“When I was a kid, I was terrified by stories of witches and demons.”
“You said you spent a lot of time overhearing stories of headless horsemen and evil black cats.”
“Sure. And they scared me silly. I suppose you liked those stories? Horror tales. Movies likeThe Amityville HorrorandPoltergeist.”
“In a way,” she said, her voice growing cautious.
He laughed. “You don’t want me to know anything about you, do you? What do you do for fun, can you tell me that?”
She slowly tore off the crust from the sandwich and shrugged.
“I thought I saw a ghost one time at the factory,” he said, and she looked up at him. “Ah, now I’ve got your attention.”
She smiled at that. He seemed pleased with the reaction. She supposed he was used to people finding him charming and expected her to behave accordingly. Not that she knew how to behave with charming people. And there was always the danger that all those charmers were assholes in disguise, like Conrad Carter.
But she figured she could at least answer his question honestly.
“I’ve always been concerned with the idea of absolute evil. There’s cruelty in all those stories. Witches committing terrible deeds to get their kicks—but then if you spin it around and look at the witch trials, you have innocent people who are being accusedof something simply because their neighbors have a petty grudge against them.”
“A petty grudge, and they ate moldy bread.”
She nodded and checked her wristwatch. “Yeah. I need to head back to campus. I have rounds at nine. Thanks for the sandwich.”
“You have rounds? There’s no one there.”
“There’s a few people and it’s part of the job,” she said as she placed her books and notebook in her backpack.
“I’ll give you a ride. It’s better and faster than walking back in the dark.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
He drove the vintage white car that day. When he held the door open for her, she raised an eyebrow at him.
“I thought you were not supposed to borrow your grandmother’s car.”
“Are you going to tell on me?”
“No,” she said, and hopped in.
During the short drive, she chewed on the cap of a blue pen, hoping Hideo hadn’t arrived and been waiting for her. Soon the silhouette of Ledge House appeared ahead. Hideo’s car was not there yet. She’d returned on time.
Noah parked and turned to her. “Door to door.”
“Thanks again.”
“Well, you didn’t complain about my lousy baloney sandwich, so you deserved a prize. By the way, if you want to visit the inside of the factory, we could do it tomorrow, before Carolyn gets back. We can grab the keys and pop in and out. It’s not the same as swimming in the caviar pool, but what can I say?”
There really wasn’t much that interested her inside the factory, but she supposed it was a chance to talk to him again, and she wanted to see if she could get more information from him. Granted, she wasn’t quite surewhatshe was even after. One moment she felt like asking him about Thomas, the next she figured she should focus on Beatrice, then she considered discussing Carolyn.
“Okay, how about eleven?” she replied.
“Sounds good.”
He drove away and she climbed the steps up to the back door of the house. She tossed the backpack on the floor and turned on the lights. God, her neck ached. She had terrible posture. Her mother said she was going to end up a hunchback at forty because of the way she bent over her books. Maybe she was right.
Minerva closed her eyes and rubbed the back of her neck. She opened them again. On the kitchen table she noticed a dark lump and stepped closer: it was a dead rat, with its feet sticking up in the air.
1908: 7
