“I read that article in the paper,” he said. “I tried to come by yesterday to talk to you, but couldn’t make it.”
“You came by here?” Janet asked. “To campus?”
The man didn’t answer.
“Did you come to my house? Last night in the dark? Were you there?”
“I’m here to talk to you now,” he said.
“Are you here to tell me what I want to know?” Janet asked. “What do you know about Justin’s death?”
The man looked around a little, as though he thought someone might be listening. “Can we talk somewhere?”
“We can talk here,” Janet said. “Now tell me what you know, or I’ll call the police on you. If you think you can come by my house-”
“I just want to sit down somewhere and talk.” He looked behind him. About fifty feet away sat a shaded bench, a donation in the name of some long-dead alum. “Can we sit over there?” he asked. “For just a few minutes.”
Janet looked over at Wilson Hall, to the first-floor windows where the dean’s office was housed. She saw Madeline looking out, not even pretending to be subtle. Janet gave a little wave to her, trying to let her know that, at least for the moment, everything was okay.
But was it?
She didn’t see the harm in staying close. And she knew Madeline was on alert.
“Let’s go,” Janet said. “But I don’t have a lot of time. I’m at work.”
They walked to the bench. Janet looked around before she sat, making sure of her surroundings. She didn’t see anyone else nearby. She took that as a good sign. She felt better thinking the man was alone and not accompanied by others.
They settled on opposite ends of the bench, and Janet studied his face, matching to the memory she carried from that one night on the porch. Her recollections seemed surprisingly accurate. The man did carry the features she remembered, the ones that she associated with Justin. The shape of his eyes-round like her father’s. And like hers. The chin that came to a sharp point-kind of but not exactly like her mother’s. Janet studied his features so long it took her several moments to realize how rapidly her heart was beating. She wiped a drop of sweat off her forehead with a shaking hand.
“Do you need something to eat?” Janet asked. “Do you need help?”
He smiled a little. It made him look young, almost childish.
“Why would you think I needed something to eat, or help?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Janet said. “I don’t know where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing. You might be in trouble.”
“Do you remember me, Janet?” he asked.
“I’m trying to figure that out.” She tried to keep her voice level. “Who are you?”
“I lived here in Dove Point when I was a kid. I have to admit I didn’t really like it very much.”
“You didn’t like Dove Point?”
“I guess I didn’t like being a kid,” he said. The man smiled a little, but it looked forced, like some pressure existed behind his lips he was trying to hold in. “People control us when we’re kids. They hold us back. They do things to keep us in line.”
“I wish you’d tell me what you know about Justin.”
The man looked at Janet, considered her. “I didn’t always meet people who had my best interests in mind when I was a child. It wasn’t easy at all.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My mother died. My father didn’t care.”
“I’m sorry. My mother died, too.”
“Yes,” he said. “I saw that in the article. That must have happened after I left town.” He looked around again. His lips were dry and cracked. They looked painful to Janet. “I thought that was…particularly sad.”
“Why?”
“Mothers.” He shrugged. “Are you and your daughter close, Janet?”
Janet squirmed in her seat. “I’d prefer you didn’t ask or talk about her.”
The man shrugged again. “The newspaper mentioned her. It must be difficult-”
“You need to tell me what you came to tell me, or I’m going to leave. I might leave anyway, but I’ll leave even sooner if you don’t start telling me about Justin. You said you knew something.”
“I do. But I have to tell you something about me first.”
“Why? What’s the connection between you and Justin?”
He held up a finger, asking for patience.
Janet wanted to bolt. She shifted her feet. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t walk away from him. Janet told herself she needed to let go of the notion that this man was Justin-but she couldn’t. His face, the similarities…the hints he dropped in conversation…There was something there.
“We’re a lot alike, Janet. You and I. We share certain experiences from our childhoods. We’ve both lost things. Precious things. Pieces of our families and of ourselves.”
“Because we both lost our mothers? What does this have to do with-?”
“You lost a member of your family,” the man said. “He was taken away.”
“What do you know about that?”
“I was taken away from my family,” he said.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I was taken away from them,” he said. “Taken.”
“Kidnapped?” Janet’s control slipped. She moved closer to the man. “Who took you? You mean in the park?”
“I’ve seen you, Janet. Your house, your family.”
“You have been to my house-?”
“I never had that. A home like that one.”
“Why didn’t you? Do you mean the house I live in? Is that what you’re talking about? Tell me.”
She reached out and took his hand. Squeezed it inside her own. The man didn’t return the squeeze, but he didn’t back away or seem put off. He left his hand in hers for long moments, their flesh touching.
Janet couldn’t stop herself.
“Justin?” she said. “Is it you? Justin?”
The man’s eyes widened. He did pull back. His hand slipped out of Janet’s as he stood up.
“Not yet,” he said. “Not yet.”
“Now,” Janet said. “Tell me what you know. We’ve been waiting a long time.”
But the man was backing away from the bench, his pace increasing with every step. He turned and started jogging away, across the quad.
Janet didn’t think. She simply acted.
She kicked off her shoes and started after the man, running through the dry grass. She thought she’d never catch him, but he didn’t seem to be running all out. She closed the gap between them quickly, reaching out her hand until she took hold of his shirt.
Did he want to be caught?
He stopped running, and Janet stopped next to him. She was out of breath from the short, intense burst across the quad. She hadn’t done anything like that in years. It felt like being a kid again. Running, chasing, tagging-
Janet looked the man right in the eye, worked up the ability to speak.
She managed to get a fractured, breathless sentence out.
“Tell me what you know,” she said.
“We need to be closer before I can tell you,” he said. “We need to know each other better.”
“Bullshit. You’re a liar, and I’m calling the police. My friend is probably calling the police right now. She
