie waved over a sea of students. ‘This way!'

It took the secretary several minutes, as it seemed every student in the hall had a question or concern to share.

‘My word.' She finally met Dulcie in the hall. By then, the attendees had begun to file out, although the noise level had hardly abated. ‘I think, perhaps, I handled that badly.'

‘What else could you have said?' Trista had made her way over, too.

‘Maybe I should simply have announced that she had canceled or that there had been a technical difficulty.' The older woman was breathing heavily. Dulcie took her arm and led her to the back stairs, where she could sit. ‘I'm afraid I panicked.'

‘You did fine.' Dulcie sat beside her.

‘Why was it up to you, anyway?' Trista asked. Dulcie looked up: it was a good question.

‘Nobody else was there.' Nancy shrugged. ‘The dean was only scheduled for last night, for the first lecture, and, well, I gather Mr Thorpe was supposed to make arrangements. The student from technical services came to ask where everyone was. He had the PA all set up and he wanted to do a sound check.'

‘That's why Thorpe was running toward the street.' Dulcie was thinking out loud. ‘He must have been searching for her – or going to meet her.'

‘What? Mr Thorpe?' Nancy was looking at her funny. ‘You saw him?'

‘Well, yes.' A sliver of doubt began to creep up Dulcie's spine. ‘We saw him out on the street. He was heading in the direction of her hotel. He looked a little frazzled.'

Nancy was shaking her head. ‘I wish he'd said something. Left a note for me.' She paused, biting her lip. ‘I hope he's not upset with me. As it was, I called the hotel, and they tried her room. I didn't know what else to do.'

They all turned to her.

‘If he'd had word from Professor Showalter, I wish he'd have let me know,' Nancy continued. ‘But he didn't. He took off almost immediately after you left, Dulcie. Thundered down the stairs like some kind of wild animal. I didn't dare ask him where he was going, he'd been in such a mood – and I haven't seen him since.'

For lack of anything better to do, the friends escorted Nancy back to the departmental headquarters. The door was locked when they got there – and the alarm had been set – but Dulcie didn't relax until she and Trista had checked the upper floors.

‘No sign of him.' Dulcie announced, coming down the stairs. ‘Or her, either.'

‘I was wondering if I should contact someone in the administration,' Nancy had taken the reception cheese plate out of the office's small refrigerator, and Trista was digging in. ‘But I didn't want to do anything – do the wrong thing – without Mr Thorpe's permission. Still, this is highly unusual. She could have met with an accident.'