Coven (16 page)

Lydia Prentiss could suspend her laughter no
more. The waitress was laughing too, and so were several patrons.
Wade bounced to his feet, a sweating, grinning idiot. “Excuse me,”
he said, and marched stiffly to the men’s room. Before the mirror,
he shouted: “What the hell is wrong with you! You’re making a
jackass out of yourself in front of quite possibly the most
beautiful woman on earth!”

The mirror was warped; his head looked
slanted. Two guys at the urinals were laughing it up real good.

It was the
foreignness
of the
situation that was causing this debacle. Something—perhaps
everything—about Lydia Prentiss had pulled the rug out from under
his social feet. Wade had commanded virtually every encounter in
his life that involved women. But now…now…

Now it was all gone. This female cop had
reduced him to a gibbering nudnik in the space of five minutes.

Control,
he thought.
I must regain
control.

He stared himself down. Then, as hard as he
could, he slapped himself in the face.

There. Now. Ready.

He went back to the booth, mindful of his
shoelaces. He sat down carefully. In his absence, she’d put a good
dent in her Old Nick. “This stuff’s pretty good,” she admitted.

“
I may not know
trigonometry but I do know beer.” He ordered another round, and
pointed to the cigarette she’d set up on end before her. “Aren’t
you going to smoke that?”

“
Not yet.” She seemed
dreamy, relaxed. “I’m going to look at it awhile first. I allow
myself only one per day.”

“
Oh, yeah? My friend Jervis
allows himself four per day. Four
packs.
” He sipped his Adams for moral
support and began: “Sorry about making a spectacle of myself. I
must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed today.”

“
Well, I’m sorry too,” she
said, looking down. “About this morning, I mean. I’m not always
like that.”

Wade rubbed his hands together. “Okay, now
that we’ve got that settled, let’s start over again.”

And something quite unusual followed. A kind
of bridge rose between them, a pleasant neutrality that lacked the
pressure of appearances. For the next hour and a half they…talked.
A day ago they’d been antagonists, but now they each provided
buried commonalities. He told her things about himself in ways she
found amusing. He told her far more than he planned. He told her
about his school problems, his inabilities at decision making, the
situation with Dad. She told him about her work problems, her
inabilities in respecting others, the situation with Chief White
and the other police. A wordless conclusion came at the end, that
they both dealt with their problems from the wrong angles. Wade was
fleeing from himself by being what others expected him to be, while
Lydia made the same flight by being just the opposite. Wade seemed
to be providing something she desperately needed without knowing
it, and it occurred to him that he was probably seeing a part of
her that no one else had for some time. In the course of an
evening, they’d become each other’s confessors. A few shreds of
their shadows had been freed.

Afterward they looked
bewildered at each other. A shocking acknowledgment
exchanged.
Did I say all that?
he thought.
And did she
say all that? To me?
Lydia looked down and
gulped. “Wow, I… I didn’t mean to drag you through my whole
life.”

“
I did some dragging of my
own. Look” —he touched his Adams— “our beers got warm. It’s not
just any woman who can divert me from my beer.”

“
I’m honored. Order some
more. I’ll be right back.”

She excused herself for the obvious. Wade
felt pleasantly exhausted, and still bewildered. The place had
become packed. Up front was standing room only. Abruptly, though,
the crowd began to quiet and part. People were frowning. They were
making way for someone, someone big. Then Porker lummoxed
through.

“
Well, well. Wade St. John,
every toilet’s favorite guy.”

“
Aw, Porker, tough luck.
The all you can eat pasta bar is closed.”

“
You’re a funny guy, St.
John. And you were real funny on the front page of the paper
today.”

“
Thanks… Say, have you lost
weight?”

Porker ignored the comment. His shadow
engulfed the entire table. He and Besser would make a great tag
team: the Blobsy Twins or something. “Who you here with?” Porker
demanded. “Your deadbeat friends? Or one of your usual
fast lane bimbo types?”

Wait’ll you see, big
guy,
Wade thought,
’cause here she comes.

Porker’s mastodonic physique turned. He
gaped, balloon faced in lust. The sight of Lydia nearly caused
him to fall backward, which surely would’ve collapsed the entire
brass and wood bar. “H hi, Lydia,” he yammered. “You’re sure
lookin’ good tonight.”

“
Thank you,” she said. Very
primly then, and to Porker’s complete outrage, she sat down across
from Wade.

Porker’s hooded pig eyes
flashed panic. “Y you’re with
him
?”

“
That’s right,” she
answered.

“
D don’t you know who
that is?”

“
Yes, Porker, I do. I’m a
big girl now.” She flashed him a seductive white smile. “But would
you do me a favor?”

“
Yuh yuh yeah.”

“
Don’t tell anyone, okay?
The chief might get the wrong idea.”

“
Sh sh sure,
Lydia.”

Her smile brightened. Her crossed arms drew
closer, to articulate her breasts. “Promise?”

Porker gulped, staring.
“Pruh pruh promise, sure.”

Wade was duly amused. This
wasn’t body language, it was body
hypnosis.
Porker’s portable radio
squawked, and as he answered it his eyes remained riveted to
Lydia’s breasts. Then he snapped it off. “Shit! We gotta big nine
out on the Route!”

“
See ya,” Lydia
said.

Porker hustled out. “What’s a nine?” Wade
asked her.

“
Traffic accident. White
probably needs him for a roadblock.”

“
I hope you’re not going to
get in trouble being here with me. I don’t guess police are allowed
to fraternize with students.”

“
I can deal with it,” she
said.

Before Wade could say
anything more, Porker rushed back in. “Lydia! I just got
another
call after the
nine. Vandalism out at North Admin. Chief White wants you to check
it out.”

“
I’m off duty,” Lydia
objected. “Send someone else.”

“
There is no one else—the
whole shift’s on the Route. A gas truck jackknifed, spilled gas all
over the place. Come on, take the call. It’ll only take you a few
minutes.”

Lydia frowned. “All right.”

Porker was gone again, and Lydia was
regretting, “Looks like I—” She slackened suddenly. “Shit, I
forgot! I don’t have a car!”

Wade smiled. “Don’t
worry.
I
have a
car.”

««—»»

Wade floored the Vette out of the inn’s lot,
dumping 400 plus horsepower onto the hardball. He did zero to
sixty in four seconds. Lydia’s gorgeous bright blond hair was a
flying mane. “Slow down!” she yelled.

Nonsense,
Wade thought. The Vette sucked down onto the road
as he slowed off the exit and blew through the campus gate. A
minute later he side skidded to a halt at the front steps of
North Admin.

“
Jesus Christ!” she yelled.
“That’s a highway, not the Indy 500!”

“
Relax,” Wade said. “I got
you here in” —he looked at his watch— “less than three
minutes.”

“
Come on,” she
said.

North Administration was the main records
hall. It stored all student personnel files and all the medical
files for the campus health clinic. Lydia’s high heels clipped
along the floor. Behind, Wade watched her figure traverse in the
tight black jeans.

“
Hey, you kids! What’cha
doin’ there?”

A bent duffer with a red nose approached,
holding a mop. Wade sympathized with him. Lydia flashed her badge
and ID.

“
Damn,” the janitor said.
“I only called three minutes ago.”

Wade smiled proudly.

“
I’m Officer Prentiss. You
reported some vandalism?”

“
That’s right. While I was
buffin’ the north wing floors, I noticed the clinic door open,
and I know I locked it earlier. First thing I see is the door frame
split, like it was kicked in, and I notice file drawers open,
folders layin’ about. Come on.”

He took them several doors down and turned
on the light. The clinician’s desk sat adorned with Hummel curios,
a Cross desk set, and a petty cash box. “Don’t touch
anything,” Lydia said. The whole scene distracted her, and Wade,
too, felt the wrongness of the room. Several file drawers hung
open, and a lot of folders had been tossed around the room, but
that was it.

“
This sure is patsy
vandalism,” Wade said. “They busted in just to throw a bunch of
files?”

“
This isn’t vandalism, it’s
burglary,” Lydia said.

“
Right. Blind burglars?” He
gestured at the desk. “They left the desk set, the clock, the cash
box?”

“
That’s not what they were
after.” She bent over the violated file cabinets. Someone had
forced the drawers open.

“
The files?” Wade
asked.

Lydia nodded. “They knew exactly which ones
to hit, too.”

“
But who would want a bunch
of files?”

Lydia didn’t answer. She breathed on the
metal cabinets. “Will you take me back to the station for a minute?
I need some things. I’ll also need you to help me, if you don’t
mind.”

“
Sure. I’ve got nothing to
do.”

She got the janitor’s name
and sent him on his way. Before they left, she stopped to examine
the door. The doorknob was gone.
Knocked
off,
Wade guessed. “Hey, here it is,” he
said, looking in.

“
Don’t touch it!” Lydia
exclaimed.

They both stooped over. It
hadn’t been knocked off, it looked
crushed.
Wade glanced at the door
frame itself. “Take a look,” he said.

It was hard to see at first. A palmprint had
been embedded in the wood. Closer inspection revealed more. It
wasn’t a print—it was an indentation. But this was a
solid wood door!

Lydia exhaled on the impression, checking
for a ridge pattern. When Wade stepped back to give her light, he
stepped on something. He could feel it under his shoe.

He looked down and flinched.

It was a beer cap.

He picked it up quickly, careful to conceal
it from her. He knew it was tampering with evidence, but the cap
provided a disturbing giveaway; he knew it at a glance. It was gold
with a trademark: a malt shovel and the red Gothic letters
“München Spaten Oktoberfest.”

««—»»

Tom poured back the rest of his Spaten
Oktoberfest. Damn, it was good! Malty but not harsh. Smooth, and a
pleasant aftertaste. Prime stuff, that was for sure.

Rebirth,
he thought. The night was his home now, his
sanctuary and his power. What more could a natural man ask for?
Good beer, a good car, and…immortality. He drove the Camaro through
quiet campus roads, looking around, seeing, feeling. Everything was
new, and everything old was behind him. Forever.

Who are they?
he wondered.
Or
what?

Tom laughed out loud. His laughter
trumpeted, and cracked echoes into the night. It sounded like
cannon fire.

“
Rebirth!” he shouted at
the top of his lungs.

It didn’t matter who they were, really, or
what.

Did it?

“
Destiny!”
Tom shouted.

He swigged his beer and opened another.

The Camaro roared off back to the sciences
center.

—

CHAPTER 15

Jervis sat in darkness before the open
window. The yellow quarter moon barely cleared the flat roof
of the opposing eight-story dorm, Lillian Hall. Jervis smoked,
drank, and waited.

Waiting for the
truth,
he pondered.
It’ll be arriving soon.

Czanek’s phantom brand receiver came
with the price. Jervis extended its antenna. To his left stood the
telescope, already focused on the black second story window.
It was a Bushnell 400x refractor; he bought it that afternoon for
$220 at Best Buy.

Czanek’s bug would let him
hear, and the telescope would let him see. A full window-shot at
this distance only required the 40x eyepiece. Seeing was important
to him. He needed to see, not as a voyeur, but as a seeker. Why did
he want to hurt himself by witnessing what he already knew? Why did
people do that?
To see,
he thought. To see the truth with his own eyes and
be caressed by its finality.

Then he heard something. A spark of static.
Voices?

He heard: “He’ll be here soon. Be patient.”
A man’s voice.

Jervis held the small
speaker to his ear. More:
—We mustn’t
waste time! We only have a few more days!