Page 58 of A River Red With Blood
“I’m okay to drive.”
Sadlier did his best to hide his disappointment.His best wasn’t good enough, though, because Sabine noticed.
“But,” she added, “I’m going to hold off on heading home until tomorrow.It’s been a long day, and I’m too tired and achy to drive for hours.I took a room last night at the Motor Inn, and I doubt they’ll refuse me a second night.I’m worried about my car, though.”
“It’ll be safe where it is,” said Sadlier.“But if it’ll make you happier, I can ask someone in town to head out there with me and drive it back.I know a few people who’d be happy to do it.”
Sabine said that she thought she might prefer to have the car where she could see it.Sadlier told her that he’d drop her at the inn and take care of the car after.
“And then I’d like a stiff drink,” said Sabine, “and something to eat.Perhaps you might care to join me?The least I can do is buy you dinner in return for your assistance.We might have to dine at the Motor Inn, though.I don’t really feel up to another long ride.”
Tim Sadlier grinned like a Halloween jack-o’-lantern and said he thought that would be fine, just fine.
“But my treat,” he added.“You’re the visitor.And the patient.”
Sabine didn’t argue.She was, she thought, getting rather good at staying out of her own way.
Chapter 56
Once she was settled at the Motor Inn—she’d even been given the same room again—Sabine undressed slowly, filled the bathroom sink, and bathed with a washcloth.The nurse had instructed her on how to wrap the bandaged area in plastic when she showered, but it was too much trouble to go to, even without worrying about the potential consequences of slipping while getting in or out of the tub.Her jeans were muddied, and one of the knees was torn, so she set them aside and put on her pyjama bottomsand sweatshirt.She’d have to wait for Sadlier to return with her car and overnight bag before she could finish dressing.
She sat on the bed.From her jacket pocket she removed the strands of Mallory Norton’s hair, held them to her nose, and inhaled.She closed her eyes and tried to bring to mind the mass of emotion and negative energy that had sent her sprawling in the dirt, but no, she could not recall any hint of Mallory’s presence.In the quiet of the motel room, she sifted through her memories of the incident.Yes, the Theriault boy was definitely in there somewhere, but he was not the one that worried her.It was the Other, and even as it tried to conceal itself from her, it could not disguise its nature or itsname.
Sabine lay down and napped for a while, to be woken by a knock at the door, followed by Tim Sadlier’s voice.She set aside any further thoughts of the forest and opened the door to him.He had changed his clothes, brushed his hair, and put on aftershave.In one hand he was holding a plastic bag with what smelled like a roast chicken inside, and in the other was a second clear bag containing a six-pack of beer, a bottle of wine, a quarter pint of vodka, and what might have been cans of tonic water.
“How many more people are we expecting?”she asked.
“None, I hope.”
Sabine invited him to step inside.As he did, she kissed him.
Chapter 57
The Maine Department of Education in Augusta occupied part of the Burton M.Cross Office Building, which wouldn’t have looked out of place in Nicolae Ceaus,escu’s Communist Romania, right before the dictator and his wife were put up against a wall and shot.The building dated from the fifties, and despite being renovated in the twenty-first century, still dated from the fifties.
I’d made an appointment to speak to someone who might be able to answer questions about private schools in the state, and was directed by the receptionist to the commissioner’s office, where Jenny Berrien, assistant director of public affairs, was said to be waiting for me.I ended up waiting for her, which evoked uncomfortable memories of sitting outside the principal’s office at Scarborough High, trying to come up with a plausible reason why I’d been caught killing time at the Big 20 Bowling Center when I should have been running indoor track.
Berrien, when she eventually showed up, turned out to be a tall, platinum-haired woman who, if she’d run track, would probably have wiped out the competition at anything over half a mile.She apologized for the delay and led me to an office that would have been small for just one and was intimate for two.I accepted coffee, which she made using a Nespresso machine perched on the windowsill in the absence of any other unoccupied space, the office being a shrine to paperwork.
“We don’t get many private investigators visiting us,” she said, as she worked on the coffee, “or not with your reputation.”
“For charm and good humor?”
“I may not have read that far,” she said.“I might have gotten caught up in all the gunfire.”
“If it’s any consolation, I found waiting for you kind of intimidating.I kept expecting someone to tell me I was suspended for aweek.”
“Didn’t like school?”
“Not a lot,” I said, “but the feeling was mutual.”
“I hated it too.I think anyone whose school days were the best days of their life ought to sue God for shortchanging them on the rest.”
“Strange that you ended up in the Department of Education, then.”
“I might have been trying to change the system from within, but those days are coming to a close.I have a few good years left in me, and a hankering to spend them in an advocacy role.”
By now she had two small but admittedly fragrant cups of coffee prepared, in matching maroon cups.As she handed over one of them, the cuff of her shirt rose to reveal the edge of an intricate sleeve of tattoos on her right arm.I glimpsed ivy and eyeballs, and what might have been a serpent.She was an interesting woman.
