Chapter 82
My efforts to pack for my stay in The Plains were hindered by a series of calls over the course of the morning, not all of them welcome.
Of the ones that were, or comparatively so, the first came from Angel to say that Louis had returned to Portland from Boston and the three of us should meet, urgently.
The second came from Moxie Castin, informing me that Alcock had consulted with his client, Ward Vose, and they would continue to pay me for as long as I was willing to look into Scott Theriault’s death.
“But you’d have continued regardless, right?”
“It’s Spero,” I said. “It’s piqued my interest.”
“Even if Vose and Alcock decided to save their money, I’d have ponied up,” said Moxie. “Knowing you’re irritating Santopietro helps me sleep better at night.”
“Roger Teal told me that Santopietro was intent on not going down the élan road. He was trying for something better.”
“Then he shouldn’t be in the troubled-teen business to begin with,” said Moxie, and hung up.
The final call was from Sabine Drew, which was the one that fell conclusively into the “unwelcome” category, if only because of my continuing reservations about her character.
“I left a message for you,” she said.
“I’ve been busy, but you were on my list.”
Which was close to the truth. She was on it, but I was in no hurry to get to her.
“Are you still looking into what happened in The Plains?”
“That depends,” I replied neutrally. “The situation is complex and unfolding.”
“My, how you weaponize vocabulary. It’s almost like you don’t trust me.”
“I don’t think you’d ever lie to me, but there are questions I’d prefer not to ask, for precisely that reason.”
Sabine dropped the matter.
“I’ve been spending time in the Kennebec Valley,” she said. “I went searching for Mallory Norton.”
“And?”
“I could find no trace, and I looked hard. She may be gone.”
Someone not paying attention, or unfamiliar with her ways, might have concluded that Sabine didn’t care. I didn’t make that mistake. We both knew that a person could bear only so much of the pain of others. One insulated oneself as best one could.
“Anything else?”
“I’m driving to Bingham right now,” she said. “I don’t know when I’ll be returning to Haynesville. I’ve met someone.”
“That’s … nice?” It came more like a question than intended, and also more skeptical.
“You sound ambivalent,” said Sabine, “though whether you’re more concerned for him or me, I wouldn’t like to speculate. Regardless, it’s important that we meet. I’d encourage you to make it sooner, not later.”
I saw no point in hiding my travel plans from her.
“I’m leaving for The Plains today,” I said.
“Then let’s meet.”
“Sabine, I—”
“Listen to me,” she said. “Something up there knows your name. Something very bad.”