“Is that what you were talking about a few weeks ago? The thing you couldn’t do?”

“Yeah, professor, I needed your advice. I wanted to make you an accessory before, during, and after the fact. A little boost. You were no help at all. Hot air, all you shrinks are like that.”

“Where is she?”

“Forget the questions, professor. I can change my mind about you anytime—fucking dumb school in a fucking dumb place. Fucking snow. I got something I need to do and I’m not doing it. Sounds like a fuckin’ hillbilly song. Even if she was my little sister, I’d make myself do it. You can’t let stuff like that stand in your way. That’s how they finally get you.” LeBrun reached forward and flicked the ice pick stuck in the desk so it vibrated with a buzzing sound. “You should sympathize with my problem. Those shrinks when I was a kid were always talking about how I felt, what was going through my mind. I didn’t feel shit. I never felt shit. Like ice, that’s how I wanted to be. Ice feels nothing. It don’t even feel angry.”

“Where was this?” Again the lights dimmed. LeBrun didn’t answer until they came up again. Now the lights kept flickering.

“In Derry. It’s none of your fucking business where it was. Hey, Doc, give me a pill so I can stick the girl. Give me some medicine to commit devastation.” LeBrun laughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Hawthorne had no sense of what LeBrun would do next. He tried to quiet his fear so that he could think clearly. “Maybe you once knew somebody like Jessica.”

LeBrun cackled and slapped the desk, knocking over the beer. The bottle rolled to the edge of the desk and fell to the floor, spilling on the carpet. LeBrun reached down to a bag at his feet, pulled up another bottle, and twisted off the cap, which he tossed at Hawthorne. “There you go again, getting all shrinky on me. Maybe in my tender years a girl like Misty was sweet to me. I can see it now, just like in the fuckin’ movies—Misty and Me, staring Francis LaBrecque. Fuck you, asshole, I was never a nice guy. You know those vampire movies? I always wanted to be the bat. I wanted to fly down your chimney and stick my teeth in your throat. Suck you dry till there was nothing left. I like being the bad guy. You always know where you are and what you’re supposed to do. Fucking Skander thought he’d scare me. What a jerk. You ever been dicked, professor? You ever have a bunch of kids hold you down on the floor? Or old drunken farts who’re supposed to be taking care of you? Churchgoers, you hear what I’m saying? Either dick or get dicked is what it boils down to.”

“Where’s Fritz?”

“Fuck you, professor. I got one and a half problems. You’re the half problem—just a fucking smidgen of a problem. Misty’s the whole one.”

“Where is Jessica? I want you to give her back to me.”

LeBrun kicked his feet down to the floor. “Shut up, professor. Don’t make me mad.”

Hawthorne tried to keep himself still. He hated his fear—it brought back the bad times, the burning corridor, Meg’s awful screaming. But he had to make LeBrun stop, to jolt him out of his sense of power and control.

“Did you hold those pictures up at the window?” asked Hawthorne after a moment.

“That wasn’t me. You got to admit some of it was funny. The rotten food, I loved the rotten food. And the dead-wife stuff. Jesus, I laughed.” Again LeBrun grinned. He put his feet back onto the desk, then he linked his hands behind his head. “That was Bennett; he got some woman to call. He used to laugh all the time, then he got scared. But Fritz thought he could drive you nuts, that you’d go running back to California. I knew it wouldn’t work. So when you didn’t go nuts, Fritz cranked up the heat. Fuckin’ amateurs, they never know when to stop. Fritz figured he could make me jump.”

Hawthorne’s mouth felt like dry fabric. “Do you know when to stop, Frank? You look like an amateur to me. What have you done with Fritz?”

Immediately, LeBrun was on his feet, spilling the beer and knocking the phone from the desk. “I been nice to you, professor. I gave you the chance to go someplace safe and warm.” LeBrun reached toward the ice pick, which was still stuck in the desk, but he was so jittery that at first he missed it. Then he got it and yanked it free.

At that moment the lights began to dim. Hawthorne and LeBrun looked at the ceiling, watching the globe light turn from white to dull orange. Then it went out. The lights in the outer office and hall went out as well. Standing in the dark, Hawthorne and LeBrun were silent, waiting for the lights to come back on. But they didn’t.

“You there, professor?” asked LeBrun quietly.

Hawthorne began backing across the outer office. “I’m worried about you, Frank.”

LeBrun shouted, “You think you can fuckin’ play with me?”

By now Hawthorne was already out in the hall. “Hey, Frank,” he called. “I think you’re cracking.”

LeBrun began screaming, “You’re a dead man! You’re a dead man!” A chair was knocked over and something else slid across the floor and banged into the wall.

Hawthorne began to move off down the hall, trying to run silently in his boots. Now that he had challenged LeBrun’s sense of his own power, Hawthorne had to escape from the consequences.

“I hear you, professor,” shouted LeBrun, running after him. “You don’t know how bad I can hurt you.”

Now Hawthorne was running swiftly through the dark. Somewhere up ahead was the fire door leading to the stairs. Hawthorne could see nothing. He took the flashlight from his back pocket. He didn’t dare turn it on but perhaps he could use it as a weapon. It seemed that LeBrun’s heavy feet were only a few yards behind him.

Abruptly Hawthorne hit the door at the end of the hall. He fell back, holding his head. His glasses were knocked off. LeBrun crashed into him and they both tumbled against the fire door. Hawthorne freed the arm with the light. He grabbed the fabric of LeBrun’s jacket and pushed him back. LeBrun was growling like a dog. Then he stopped and laughed. He broke Hawthorne’s grip and they again fell against the door. Hawthorne swung the flashlight, clubbing LeBrun, once, twice. The flashlight slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. He shoved LeBrun away, then opened the fire door and ran up the stairs.

“You’re a dead man, professor!” shouted LeBrun up the stairwell.

Hawthorne paused at the second-floor landing. He heard LeBrun running up the stairs behind him. Opening the door to the second floor, Hawthorne hurried into the dark hall. Here the classroom doors were open and in each doorway the dark was a shade lighter. LeBrun slammed open the door behind him. Hawthorne ran into a classroom on his left, then began feeling along the wall to the back of the room. Many of the classrooms had closets in the rear and he hoped to hide there. Hawthorne found the closet door and gently pulled it open. He was terrified that LeBrun might hear him. Feeling around in the dark, Hawthorne discovered a mop and a pail, then a stack of books.

“Hey, professor, this is the part I like best,” LeBrun said in a stage whisper from out in the hall. “This is when we begin to have fun. I got my bat wings, professor, I got my fangs. I’m going to stick them in your throat, professor.” LeBrun paused to listen. Hawthorne could hear him breathing. “What about jokes, professor? I can make you laugh. We used to have some good laughs, didn’t we? You remember the clown joke? This taste funny to you? You listening, professor? You gotta be listening. You hear about the Canuck who picked his nose apart to see what made it run?” LeBrun chuckled, a hoarse sound deep in his throat. “You’re in one of these fuckin’ rooms, aren’t you? I can smell you. I can smell how scared you are. But I’m going to make you laugh, professor. I’m going to make you crack up. You know how you brainwash a Canuck? Come on, Doc, I’m waiting for the answer. You give him an enema. You fuckin’ ram it right up his asshole!” LeBrun laughed. His boots scraped on the floor as he moved along the hall. “You’re going to laugh too, professor, then I’m going to find you.”