They were wide and did little to conceal the terror behind them. At least she had avoided crying. Her eyeliner was meticulously in place. For a moment, she wanted to batter her fists against the mirror and shake the façade she lived behind.
“What the heck were you thinking,” she asked her reflection. “Just what are you going to do now?”
In full truth, she had no idea how to track down a missing witness. She could call him again or even go so far as to knock on his door, but if Theophilus Abernathy didn’t want to be found, she hadn’t the faintest clue how to find him. Nothing in her paperwork alluded to any places he might frequent.
She might as well set off wandering the streets and calling his name as if he were a lost dog. The impossibility of it swarmed over her, and she braced her hands against the sink again. Not in anticipation of retching, but to keep herself from buckling onto the floor.
Get it together, Aurora. This isn’t you. You’re so much better than this.
But was that true? It had to be. Reaching inside herself, she found just enough steel to pull herself upright again. Another quick dab of wet paper towels, and she stepped back into the hallway to start for the doors to the outside world.
If there was one place she was certain not to find Theophilus Abernathy, it was the ladies’ room of the Othercross Judiciary. Simply getting out of there was already a step in the right direction.
Eleven
A bit of fresh air did her good. Really, just about anything would have, so long as it wasn’t walking back into the office and all those expectant, spiteful faces.
Well, you know what? I’m not going to let this beat me. I’ve got this.
With that, she squared her shoulders and headed for the place she always went when she felt at a loss. The place where she knew she could find answers, even if they weren’t directly to the questions she was asking. And, if nothing else, she could squirrel herself away until she got her confidence back in line.
The Othercross Public Library.
Walking with brisk, tight strides, Aurora did what she could to offer her face up to the sun. A little vitamin D might be just the thing. Besides, if she kept her eyes on the pavement like her heavy heart wanted her to, she might just pass Mr. Abernathy on the street and miss him! No, the only way to make herself feel better was to act better.
As soon as the tall, leaded windows came into view, she really did breathe a bit easier. The library was a long-time refuge, and the mere sight of it helped still the waters. But once inside, she was all business.
Flicking through the antique card catalogue, she racked her brain to think of as many different ways as she could to find books on missing people. If she was half as adept at actually looking for Mr. Abernathy as she had been at ferreting out books, he’d have been hers in the twinkling of an eye.
Jotting down a list of numbers on a bit of scrap paper, she was grateful none of this massive collection had been digitized. To have printed out her list on a rumbling printer would have been sacrilege in a place as patinaed with age as this marvelous library. Besides, she liked the old-fashioned way of doing things.
Without the pejorative that often accompanied the expression, Aurora was proud to consider herself “an old-fashioned girl.”
Well up on the second floor she found a table and thumped down a substantial armful of books. Some were on tactics for tracking from the pioneer days, and others were dry-looking modern textbooks for criminal justice classes. One salacious-looking small-press volume was even aimed directly at people who got their private eye licenses from correspondence courses.
It was all grist to her very voracious mill. Sure, it might not actually be pounding the pavement in search of her missing witness, but she assured herself the time was well-spent. Just the feel of paper at her fingertips buoyed her emotions.
“Well, well, well.”
She started and turned, only to find an immaculately coiffed ghost lingering at the edge of the stacks.
“Looks like somebody feels humbled.”
“What makes you say that, Alistair?” He shrugged in his purple velvet smoking jacket and wafted over to her.
“Oh, darling. Sometimes I feel like I only see you when you’re feeling low. But then, that’s why most people come here.”
“Then why are you here?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. He raised his in return.
“Touché.” He lounged next to her, seemingly intent on keeping her from the studying she had come to accomplish. “In truth, I needed a wee bit of quiet. Last night, I haunted the light concert hall. The men’s chorus was rehearsing their program for the building’s tricentennial, and it was a late night, I can tell you.”
Aurora chuckled in spite of herself. Somehow Alastair Flayme had a way of making everything sound salacious. As much of a pain as he could be, a little diversion felt like just the balm she needed.
“So,” she asked, “how was the program?”
“Ghastly,” he shuddered. “They don’t write songs like they used to. The men’s chorus doesn’t sing like they used to, for that matter. But then,” he sighed, “the singing wasn’t really why I stopped by.”
She leaned back in her chair, and he took a quiet moment to survey the books she’d collected. With a theatrical grimace, he cast a jaundiced eye toward her.
“Cheerful subject. Looking for someone?”
“Wow, brilliant deduction. Are you sure you shouldn’t be an investigator?”
He turned a shoulder toward her and raised his eyebrows. “I’ve seen your offices, darling. Too dreary for me.”
“You got that right,” she muttered.
“Speaking of dreary, I’m going to bring up an old subject.” His eyes twinkled, but her stomach pitted at what she knew was coming. “What do you think the chances are? I’d love to be warm and moving again.”
“I’ve told you before, you’ve got much more freedom to move now than you would if you had your body again.”
“But not in the ways I want.”
Aurora tucked a hand over her mouth, and he looked away, pretending not to see her smile.
“It wouldn’t work anyway. Your bones turned to dust long before my grandfather was even born, so there’s not much for me to reanimate, I’m afraid.”
He gasped, clutching at his cravat in over-the-top offense. “Are you calling me old? Well, I never.” He stood up grandly and sniffed, the picture of wounded pride.
“Whatever. I’m just saying you’ve got so much more room to roam this way. If you were stuck in a plane of existence that didn’t give you so much freedom, maybe we could talk, but you have it pretty good right now.”
At this, Alastair rested his elbows on the table in front of her, his chin on the back of his fingers as he batted his eyes at her. “I can always find a wardrobe to sequester myself in, if that would convince you.”
Aurora rolled her eyes. “Even if I wanted to, I probably wouldn’t be much help. As worldly as you are, I’m sure you know I’ve never had any luck raising humans. I’d probably have to call in one of my brothers to finish the job.” The admission tugged her back toward a mild sulk.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’ve seen your brothers. And attractive as they are—and believe me, they are—I’ll tell you a secret.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “They don’t have a fraction of the power you do.”