The Sixes

based on a lie. The police may not have all the answers.”

“I’m sorry I spoke to you like that,” he said, sighing. “I’m just concerned about you.”

She accepted his apology and began clearing the breakfast dishes. The next few moments were awkward and clunky. She could sense his mind churning and his mood darkening. But when he said good-bye a few minutes later, he seemed more like himself again.

“Why don’t we go out to dinner tonight?” he said. “I’ve got a little cabin fever these days, and I’m sure you must too.”

She agreed, and he kissed her good-bye. She locked the door behind him and peered out the window. As she watched him trip down her front steps, it was hard not to notice the sullen slump in his shoulders. She didn’t like what had just happened.

Phoebe checked the time. She had a few hours until Hutch’s nephew was due to arrive, and she intended to use the time to track down Stockton. She wanted to ask him about the committee and see what vibe she picked up from his answer. She called his office and was told he had back-to-back meetings this morning.

“It’s fairly urgent,” Phoebe said after identifying herself. “Can you tell me where he’ll be at around ten?”

“Well, I’m not sure if—” And then, as if sensing she sounded silly withholding the information, the assistant volunteered that Stockton was presently at a meeting in the basement conference room of the library.

This time Phoebe walked the short distance to campus. The skies had cleared, but it was in the forties, with a stiff wind that made the flags on campus snap so hard they sounded as if they would tear in half. Students were bundled up today, some even in parkas. Since she was only able to drape her coat over her shoulders, Phoebe was shivering by the time she reached the library.

The woman at the library’s front desk said she had no idea where Stockton’s meeting was being held, but that there were several meeting rooms in the basement. Phoebe nearly flew down the stairs, worried about missing him. At this hour the basement level was nearly deserted, and as she searched along the corridors, she passed empty stacks, study carrels, and the glass-walled area that housed a collection of Revolutionary War–era letters, donated by an alumnus years ago.

Finally she heard a murmur of voices just ahead, and the echo of footsteps on the concrete floor. Two women turned a corner onto the corridor Phoebe was walking down.

“Good morning,” Phoebe said. “You haven’t seen Dean Stockton, have you?”

“We’ve just come from a meeting with him, actually,” one said. “Make a left, and you’ll find him farther down on the right.”

Stockton was where they said he would be, slipping papers into a soft leather briefcase in the conference room. His camel topcoat and tartan scarf were still draped over one of the chairs. He turned at the sound of Phoebe entering the room.

“Well, well,” he said, clearly surprised. “You’re not someone I expected to see in the bowels of the library.”

Phoebe smiled sweetly. She needed to keep this light, though she felt her heart skip a beat.

“I hope that’s a compliment, Tom.”

“Of course. Are you on the mend, by the way?”

“Yes, thanks for asking.”

“I suspect it must be a bit like horseback riding. You’ll want to get on again before it becomes too frightening of a prospect.”

“I’m not following,” Phoebe said, wondering what mind game he might be playing.

“Your bike. I heard you took a nasty spill.”

“Oh . . . right.”

“Now tell me what I can do for you,” Stockton said. “Unless you’re actually down here to read about hardships endured during the Revolution.”

“I just have a quick question. I’m still trying to dig up information on the Sixes. They—”

“Why?” he asked, as he resumed stuffing his briefcase. “Aren’t the police handling that now?”

“I’m just wrapping up what I was doing—and of course I’ll inform the police of anything they need to know. Several days ago you mentioned that you’d organized a committee on quality of life on campus. Was Lily Mack on that committee?”

Stockton stopped his paper stuffing and looked up at her. “Why is that relevant?” he asked huffily.

“It’s just a loose end I want to tie up.”

“If you must ask, she was on it—but in name only. After the incident with the chairs, I invited her to join. She agreed, but never showed for any meetings.” He grabbed his coat and scarf. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting.”

Was he telling the truth? Phoebe wondered as he strode from the room like someone headed to a world economic summit. It would explain why Jen hadn’t mentioned Lily being on the committee. Of course, even if Lily hadn’t attended any of the meetings, she’d been invited by Stockton to join. Jen may have simply been confused about how the two of them met. Or maybe Stockton hadn’t been her love interest after all.

Phoebe made her way back along the corridor. She didn’t pass another soul, and the only sound was her footsteps on the cement floor. Where is everyone? she thought anxiously. She felt suddenly claustrophobic being all alone below ground. She turned a corner and realized she’d gone the wrong way. Just get me the hell out of here, she thought. She quickly retraced her steps, nearly at a jog. When she finally located the stairwell, she took the steps two at a time.

Once outside, standing under the library’s portico, Phoebe dug out her phone and tried Jen’s number. The girl answered in a groggy voice, as if she was still in bed.

“Did you find something out?” Jen murmured after Phoebe identified herself.

“Not yet, but I have another question. You told me yesterday that Lily met the person she fell for on a committee this fall. But are you sure about that? Could she have met him under different circumstances?”

“Not this fall,” the girl said, more coherently this time. “The committee was this past spring. That’s when she met him. But she didn’t really get the hots for him until this term—when she chose him for the fifth circle.”

So then it wasn’t Stockton. Phoebe signed off and immediately called Glenda’s office. The assistant told her Dr. Johns was in meetings the entire morning.

“Is it possible for you to get a message to her?” Phoebe nearly pleaded. “Could you tell her I need some additional information. I need to know the committee Lily Mack was on during the spring term.”

“I may be able to help you this time. I asked Dr. Johns how to access that information if I ever needed to find it again. Give me a moment, please.”

Phoebe waited, watching as students began to surface on campus, like creatures emerging from their burrows after a storm.

“Okay, I’ve found it,” the assistant said. “She was on a committee on animal testing.”

“Who else was on it?” Phoebe asked quickly.

“Six, er, seven other students.”

“But what faculty member?”

“Oh, let’s see. Okay, here we go. It was Dr. Duncan Shaw.”

29

IT FELT AS if someone had shoved Phoebe from behind full force, knocking the wind out of her.

“Um, okay,” she said. “Anyone else? I mean, any other faculty on the committee?” Maybe Duncan hadn’t