TO EL COMEDO
NEED BACKGROUND CHECK ON ONE RAFE LOSMARA…
He gave as much background as he could, Rafe's undergraduate school, year of graduation, anything he could remember from Lisl's glowing rambles about him, but he scrupulously avoided any mention of Rafe's present circumstances or whereabouts. He had to be careful here. Too much current data in the message would allow some nosy busybody in the network to contact Rafe and let him know that he was being investigated.
Bill closed with a circumspect note that he hoped would spur Nick to dig as deeply and quickly as he could:
… CHECK FOR POSSIBLE RELATION TO THE MISSING MYSTERY WOMAN WE WERE LOOKING FOR LAST TIME WE WERE TOGETHER. CHECK WITH OUR POLICE FRIEND. MAYBE HE CAN HELP OUT. PLEASE HURRY. URGENT, URGENT, URGENT!
IGNATIUS
Bill signed off and leaned back in his chair. He didn't have to leave it all to Nick. At lunch break tomorrow he could hit the university library and see if there was some way he could get hold of a copy of the Arizona State yearbook from last year.
Probably all a wild goose chase. No way Rafe and Sara could be related. Just a freak combination of light and shadow, nothing more.
Bill couldn't repress a shudder at the memory of how much Rafe had looked like Sara in that instant.
He picked up his Breviary and tried to concentrate oil his daily office.
This isn't working.
In the dark of her bedroom, Lisl coiled her arms around Rafe's neck and thrust her pelvis down against his. She'd wanted tonight to be different. Insisted, in fact. No belt, no symbolic beating, no taunts, no shouting, no catharsis—just lovemaking, pure and simple. So that was what they had done: strip, turn the lights off, and meet under the sheets.
But it wasn't working. Rafe had only half his usual tumescence, had even had difficulty penetrating her. Even now, sliding within her, she sensed his softness, his listlessness.
Suddenly she was angry. He wasn't going to cooperate. Was this how it was? If they didn't approach sex his way, he'd participate, but just barely? In a sudden burst of fury, she bit him on the shoulder.
Rafe started and groaned in her ear; she felt him harden within her as he began moving more ardently against her. She bit him again, deeper, tasting blood this time. Lisl couldn't help laughing as she felt him harden further, becoming stiff and straight as a broom handle. And like a witch, she rode him into the night.
FEBRUARY
TWENTY-TWO
Everett Sanders stood at the curb along the lower rim of the south parking lot and pretended to be a casual bystander watching three members of the grounds crew replace a section of hose in the underground sprinkler system. But his interest wasn't casual and he really wasn't watching the work.
He tried not to be obvious about it, but he wanted to get a close-up look at one of the workers. The one with the beard and the short ponytail. Lisl's friend.
Ever since that state policeman had shown him the photo, Ev had been plagued by a tantalizing sense of familiarity about that face. He'd always been good with faces—terrible with names, but he never forgot a face. He could run into a student he'd taught for a single semester and hadn't seen for years and immediately remember the course, the student's usual seat, and his or her final grade. But he'd be lost as to the name.
So when the policeman had shown him the photo, he'd been positive he'd seen that face before. It had taken him a whole week, but he was now ninety percent sure that the young priest in the photo and Lisl's groundskeeper friend were one and the same. Lisl and the fellow had lunched together outside last Friday and again yesterday. Ev had used his binoculars to watch him while they sat together under the bare elm but it hadn't been enough. The man's end of the conversation had been animated, with much head movement and many hand gestures, and Ev hadn't been able to get a good look.
He had decided yesterday that he would have to get closer to obtain that final ten percent of certainty. For he insisted on being completely sure before he pointed his finger at a man. A little disconcerting to break out of his usual daily routine—especially on a Wednesday afternoon when his time was always tightly budgeted—and wander the grounds looking for a mysterious stranger, but he reminded himself he was doing this to protect Lisl.
But he had found him and now little bursts of excitement twitched in his nerve endings as he edged closer. This was almost like private detective work, like being Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe for a day.
He noticed that although the man in question worked well with the others, he didn't seem completely a part of them. He talked with them, laughed at their jokes, but didn't seem to truly belong. Ev had the feeling that there was something within the man that kept him forever one step removed.
Like me.
"You get any closer, mister, you gon' fall in."
Ev was startled by the voice. As the other groundsmen laughed, he glanced up and smiled at the big shovel-wielding redhead who had spoken.
"I don't mean to disturb your work."
"Oh, you ain't disturbin' nothin'. But you sure ain't helpin', neither."
Ev wasn't sure if there was an undercurrent of hostility in the man's voice, or if he was just pulling his leg.
"I was just curious as to how deep in the ground you had to lay the hosing."
"Shoot! Ah don' know 'bout you, man, but Ah ain't abouta lay mah hose in the ground, Ah kin tell you that! Nossir!"
Amid renewed laughter, Lisl's groundsman looked up at Ev with his clear blue eyes. He was down on. his knees, adjusting a coupling.
"Aren't you Professor Sanders?"
Ev was somewhat taken aback at being recognized.
"Why… yes."
"I thought so. Well, Professor, down here we don't have to bury the hose too deep at all. A few inches will usually do. But up where you get a deep freeze, you've either got to lay the hose below the frost line or drain the system every fall."
Ev could tell by the trace of a northern accent in the man's voice that he knew about cold winters. He studied the face, looking for that last ten percent of certainty, but couldn't find it. And up close, the nose was all wrong.
The man shot a glance at the redhead.
"I'm surprised at you, Clancy," he said. "How'd you let that remark about freezing hose get by?"
Clancy smiled. "Ah guess Ah was too shook up thinking 'bout havin' to wait till fall to get man hose drained."
And in that instant, as Lisl's groundsman laughed with the others, Everett found what he'd been looking for. It was in the eyes. When he smiled, his lids, eyes, and eyebrows crinkled in a way that was identical to the photo.
"Thank you," Ev said, hiding his satisfaction.
"You clear on all this now?" Clancy said.
"Yes. I've learned precisely what I came to know."
He hurried back to his office, intent on calling the State Police immediately, but by the time he reached his desk he'd had second thoughts. Everyone had secrets—Lord knew, Everett had his own. Did he have a right to do the State Police's work for them and expose this man's?
The question plagued him the rest of the afternoon. He'd almost come to the decision to tear up the slip of paper with the state cop's name on it when he saw Lisl in the hall. She glanced at him, gave a quick wave, then turned away. She'd been acting that way for nearly a week. Almost as if she were avoiding him. Had he done something to offend her? He couldn't think of anything. But seeing her reminded him of just how disturbed this groundsman must be. He remembered how upset Lisl had been by that phone call in the middle of her Christmas party. It had ruined the whole day for her. The memory of her distress the following week angered him.