“I’m not sure I believe you,” said Hawthorne. There was nothing more to say for the moment. All he wanted was to go to his apartment and see if his laptop was safe.

Skander looked delighted. He reached out to take Hawthorne’s hand but Hawthorne stepped back. “But you don’t entirely disbelieve me, that’s the main thing. When the audit is completed, you’ll see how wrong you’ve been. Talk to Mr. Burke and the rest of the board. I don’t want to speak too soon, but I really think—thanks to you, of course—that Bishop’s Hill is almost out of danger and I plan to say as much at the meeting on Monday.”

They were walking out of the office. Clearly, the audit would prove Skander’s innocence or guilt—unless, that is, the records had been destroyed. As for Peter Roberts, Hawthorne would talk to a lawyer. Yet he dreaded it. Any investigation would necessarily lead to Pendergast and Gail Jensen, which would mean a storm of publicity and criminal charges. However, there was nothing else to be done.

“By the way,” asked Hawthorne, “have you seen Frank?”

“I’m actually on my way over to the kitchen right now. I think he means to put together something for dinner. I must say I’m impressed by how helpful he’s been.”

Hawthorne decided to push Skander a little. “You know, he first told me that he hardly knew who Scott McKinnon was. Now several people have told me that he knew Scott quite well. I wonder if we can fully trust him.”

Skander chuckled. “There you go again, playing detective. Really, you should leave these matters to the police. Frank is surely eccentric but he’s one of the best people we have around here. Look at how he’s working to make something special for us tonight. I’m sure he has a surprise planned.”

—

Five minutes later Hawthorne was hurrying down the hall toward his apartment. He began to go outside again, then decided to cut through Emerson to Adams Hall. Fifteen feet separated the doors between the two buildings but Hawthorne often avoided this path. He liked approaching his quarters from across the terrace, where the view of the mountains was especially splendid, and this route required what he saw as uselessly going up and down two flights of stairs. As he hurried down the hall, he again noticed the lights flicker.

The wind blew more strongly between the buildings. Hawthorne opened the door to Adams Hall and climbed the stairs. Normally Purvis locked the doors to Adams by five o’clock but today he must have been delayed by the weather. Entering his apartment, Hawthorne found himself trying to detect the smell of peppermint or evidence that someone had been in his rooms. Then he hurried to the bedroom. The laptop was in its usual place on the desk. Flicking it on, he determined that the files hadn’t been tampered with. In the desk drawer were his backup files. He took the computer and put it in the bureau drawer under a stack of shirts. Then he hid the floppies under the mattress.

Hawthorne changed his clothes, putting on a dark purple ski jacket, dark ski cap, and high rubber boots. Before leaving, he checked the phone but it was still dead. He wondered if somebody had cut the wires, though it easily could have been the storm. He wanted to call Kate and apologize for breaking their date that evening and he wanted to call Chief Moulton. Didn’t anyone at the school have a cell phone? Hawthorne tried to remember and made a mental note to get one for the office next week. He hurried toward the door, then paused and went back for the flashlight in the drawer of the telephone table.

Floyd Purvis had a small office in the school garage on the other side of Douglas Hall, and he also, Hawthorne recalled, had a cell phone. Hawthorne cut through Adams and out the door to the Common between Adams and Douglas. In his boots and ski jacket he felt himself ready for the deep snow but there was a minute when he was wading through the drifts between the two buildings when he could see neither. He couldn’t even see the light on top of Emerson. Then Douglas Hall loomed out of the dark. No lights were on but Hawthorne cut through the building and exited on the other side. Once more he plunged through the drifts. He lowered his head to keep the snow out of his eyes and adjusted his scarf so it wouldn’t get under his collar. After he had gone twenty or thirty feet, he saw the light over the school garage.

Purvis’s office was locked but Hawthorne opened it with his passkey. The night watchman was nowhere in evidence, nor did it seem that he had been in the office that day. The cigarette smoke smelled stale and the heater hadn’t been turned on, although the room was warm enough that Hawthorne’s glasses began to steam up. Wiping his glasses on his scarf, he searched the drawers of the desk for the cellular phone and found a full bottle of Jim Beam. He was tempted to empty it but he left it where it was. Purvis most likely had the cell phone with him and, seemingly, he wouldn’t be coming to work this evening. His truck probably wouldn’t make it down the unplowed roads. Hawthorne picked up the phone on the desk but there was no dial tone.

He decided to go over to Pierce and find Alice Beech. Perhaps the nurse had a cell phone or knew who had one. Hawthorne paused to tuck his pants into the tops of his boots and tighten the laces, then he shoved open the door. His footprints were already covered. He pushed his way forward, trying to lift his boots out of the snow. Ahead, toward the dormitory cottages, he saw the row of lights lining the walkway as glowing spheres—vague areas of light. He made his way toward them, lowering his head against the flakes that stung his face. Consequently, he didn’t see the figure approaching him till the other man spoke.

“Fritz, is that you?”

Looking up, Hawthorne couldn’t recognize the person, but the voice sounded like Bennett’s. The moon behind the clouds gave the snow a haunting luminosity and at times revealed the outline of the trees when the wind changed and the snow swirled off in other directions. Hawthorne began to take his flashlight from his pocket, then left it where it was.

“It’s me,” said Hawthorne. As he got closer, he began to make out Bennett’s features. Bennett wasn’t wearing a hat and his long blond hair seemed to have turned white. “Do you have a cell phone at your house?” Both had to raise their voices over the wind.

Bennett was up to his knees in the snow. “Why do you want one? Have you seen Fritz? It’s important that I find him.”

“I just saw him in Emerson. He was on his way to the kitchen to see what LeBrun was doing about dinner. Anyway, the phones aren’t working and I need to make a call.” Then he made out the fear in the other man’s voice. “Is something the matter?” He took another step toward Bennett, only to realize that Bennett was backing away.

“What’s LeBrun doing?” Bennett’s words seemed scattered by the wind.

“He has to take food over to the students in Pierce. Do you have a cell phone in your apartment?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s broken. Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you’ve got to get out of here. LeBrun’s dangerous. He’s gone right around the bend. You don’t know what he’ll do.” Bennett spoke quickly, as if his fear were propelling the words from his mouth.

“I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to,” said Hawthorne. “The roads are blocked.”

“You’d be safer going into the woods,” said Bennett, his voice rising to a shout. “And me too. We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Did you get Frank LeBrun to wreck Clifford’s office? Did you pay him to do it?”

“You don’t know. It’s worse than that, worse than you can imagine. Listen to me, I’m doing you a favor. You’d be safer in the fucking forest!” Backing away, Bennett stumbled and fell. Then he got up and began running through the snow toward Douglas.

“Roger!” Hawthorne called. But Bennett kept trying to run. Hawthorne watched him fade into the swirling dark. He thought of how Jessica had gone to the kitchen looking for milk. He felt afraid, but whether it was for Jessica or himself he couldn’t tell.