Fade (15 page)

serving a few drinks to minors. We can always get him next time for that.

Like I said, use your intuition and judgment.”

“I will.”

“Cabel. Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Get on out of here, then. I"ll see you sometime in the next twentyfour hours, I expect. Damn, I hate this job.”

10:09 a.m.

Janie makes her crème-de-menthe bars and puts them in the refrigerator,

and then makes lunch. Cabel stops by and mopes around uselessly,

unable to talk about anything. Janie finally sends him away.

“Be careful, baby,” he says, kissing the top of her head. Janie"s quiet.

And he"s gone.

2:32 p.m.

Janie lights her relaxation votive candle and sits still on her bed, clearing

her mind, meditating. Preparing herself. She mentally runs through her

profile sheets. All the events that led up to today. And then her mind

strays to Stacey"s car dream. She goes through it, step by step. She

knows there"s a connection between the dream and Mr. Durbin, but

how? Did Mr. Durbin actually rape her? Janie thinks about Lauren.

Wishes she could have focused on the faces in her party dream, but they

were blurred beyond recognition. And if Lauren has nightmares about

the party, why doesn"t she have qualms or reservations or downright

contempt for the host? Why didn"t the anonymous caller follow up with

another call to Crimebusters Underground?

She dozes for an hour, asking herself to figure out the connection between the dreams and this party tonight.

Herself says no.

ı

When she wakes up, Janie takes a shower and puts on tight jeans and a

low-cut V-neck sweater. She adds a hint of makeup and ties her hair

back, low, in a ribbon, leaving a few wisps out to frame her face. She

grabs a snack and a glass of milk, making quick work of them, and

brushes her teeth. Puts on some lip gloss.

It"s showtime.

5:57 p.m.

“I"m pulling up to the house. I"ll see you after,” Janie says.

“If you get a chance to call me…safely…you know…” Cabel"s voice is

anxious.

“I will if I can. Love you, Cabe.”

“Love you, Janie. Be safe.”

ı

They hang up. It"s a warm night for early March, and the snow is gone,

leaving muddy yards, puddles, and potholes everywhere. Janie parks on

the street, double-checks her pockets, grabs her dessert, and takes a deep

breath, then strips off her coat and tosses it on the passenger seat next to

her. Never hurts to have an excuse to get out of the house. She bought a

pack of cigarettes earlier and leaves them in the coat pocket. Janie closes her eyes momentarily, gets into her character, and gets out

of her car. She sees the tail end of Baker"s “soccer-mom” minivan down

the street, and he flashes the brake lights at her. For some reason that

makes her feel tremendously more confident, and she smiles in his

direction, knowing he can see her with his high-powered binoculars.

Cobb is stationed on the next street, with a partial view of the back of

the house. She doesn"t look for Cabel, but she knows where he is—around the corner.

She slams her car door and walks up the driveway to Mr. Durbin"s front

steps, hoping Stacey shows up soon. She knocks and hears footsteps. Mr.

Durbin opens the door and ushers her in.

“Hey, Janie,” he says, letting her in and closing the door behind her.

“Looking good, Mr. Durbin,” Janie says with a grin, glancing around.

He"s rearranged the furniture, set up extra folding chairs, and added two

card tables to the great-room area.

“You too, Janie,” he says, looking her up and down. “You can call me

Dave outside of school, you know.”

She turns and gives him her full attention, and watches his eyes move to

her chest. “Dave,” she repeats. “I should probably keep this refrigerated,” she says, indicating her dessert. “Mind if I poke around

your kitchen so I know where to find things? I figure I can help you out

with the food and drink distribution once everybody gets here.”

“Be my guest,” he says. Not a hint of apprehension.
Strike one
, Janie thinks. He follows her and shows Janie where he keeps

extra dishes, glasses, silverware, and napkins.

“The fridge is packed pretty tightly,” he says, “but there"s room on the

bottom shelf, if you move a few beer bottles around.” He stands behind

her while she bends over and shoves her dessert inside. “You want a

beer or something? I"m making punch, too.”

“Are you having one?” she asks.

“Sure.”

On the fridge, holding—what else?—two snapshots of Mr. Durbin himself, is a magnet.
The
magnet, with the Fieldridge Crimebusters

hotline number. Janie"s heart pounds.
He screwed himself
, she realizes,

thinking of the blurred, anonymous person in the kitchen, making the

call.

Swiftly, Janie pulls out two bottles of beer and Durbin shows her where

the bottle opener is, when from the hallway comes none other than Mr.

Wang. He"s barefooted and his hair is wet.

“Mr. Wang,” Janie says, controlling her surprise. “I didn"t know you

were here.”

“Ms. Hannagan,” he says with a nod.

Mr. Durbin grins. “So formal, you two. Chris, Janie,” he says.

“Janie,

you want to grab a beer for Chris? I"ve got to get this punch going. Chris

came early to help me with the tables and chairs, and then we ended up

in a rather competitive game of one-on-one. Basketball,” he adds.

“I see. Well it"s very nice to see you, uh, Chris.” She winks and he looks

nervous.

“Likewise, Janie.”

Janie hands Mr. Wang a beer. He looks around the room to see what

needs to be done, and finally, rather helplessly, he goes to the stereo and

starts rummaging through the CDs. “I"ll take my usual spot as the DJ,”

he says.

The doorbell rings, and Stacey lets herself in with a shriek of

“Woo

hoo!” Janie raises her eyebrow.

“Hey, Stacey,” Janie says when Stacey brings her Crock-Pot to the

kitchen"s island.

“Janie!” Stacey smells like beer already. “Are you ready to party?”

Mr. Wang has Coldplay on now, and he cranks the volume. “Now I am,”

Janie says, holding up her beer. Wonders how wild the party has to get

before Mr. Wang moves to hip-hop.

She takes the paper cups and beverage napkins to the great room, where

Mr. Durbin is pouring a bottle of cranberry juice into a punch bowl that

already has a clear liquid in it. He adds a bottle of Ruby Red Squirt to

the mixture as Janie sets up the table display, and then he goes to the

sink to get an ice ring, and plops that in as well. Janie opens the package of napkins and lays them out in a spiral design.

“What goes on the other table?” she asks.

Mr. Durbin stirs the punch with a ladle. “I figured we"d put some munchies out there. You want to be in charge of keeping that going?”

He takes a cup and pours a little of the punch in it, tasting it, nodding

approval.

“Sure. I saw some stuff on the counter. I"ll get serving bowls and put

those things out here.”

“I have a little apron you can wear if you"d like,” he says under the noise

of the music, so only she hears it.

Janie raises her eyebrow and glances at him. He"s grinning. Stacey comes over to the punch table. “Is this the same stuff you made at

the last party, Dave? And if it is, I should probably test it, don"t you think?” She gives him an innocent look.

“Absolutely,” he says, pouring a glass for her.

Janie goes to the kitchen and begins to distribute the munchie items into

various-size bowls. When she takes them to the table, Mr. Wang is

downing some punch too. “How about it, Janie?” Mr. Durbin offers her

a glass.

“After my beer,” she says with a grin. “What"s in that stuff, anyway?”

“Just a little vodka. You can"t even taste it,” he says.

“But you can feel it.” Stacey giggles.

Mr. Wang is beginning to loosen up now, and by seven p.m., Mr. Durbin,

Mr. Wang, and Stacey are bantering comfortably.

Janie takes advantage of the moment to pour some of her beer into the

sink before the doorbell starts ringing. It doesn"t stop for the next hour.

She plays hostess.

8:17 p.m.

Everyone has arrived, and the party is beginning to pick up speed. Janie

works the kitchen, arranging the dishes as people bring them in. She

spreads the dining table with the appetizers, and at one point, uses the

excuse of looking for an extension cord to scout around the other rooms

in the house.

She"s in his office/den off the kitchen when Mr. Durbin finds her.

“Whatcha doin", hot stuff?”

She turns and grins, hiding her guilt from snooping. “I"m looking for an

extension cord, so we can keep all the appetizers warm. Do you have

one handy?”

He"s standing very close. “Downstairs,” he says. “Come on, I"ll show

you,” he says. His voice is sexy.

She licks her lips, looking into his eyes. “Show me the way,” she says,

pointing with her beer. Her heart thuds heavily at the thought of going

downstairs with Mr. Durbin.

The door to the basement is through the kitchen. It"s a finished basement,

with a full bar, big-screen TV, and two giant fluffy-looking couches.

Janie follows Mr. Durbin through a door into a workshop with a small

worktable. On it sits a Bunsen burner and several flasks and beakers. On

the shelves above it are a variety of chemicals. Janie strolls over to it and

rapidly checks them out. “Oh cool! I want a lab table in my house,”

she

whines.

He comes up behind her and puts his hand lightly on her waist. His

thumb rolls gently, back and forth on her side. She leans into him slightly as her eyes scan the shelves.

And then he"s taking her arm and pulling her with him. “I gotta go mingle,” he says. They climb the stairs, to where the music is loud again.

“Here"s the extension cord,” he says, handing it to her. “Come on, you

need to have some fun now. Get out of work mode and enjoy yourself.

It"s a party, for Chrissake.” He grins and pinches her ass. “Get some of

this punch, Janie,” he says, holding up his empty cup. “I promise you,

you"ll lighten up and have a great time.”

He sets his cup on the kitchen counter, and after Janie has the network of

plugs configured, so that nobody could possibly trip over all the cords,

she glances around, grabs the cup, and makes a beeline to the bathroom.

There"s a line. She doesn"t want to wait.

She slips down the hall, peers into a dark bedroom, and sneaks inside,

locking the door. Turns on the lamp on the dresser, and pulls a package

out of her pocket. She rips open the package, takes out a round paper

circle, and tips the near-empty cup, so a single drop pauses on the rim of

it and splashes on the paper.

She rubs it in and waits.

Thirty seconds, and it"s dry.

And nothing happens.

She takes a second paper circle and tries again. Still nothing.

“Hm,” she says. She crumples up the papers and shoves them into her

pocket, replaces the package to the other pocket, grabs the cup and her

beer, and goes back out to the party.

Janie tosses the cup in the trash and peeks inside quickly. Two empty

fifths of Absolut lay at the bottom of the trash bag. She closes the wastebasket and washes her hands. She can hear the students, louder

now, laughing and dancing.

9:45 p.m.

Janie"s bored. And dying of thirst. All the soda is in open two-liter bottles left unattended, and maybe she"s paranoid, but Janie doesn"t trust

the tap water because it has one of those filter things on it. She looks at

the warm, half-full bottle of beer in her hands. Knows it"s probably the

only safe thing in the house, since it hasn"t left her hands from the moment she opened it.

Many of the guys have gone downstairs to watch basketball, and a few

girls too. But most of the girls are swaying and laughing in the great

room, and Mr. Wang is entertaining them with his dance moves. Four

girls sit on the floor playing Texas hold "em. The food has hardly been

touched. Everybody has a beer or a cup of something in hand. Janie

stabs a meatball with a toothpick and nibbles at it. It"s delicious, but only

succeeds in making her even more thirsty.

And then Mr. Durbin emerges from the kitchen with a fresh bowl of

punch. He makes a general announcement, and half the girls gather

around, holding out cups. He generously ladles punch, and he pours one

for himself, and Mr. Wang too. Mr. Wang, sweating from dancing, downs his punch and lifts his cup to Janie, who sits on the couch making

small-talk with Desiree. Desiree is nicely half-drunk, not too slobbery,

and Janie has really learned to like her. She"s smart and funny. Mr. Wang pours a second cup of punch and brings it over to Janie. “For

you,” he says. His black eyes are shiny. He sits next to Janie and leans

back, closing his eyes.

“Long day, Chris?” Janie says when Desiree slips away to refill her

glass.

He opens a lazy eye. “Long and hard,” he says wickedly. Janie nods. “Thanks for sharing.” She holds the cup in her hand. Listening to the music. It"s the Black Eyed Peas. “Got any Mos Def?”

Janie asks.

“Mos" definitely,” Mr. Wang says, laughing at his own stupid joke. He

lunges unsteadily toward her. “Whoa,” he whispers, catching himself on