The Hand on the Wall(8)

Now that Charles was primed and listening, it was time for Stevie to get the thing she came for—information.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Of course.”

She stared at the green clock as its delicate, ancient hands moved perfectly around its face. “It’s about Albert Ellingham,” she said.

“You probably know more about him than I do.”

“It’s about something in his will. There are rumors that there’s something in there, something that says that if someone found Alice they’d get all the money. Or a lot of money. A reward fund. And if she wasn’t found, the money would come to the school. I always thought this was a rumor . . . but Dr. Fenton believed it. You’re on the board, right? You would know. And isn’t there something about the school getting more money soon?”

Charles tipped back in his chair and set his hand on his head.

“I don’t want to speak ill of anyone,” he said, “especially someone who is recently deceased under such tragic circumstances, but it seems like Dr. Fenton had some issues we weren’t entirely aware of.”

“She had a drinking problem. It doesn’t make her wrong.”

“No,” he said, nodding in acknowledgment of this. “There is nothing in the will about any kind of reward if Alice is found. There are some funds that would have gone to Alice had she been alive. Those funds will be released. That’s how we’re building the art barn and some other new buildings.”

It was so plain and simple. Like that, Fenton’s far-fetched notions seemed to go up in smoke.

Like Fenton’s house.

“Now can I ask you about something?” he said. “David Eastman went to Burlington and didn’t come back to campus. I didn’t want to get you involved in this. You’ve been through enough. But David’s father . . .”

“Is Senator King.”

“I assumed you knew,” he said, nodding soberly. “It’s something we keep very quiet around here. There are security reasons—a senator’s son requires a certain level of protection. And this senator . . .”

“Is a monster,” Stevie said.

“Is someone with very polarizing political beliefs that not all of us agree with. But you said it better.”

Stevie and Charles shared a half smile.

“I’m confiding in you, Stevie. I know Senator King was involved in your return to the school. I can’t imagine you enjoyed that very much.”

“He came to my house.”

“You are close to David?” he asked.

“We’re . . .”

She could picture every moment of it. The way they had first kissed. Rolling on the floor of her room. The time the two of them had been in the tunnel. The feel of his curls between her fingers. His body, lean and strong and warm and . . .

“He’s my housemate,” she said.

“And you have no idea where he is?”

“No,” she said. Which was true. She had no idea. He had not returned her texts. “He’s not . . . chatty.”

“I’ll tell you honestly, we’re on the edge here, Stevie. If one more thing happens, I don’t know how we keep the doors open. So if he does contact you, would you consider telling me?”

It was a fair request, reasonably made. She nodded.

“Thanks,” he said. “You know that Dr. Fenton had a nephew? He’s a student at the university, and he lived with her.”

“Hunter,” Stevie replied.

“Well, he has no home now. So admin has decided that, since Dr. Fenton was advising one of our students and had such an interest in Ellingham, he can stay here until he gets a new place to live. And since your house is emptier than normal . . .”

This was true. The place rattled and creaked at night now that half its residents were missing or dead.

“He’ll drive to campus when he needs to. But it seemed like the least we could do as a school. We made the offer, and he accepted. I think, like his aunt, he has an interest in this place.”

“When is he coming?”

“Tomorrow, when he’s discharged from the hospital. He’s doing fine, but they kept him for observation and so the police could speak to him. He lost all his things in the fire, so the school is helping out to get him some basics. I’ve had to cancel trips to Burlington because of David, but I could authorize a trip to have you get him some things he’ll need? I imagine you might be better at picking out things he might like than someone old like me.”

He opened up his wallet and removed a credit card, which he passed over to her.

“He needs a new coat, some boots, and some warm things, like fleeces and socks and slippers. Try to keep it under a thousand. I can have someone from security take you to L.L. Bean, and you can have an hour in town. Do you think a trip to town might help you?”

“Definitely,” Stevie said. This was an unexpected and very welcome turn of events. Maybe opening up was the way to go.

The moment Stevie was outside, she pulled out her phone and texted a message.

Coming to Burlington. Can you come meet me?

The reply came quickly.

Where and when?

It was time to get some real information.





3


BURLINGTON, VERMONT, IS A SMALL CITY, PERCHED ABOVE LAKE Champlain, a body of water that stretches between Vermont and New York. The lake is picturesque and vast, flowing up toward Canada. In better weather, there is sailing. Indeed, it was on this body of water that Albert Ellingham had taken his fatal sailing trip. The city around it was once serious and industrial; in recent years, it had a more artistic bent. There were studios, lots of yoga and new age shops. Everywhere there were hints of winter sports. This was especially true at the massive L.L. Bean, and its stock of snow shoes, snow-poking sticks, massive jackets, skis, and big boots radiated the message: “Vermont! You won’t believe how cold it gets here! It’s messed up!”