Andrew Klavan - Empire of Lies

It was. Anne knew Serena, Serena may have known Casey, Casey attacked Rashid, Rashid lectured to Anne. When I saw Anne there in the hall, I thought it might've been just a coincidence-or there might've been more of a link between them.

"Yeah," I said. "Why?"

"And you really did come here to hear Rashid lecture."

"Yeah. Like I said."

She made a sweet little pouting frown. "I'm disappointed. I thought you were stalking me."

I laughed, looked away, bashful with her. "You know, you oughta stop saying things like that, Anne."

"Why?"

"Because I might take them seriously."

"And that's bad because…?"

I rolled my eyes. "Never mind. Here, take these back before I get a hernia." I piled her books back into her arms. "Thank God. That's the last time I offer to do that. I must've been out of my mind."

She smiled at my kidding, but she was thinking about something else-I could see it going on behind her eyes. Then she said, "Well, here, anyway." She wrestled her binder to the top of the book pile. Opened it. Took a girly purple pen out of an opaque plastic case inside. She scribbled something on a notebook page quickly, tore out the corner, and handed it to me. "Take this."

I took it. "What is it?"

"Duh, stupid. It's my phone number. And my address."

I laughed once, excited, unnerved. "Anne…"

"And, y'know, you're making me work much too hard at this, Mr. Jason-man. Most guys have to ask for those."

"I'm sure they do." I held up the wedge of paper as if to give it back to her. "And believe me, I would've. But what am I gonna do with it?"

She made a face at me, openmouthed, a mocking show of dumb surprise. I waggled my left hand, my ring finger in answer.

"Married. Remember?"

"Oh, right, I forgot," she said-and she wrinkled her nose, as if I'd reminded her of some mild impediment between us, like a cold I didn't want her to catch. "But I mean, you can't be faithful all the time, right?"

She said this with a little smile and a naughty jog of her eyebrows, so cute and fun about the whole thing. I felt like the oldest of old fuddy-duddies for even entertaining the hoary notion that the ideas of faithful and all the time might somehow go together. It was like talking to a creature from another planet-the planet Youth. Everything about her made me feel like my own grandfather.

I gave her a look-disapproving, ironic, complicit… Oh, I don't know what kind of look it was. I let the subject drop. And I let the hand holding the piece of paper drop. And the other hand, too, the one with the wedding band on it.

"Listen, goofy girl, let me ask you one more thing."

"Okay"-pointing her thumb over her shoulder at the building behind her-"then I really gotta go."

"Did Casey ever come to The Den?"

"Yeah, sure. Everybody goes to The Den. It's kind of like the unofficial school hangout."

"Right. And you remember the girl I came in there to find the other night?"

"Sure. Oh-is that what this is about?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is. Did you ever see that girl-Serena-did you ever see her and Casey together?"

"Ummmmm," she said, screwing her lips up, squinting up into the trees. Then she remembered: "Oh, yeah. One night. I remember. They danced together."

"How long ago?"

"A month. Six weeks. I don't know."

"About the time he disappeared?"

"Maybe. I can't remember. Like I said, I didn't know him all that well. I just remember she came in looking for him. She asked me to point him out to her, and then she went up to him and they started dancing."

It took a moment for this to register, for the implications to register. "I'm sorry. Say that again."

"She came in one night… She came up to me at the bar. You know, just like you did. She was, like, 'You know Casey Diggs, right?' And I was, like, 'Yeah, sure.' And she was, like, 'When he comes in, point him out to me.' Just like you did with her."

"She was looking for him," I said, my voice dull and soft suddenly, a distant monotone. "She knew his name."

"Yeah. She'd been wanting to meet him."

"How do you know that?"

"I have this friend-Jamal. He told me she'd be coming in. He told me she wanted to meet Casey Diggs, and I should watch out for him for her."

"You know Jamal?"

"Yeah, we had, like, a one-night thing once, but we're still friends. He's the one who got me to take this class. Look, I really gotta go."

"Wait. Did you tell any of this to the police?"

Anne gave a kind of comical start of surprise. "That some girl was looking for some guy in The Den?"

"They never asked you about it?"

"It's not exactly a big whoop, Jason. She just went up to him when I pointed him out and, you know, they danced. It was, like: whatever."

"Did they leave together?"

"Beats me. I didn't notice."

I was quiet, lost in the thought of it, the idea of it, what it meant.

"I really gotta…" She pointed a thumb at the building again.

Then, completely unexpectedly, she darted forward and kissed me gently. It was startling-startling and intense. A moment with her soft lips on mine, her black hair tickling my skin, and that sweet, flower perfume she wore, like a teenage girl's.

"I like you," she whispered, her breath warm on my mouth. "Call me."

As she drew back, I caught a flash of something-something glittering in the opening at the neck of her blouse. A chain with a familiar sterling silver ring at the end of it about a quarter of an inch thick.

Then, dazed and stupid, I stood watching her as she walked away. My eyes were on her retreating figure, the seat of her jeans, the toss of her hair. My mind was racing, trying to sort out too many different things at once.

Anne joined the other students going through the door of the stately building, and she was gone. But I kept standing there, full of her. Thinking about that flashing ring on her necklace. About her whisper: I like you. Call me. About the touch of her lips.

Finally I turned away. I had to force myself to do it, pivoting around quickly. The movement must've taken the man across the lawn by surprise because I caught him there, watching me. He was young, dark-skinned. He had hooded eyes and a mouth that turned down on one side. He was staring at me balefully from the shadows of a broad oak tree on the grass about twenty yards away.

I barely had time to notice him before he wasn't there anymore. He was hurrying down a path-slipping between two buildings-out of sight-gone.

It was night, I don't know how late. I'd been in the television room for hours. I'd been through one bottle of wine already and was halfway through another. I slumped nearly horizontal on the sofa, the remote control held loosely in my hand. I was somewhere into the deep cable numbers. There was a soft-core porno movie playing on the immense screen across the room. It told the stirring story of a woman who took her clothes off and straddled a naked man while moaning loudly. You just can't delve more deeply into the human condition than that.

I watched the action through half-lidded eyes. The naked woman bounced up and down on the naked man. Her head was thrown back. Her mouth was open. A sheen of sweat glowed on her face. "Oh, oh, oh, oh!" she said, her fine breasts jiggling.

I had paused here while channel surfing. I thought it would help me stop thinking, stop worrying about what I should do next. At first, it delivered a tranquilizing thrill. Now boredom, like an anesthetic, stunned me. My mind drifted. I thought about Serena again. About Casey Diggs. Rashid. Words, words, words, I thought, drunkenly. Lies, lies, lies.

What was I supposed to believe? Was anything Serena told me true? Had she known Casey Diggs? Had she gone into The Den looking for him that night? Was she working with the people who'd killed him? But if she was, why would she confess to me like that? Or if she was some unwilling dupe, why run away with them in their green Cadillac? Should I call the police? Would that get Serena killed? Or was her whole story about the murder another lie? Or maybe it was Anne who lied. Maybe it was Anne…