Prism

by Faye Kellerman; Aliza Kellerman

  “The wife’s not happy?” I asked the Zekemeister.

  “No.” Zeke rubbed his forehead. He seemed to have aged since last night. I suppose we all did. “She broke up with me this morning.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  He looked me square in the eye. “Two reasons. One, she didn’t like the questions I was asking her. And two, she didn’t like my new friends. So if you’re worried about us hanging together, I wouldn’t be concerned. It looks like we’ve been made.”

  I felt sheepish. “I’m sorry.”

  Joy said, “We’ll sink or swim together.”

  Zeke smiled. “No worries. I’m a good enough swimmer for the three of us.”

  Boys and their bravado. Joy said, “Hey, Anderson, now that we’re ‘made’ and you’re not so busy, how about helping me with chemistry? I didn’t do my homework.”

  “Nothing better to do.”

  “My book’s in my locker.”

  Zeke stood up. “Might as well be useful to someone. Let’s go.”

  They left, and I smiled to myself.

  I hadn’t seen that one coming.

  Attraction works in strange ways.

  10

  The Nathaniel Hawthorne Library was housed in an old-fashioned building made of white stucco with marble fluted columns in front and a big peaked roof. People referred to it as the White House, and although that was an exaggeration, it was the closest thing we had to grand architecture. The interior was august, with high ceilings and a marble-tiled floor that clacked against high-heeled shoes. Lucky for us, we were wearing our Vans.

  We had all tried to dress up to look a little older and a little more professional. Joy wore a black skirt and dark sweater. I was in my orchestra uniform—a black skirt and a white blouse. Zeke had put on a polo shirt and slacks.

  There were shelves upon shelves filled with books, CDs, DVDs, and a lot of dust. No one knew where to start. Zeke whispered, “How do we do this?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “Jace said the archives are here, but it wouldn’t be smart to ask where they are.”

  “So how are we supposed to find them?”

  “Again, I don’t know.” I let out a sigh. “Maybe we should just start looking around?”

  We were all whispering. Joy coughed and dug into her purse, extracting a cigarette. When she saw disapproval in our eyes, she said, “I see at least three people here who’re smoking.”

  “That may be,” Zeke said softly, “but honestly, now?”

  “I’m just nervous.” She threw the cigarette back into her purse.

  It might have been my imagination, but I sensed that people were starting to stare at us. Was there something about our expressions that made us stand out? I picked up a random book and began to page through it, trying to look nonchalant.

  “What are you doing?” Zeke whispered.

  “Trying to fit in,” I answered.

  Zeke got it and so did Joy. They picked books from the shelves and started doing the same thing. Still looking at the book in front of me, I whispered, “The archives can’t be in the main section. Let’s try the basement.”

  “I didn’t know the library had a basement.” Zeke had picked up a botanical book on orchids.

  “Could be it doesn’t.” I put down the book. “The building has more than one story. Let’s find the stairwell.”

  We put our books back on the shelves and began to hunt for the stairs in earnest, carefully opening doors, hoping that one would lead somewhere. It took another five minutes, but Joy struck gold.

  “It goes down here,” she whispered to Zeke, who, in turn, waved me over.

  We all carefully slipped behind the door, and when it closed, we heard a click.

  Zeke tried the door. “Now we’re locked in.”

  I looked at the descending steps. “So that means we have nowhere to go but down.” I took in a deep breath and let it out. “We’ve been down unknown roads before.” Everyone knew what I was referring to. “We got out of that and we’ll get out of this.” My face felt hot, but I tried to show confidence. I led the way.

  Down one flight.

  Down two flights.

  To another door.

  “If this is locked, what do we do?” Joy asked.

  “We bang,” Zeke answered. He slowly began turning the knob.

  This one opened.

  The room was not much more than an average-sized office. A man in his early thirties with soft blond curls and a dusty mustache sat at the front desk. Next to him a beautiful Indian woman was on the phone. She looked exotic, with almond eyes and brown skin.

  “Excuse me.” I approached the desk with trepidation, like when you go into the dentist’s chair. Joy and Zeke were behind me. If they had any brains in their heads, their hearts were probably beating as fast as mine was.

  “Yes?”

  Again I took the lead. “We’re here for our college research project in the archives.”

  His expression turned hard. “Identification?”

  I showed him Erin White’s card.

  He scanned it.

  When it clicked, it was all I could do not to shout hurray.

  The man waited for Zeke and Joy to get out their IDs.

  I forged ahead. “They’re with me.”

  “I don’t care if they’re with the government.” He glared at me. “You don’t even look old enough to be in college. Lemme see that card again.”

  I handed it back to him and scratched my cheek. Foundation rubbed off. I had worn makeup, just as Jace instructed, but there was only so much that disguise could do.

  Again the card beeped when it was scanned. This emboldened me. “Can we go?”

  “Look here, little one. I’m giving your compadres a chance to get out of here without a black mark. Surely you don’t want me writing this up.” His stare was fierce. “You’re not fooling anyone. Go.”

  The Indian woman held the phone to her chest for a moment. “Is there a problem?”

  “Not so far, but if these two don’t leave”—he pointed to Zeke and Joy—“there certainly will be problems.”

  Joy broke first. “Let’s go.”

  The door from the stairwell opened, providing temporary distraction. When I saw who it was, my mouth dropped open.

  “Hi, Mr. Luckman.” Ozzy presented his ID and put a packet of papers onto the desk. Then he looked at us with unflappable eyes. “You guys beat me here.”

  I followed his lead. “That’s because you’re always late.”

  “Not so, but I am this time.” Ozzy’s eyes returned to Mr. Luckman’s face. “They’re all with me.” His posture was casual.

  “I can’t believe you’re back again.”

  “I know. I’m a pest. That’s why we’ve all been assigned to do the paper together. Less work for me.”

  The man’s face registered pure doubt. He turned to me. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the beginning?”

  “I told you we were doing a paper.”

  “But you didn’t say you were with Callahan.”

  “My mistake.” I tried out my best “I don’t give a damn” shrug.

  The man stuck Ozzy’s papers under another scanner. The machine beeped, then the light turned green. He placed the papers in a steel box.

  “These two jokers don’t have proper ID, Callahan. If you don’t start cooperating, I’m going to write you all up.”

  “Mr. Luckman is all bark but no bite,” Ozzy said confidently.

  “Don’t press it, Callahan.” Luckman’s eyes narrowed as he regarded my face. “Are you sure you’re in college?”

  “Next time I’ll bring in my grades.” I was amazed at my nerve. All that sass I gave my parents was finally paying off.

  Mustache Man kept glaring at me. Then he gave me the clipboard. “Sign in.”

  I began to write my name, starting with a cursive K, but then I caught myself. With a shaky hand, I wrote down Erin White. Ozzy looked at it but didn’t let on.

  I s
aid to Joy and Zeke, “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

  “Sure,” Zeke said. “I’ll write up the outline for the paper while you’re getting the information.”

  Joy nodded. “I’ll write up a first draft when you’ve gotten all that you need.”

  Both of them looked very happy to dump this on my lap.

  “How do we get out?” Zeke asked.

  “Same way you got in,” Luckman said.

  “The door locked behind us.”

  Luckman rolled his eyes. “When you reach the top, push the wall button and I’ll buzz you out. And I’d better not see either one of you again without proper ID.”

  They nodded and left very quickly.

  Ozzy said, “Let’s go, Erin. We’re under a time crunch.” He took me through a door that opened into a blindingly white hallway.

  I was thrown off by the starkness and the brightness, but what happened next really shook me up. Ozzy backed me into a corner and whispered, “Who are you?”

  “Get out of my face!” I whispered back with anger.

  He took a step back. “You sure as hell aren’t Erin White. How’d you get her ID? And how the hell did you know the code?”

  I stared at him for a long time. “I got the ID from…from someone who knew her very well. It was that person who told me about the archives.”

  “Who was it?”

  “None of your damn business.”

  No one spoke. Then Ozzy sighed. “Sorry.” He looked down. “Sorry, that was bad.”

  I noticed his hands were shaking. Something had riled him terribly. “Who is she? Erin White?” I was still whispering. When Ozzy didn’t answer, I said, “And, FYI, I don’t know what code you’re talking about.”

  He stood there, breathing hard, trying to calm himself. I was sufficiently composed to notice that he was still good-looking.

  He said, “Then why are you here?”

  Something clicked in my brain. “How’d you know I was here?”

  He shrugged, looking up at the ceiling and then back down, focusing his eyes anywhere but on me. He stuck his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt, which he wore over black jeans.

  Then it dawned on me. “Have you been following me?”

  “Why do you hang out with those guys?” he asked abruptly. “I see you with Maria…she’s your type. But Zeke and Joy?”

  “They’re my friends. What do you have against them?”

  “Nothing.” He looked down. “They just seem like a random group for you.”

  “What’s it your business?”

  “It isn’t.”

  “What code are you talking about?”

  “God, I have a big mouth!” he whispered to himself. He seemed to be angry, but this time not at me. “Please, please don’t tell anyone that I’ve asked you these questions.”

  I stared at him for a long time. “I won’t. I’ve learned the hard way that question-asking isn’t very welcome nowadays.” I exhaled. “Where are these archives?”

  His manner was offhand, but his expression was very sober. “What do you want to look up in the archives?”

  “Why don’t you take me to them and I’ll let you know.”

  His put his hand on my shoulder and smiled with white teeth. “Out here, there’s no camera. Once we step inside the door, we’ve got audio and video everywhere we go. Look like you’re flirting with me or something, okay?”

  I gave him my most pixyish smile, which wasn’t very good.

  He laughed. “I know you’re acting, but you look good when you smile.”

  “How do you know about the archives and Erin White?”

  “For another time. I’ll explain all. Please trust me on this.”

  “You get one chance, Ozzy. Don’t blow it.”

  “I understand.” He took my hand. “First we have to go through the stacks. Right this way, mademoiselle.”

  The door he opened led to another white room. This one had white shelving, a white ceiling, and a white floor. It looked more like a sanitarium than a library.

  We passed books on architecture. “What’s your favorite genre?” I asked him.

  “Oh, I’m all about romantic literature.” He wiggled his thick black eyebrows. “I love D. H. Lawrence.”

  Now I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”

  He laughed. “Nah, I’m putting you on. I like comic books and graphic novels.”

  “I like graphic novels, too.”

  He nudged me a bit in the ribs. “Don’t look so disappointed. In reality, I’m a science nerd.”

  “You’re no more of a science nerd than I am.”

  He hip-bumped me. “And how do you know that I’m not a science nerd?”

  That’s right. We have to flirt. I bumped him back. “I have a good feel for these kinds of things.”

  He gave an evaluating nod. If he wasn’t giving anything away, I wouldn’t either. We were standing in front of a tremendous door that seemed to be a foot thick. When he opened it, it creaked like something out of a gothic novel. Inside a few people were milling about. I had expected the archives to be an ancient-looking room with smelly leather and cobwebs. I was let down that it was again a bright, white room. Everything here was so utterly sanitized. I felt myself break into a sweat. The white reminded me of the cleanup crew.

  A woman with a bundle of red curls was sitting behind a pearlescent plastic desk. Ozzy presented her with his ID, and I gave her my Erin White ID. Even though my ID beeped, she seemed to be assessing us.

  Ozzy added, “I was just screened a second ago, Elaine.”

  “It’s not you, Callahan—it’s her. She looks about fourteen. Do you have your driver’s license?”

  “I left it at home,” I told her. “He drove.”

  Elaine picked up the phone and spoke quietly over the line. When she hung up, she said, “Mr. Luckman said just this once.” She was looking at me.

  “I know I look young for a college student.”

  “Then bring ID with your birth date.”

  “Thanks, Elaine,” Ozzy told her.

  “Don’t push my goodwill too far.” She checked her watch. “You know the drill. Fifteen minutes.”

  “You bet.” Ozzy led me down a white hallway. There were no bookshelves, only numbered doors.

  We cut a turn.

  Another hallway.

  More sanitarium white.

  More doors with numbers on them.

  It seemed that we were standing in utter emptiness.

  I’m not going to lie—I was creeped out. If Ozzy hadn’t been there, I would have been totally lost.

  He touched my shoulder and whispered, “We’re going to have to talk about this at some point.”

  I tensed. “When?”

  “I dunno.” He grinned a little on one side of his mouth. “Soon.”

  It was all very confusing. Did I dare tell him my theories? He could be one of the bad guys. For all I knew, he might be part of that cleanup crew. Maybe he would sooner throw me in the van than help me.

  Ozzy took my hand. “What are you looking for?”

  Answers, I thought. But I didn’t say anything.

  “I know this place pretty well…and I think I might know what you want.”

  That would make one of us, I said to myself.

  “Wait here,” Ozzy told me. “It’ll be faster without you. Besides, I don’t look like I’m about to faint with fright.”

  “I’m fine,” I defended myself.

  “You’re fine for someone who just got here, but you’re not fine for someone who doesn’t know what’s going on.”

  “What do you mean just got here?”

  He evaluated me. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I suspect I’m not. Let me put it this way. There have been the rare others like you, Kaida, but I’m willing to lay money that you’re probably the cutest. Wait here and I’ll be back.” He squeezed my fingers before he let go and disappeared behind one of the doors.

  The minutes dragged endlessly. I felt my heart beat and
my head throb and I had to concentrate on my breathing to make sure I didn’t start panicking. But it was very hard. I was alone. Everything was bathed in white, not a thing to distract my attention.

  I kept checking my watch. For every minute that passed, it seemed like ten. Finally, Ozzy reappeared, carrying five or six thick plastic folders.

  “Let’s go.” He started to walk away and I dogged his heels. I wouldn’t have followed him had I been sure of my ability to navigate out of the crazy labyrinth.

  “Wait a second!” I told him. “My legs are a little shorter than yours.”

  He slowed. “Sorry.”

  “How do you know what I’m looking for?”

  He turned to me. “You have to get rid of your friends. We’ll clue them in later.”

  “Clue them in to what? You’ve got to be more forthcoming before I do anything.”

  “Not here.”

  “Then don’t bring it up.”

  He didn’t answer. I didn’t know if we were retracing our steps or not because everything looked the same.

  “Who’s Iona Boyd?” I asked him.

  “A professor. We’ll talk about it later.”

  Somehow he managed to get us back into the white room with the books, and then past the first interrogation desk.

  Mr. Luckman took a long time examining the papers that Ozzy had taken. He said, “You can’t have this one…or this one…or this one.” He looked up. “You’ll need Professor Boyd’s prior approval.”

  “Last time you let me have this one.” Ozzy pointed to a folder.

  “Well, this time you’re out of luck.”

  “You’re the boss. I’ll speak to Professor Boyd about it.”

  “Do that.” Luckman handed Ozzy the remaining three folders. “You know the rules, but I have to tell them to you anyway. Papers stay in the special glassine folders. Maximum exposure to light is two minutes or else they start fading. Have them back on Sunday—tomorrow—by nine in the morning. Give me your thumb.”

  Ozzy complied. Luckman took a thumbprint on a sheet of paper and then placed it into a drawer.

  Now it was my turn to be grilled.

  Luckman said, “Did you check anything out?”