Final Exam (22 page)

I decided to head back up to the dorm to find Amanda. I passed my car, and checked for boots, tickets, or any other notification that I was a blatant scofflaw but there was nothing. I hoped that was the case when I returned to the dorm at the end of the day because I had big plans and I needed my car.

I found Amanda on the girls’ floor; she was coming out of the bathroom, her hair wet, a towel wrapped around her body, her pink flip-flops on her feet.

“Professor Bergeron?” she said, surprised to see me on a residence floor at this hour.

“Is this a bad time?” I asked.

She smiled. “Kind of. Wait here.” She went into her room and left me in the hallway to peruse my surroundings. It wasn’t exactly a hotbed of activity, with every door closed and only the sound of a few showers running in the communal bathroom. She came out a few minutes later, this time in a St. Thomas sweatshirt, jeans, and the pink flip-flops. She asked me what I was doing on the floor.

When she asked me, it occurred to me I wasn’t sure how this was going to play out. I decided to go for it and just tell her my plan.

She was more receptive than I ever would have imagined.

And when I saw that—the excitement on her face mixed with anticipatory glee at maybe seeing Wayne—

I had a sinking feeling that perhaps my plan was just a wee bit ill-advised.

Thirty-Two

Amanda was as excited as I had been on my first stakeout. I played the Crawford role and told her to take it down a notch.

Amanda looked over at the Brookwells’ house. “I’m just excited to see Wayne,” she said.

“You may not see Wayne,” I said. “I just have a hunch that this is the only place he could have gone.”

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

I had to admit that I really didn’t know. “I thought we’d just sit here and wait to see if there was any sign of him.”

The afternoon sun turned to dusk and then night fell quickly, even though it was spring and we were getting the extra hour of daylight. I handed Amanda a PowerBar and a Gatorade and told her to eat; I knew that we could be sitting in Scarsdale for a long time, so I had packed some refreshments. I can’t think if I’m hungry and I wanted to be able to make split-second decisions should the situation call for it.

I had been deliberately vague with Crawford when he had called to say that he could come for dinner, but it would be closer to nine. I let him off the hook by saying that I had a lot of papers to correct and he had a lot of sleep to get. He was just tired enough not to protest and actually sounded relieved. I wasn’t happy about that, but I was glad that I wasn’t subjected to his usual third degree about where I was going, what I was doing, and why. As far as he was concerned, I was safely ensconced in my room, ratty old St. Thomas sweats on my tired body, eating Trader Joe almonds and correcting bad essays.

I ripped open a PowerBar with my teeth. “How did you meet Brandon?” I asked, taking a quick look over at the Brookwells’ house, every window ablaze with interior lights.

Amanda’s mouth was full of gooey PowerBar but that didn’t stop her from answering. “My stepdad. He introduced us.”

Just like I thought. “And love at first sight?” I asked, taking a swig from my cherry-flavored Gatorade.

“Not really,” she admitted. “I thought he was hot but I wasn’t sure we would get along at first.”

“How come?”

“He’s kind of old-fashioned.”

Which to me sounded like code for bossy and possessive but I kept that to myself. “But you got beyond that?”

“Sort of. He knows that I want to have a job after I graduate and he’s fine with that.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m a communications major, so what I do is basically up to who hires me,” she said ruefully. Having been an English lit major at St. Thomas, I knew what she was talking about. Had I not wanted to teach, I’m not sure what I would be doing right now.

We sat in silence for a few moments.

“Do you love him?” I asked, immediately regretting pushing the conversation when I saw Amanda turn and look out her window. Because I could see in the reflection that I had upset her.

“I guess so.”

Not a ringing endorsement for this union. I didn’t say anything else because, really, what could I contribute besides “run as fast as you can!”?

“Is Brandon involved in the family business?”

She shook her head. “Yes. He graduated last year and he’s doing more there now. The idea is that he takes over at some point and we’ll be set for life.”

“So, it’s a profitable business.”

She spoke softly. “It is now.”

“Which means?” I pushed.

She turned toward the window again. “I’ve said too much.”

I wondered what she meant, but I could tell I had gone too far and didn’t want to press any further. It seemed like Costas and Nicholas had the whole thing figured out. I chewed on that for a minute while staring at the Brookwells’ house.

“What is it that you see in Wayne, Amanda?” I left out the part where I wanted to tell her she deserved much, much better.

“He’s gentle. And kind.”

Probably because he’s stoned all the time. Stoner boyfriends are like that. Always pleasant, but not much in the ambition department. I had made that mistake once.

“He’s just a really cool guy. Different from Brandon. Less intense.” She smiled. “Sure, he’s got to figure a few things out but he’s really cool. And he’s very good to me.”

A really cool guy. Try building a marriage on that character attribute and you were doomed to fail.

“You do know that he’s the campus pot supplier?”

She looked at me and I could tell that she was in complete denial about that. “That’s not necessarily a fact.”

“Amanda, there are many clues that lead me to believe that it is a fact. Wayne may be cool but he’s involved in some less than wholesome things.” I tried to impress upon her, without saying it outright, that he was not as cool a guy as she thought he was. “You’ve got a great future ahead of you, Amanda. Sticking with Wayne may not be the best idea.”

By the set of her jaw, I could tell that she wasn’t on board with the idea of Wayne as the campus weed connection. We stayed silent, me not pushing it, and her considering what we had just talked about, I guessed. After a few minutes, she changed the subject.

“Professor Bergeron?”

I looked over at Amanda.

“Would you come to my wedding?” she asked. “It’s in August.”

“You’re going to get married?” I asked. “What about Wayne?”

“I have to get married. I could never be with Wayne forever. My stepfather made that clear. I have to give up Wayne.” Her eyes filled with tears behind her glasses.

I didn’t often agree with Costas and his ham-handed attempts at arranged marriage, but I was almost relieved to hear that the wedding would come off and she wouldn’t have to be stuck with slacker Wayne. I prayed that Costas knew something I didn’t and that the Amanda/Brandon match would be one eventually made in heaven.

I leaned over and gave her a quick hug even though I wasn’t really sure she should go forward with the wedding. “I would love to.”

“You can bring a date.”

“Wonderful,” I said, thinking that the last wedding Crawford and I had attended had been Fred and Max’s. And we all know how that turned out. I hoped I wasn’t some kind of wedding jinx.

I had one more thing I needed to know. “What’s your relationship with Costas like?”

“I adore him,” she said quickly and seemingly sincerely.

“Really?”

“Really. He’s been very good to me and my mother. My father died when I was seven so he’s been in my life a long time. It was his idea that I go to St. Thomas and it was the right thing for me.” She sighed. “He’s a very good man,” she said in a way that made it sound like she had heard that from someone else. Her mother, maybe?

I sank down in my seat and rested my knee against the dashboard. I noticed a car backing down the Brookwells’ driveway, its taillights twinkling in the black. It eased out onto the street, and I could see both Eben and Geraldine in the front seats, both staring straight ahead. They missed us entirely, so intent were they on looking out the windshield at the road in front of them.

I looked at Amanda. “Showtime.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that we’re going to go over there and see if Wayne is in the house.”

“I’ve already tried his cell phone like a thousand times, Professor Bergeron, and he’s not answering. If he was in Scarsdale, he would have let me know.”

Like he did before? I thought. And was she really this naïve? I put my hand on her arm. “Amanda, Wayne is on the run from the police department. Everyone in law enforcement in this area is looking for him and he’s hiding. I’m guessing that the safest place for him to be right now is his parents’ house, even though I’m sure the police went through it from top to bottom.” I looked over at the house again. “Where else might he have gone?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “This is as good a start as any.”

We waited a few minutes to make sure that the Brookwells had really left the area and then hurried across the street to the house. They had turned off most of the lights in the front of the house with the exception of the outdoor porch light, a light that was fancier and more ornate than the one in my dining room. I tried the front door, but it was locked. We went down the long driveway to the back of the house and saw that it, too, was black. Every light in the house was off. We stood on the patio, staring at the back of the house, me wondering if this was the worst idea I had ever had, and Amanda suddenly sobbing.

“I’ll never see him again.”

I didn’t want to disabuse her of that notion, because that would probably be a lie. She would see Wayne again, but not as a free man. I grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to talk some sense into her.

“Those drugs were Wayne’s, Amanda. So because of Wayne, you were beat up and left in my closet. That’s not a man that you want to see again,” I said, but realizing that I wasn’t really getting through to her. She was shaking her head back and forth, not wanting to hear me. I didn’t want to raise my voice to make sure she got the point, so I continued whispering. “He’s no catch, Amanda.” I wasn’t sure she was better off with Brandon, but if the choice was between him and Wayne, I knew where my vote was going to be cast. I took her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

We started down the driveway, making it only a few steps when we heard someone whispering Amanda’s name behind us. I turned just as she did, and saw the shadow of a tall, thin man standing at the edge of the property by the fence that separated the house from the one behind it. I’d recognize that slack-jawed pot dealer anywhere.

“Amanda!”

She started off down the driveway before I could stop her, throwing herself into Wayne’s arms and kissing him. Me, I wasn’t so excited to see him.

“Hey, Wayne!” I called. “Every cop in New York State is looking for you. What are you doing? Hiding in plain sight?”

Wayne got closer and I could see the sallow complexion and the bags under his eyes. “Funny,” he said. He threw a thumb over his shoulder to a very elaborately decorated shed, one that looked like a miniature house. In fact, it was nicer than my house. “I live there. My parents don’t even know that I’m here.”

I looked at the barn/shed, suitable for Snow White and her seven little people and looked at Wayne, six foot three if he was an inch, most of it made up of leg. “You live in there?” I asked incredulously. “What do you do for food? For bathroom needs?” I asked as daintily as possible. I didn’t really want to know . . . or yes, maybe I did.

“I wait until my parents leave in the morning and then I use the house. My father still works downtown and my mother substitute-teaches most days. I go in, shower, eat, and get what I need. They have no idea.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. I bet they did have an idea and they were keeping their mouths shut until they could come up with a better plan. Eben and Geraldine were lovely but they weren’t stupid. Anyone with half a brain could tell when someone else was eating their Cheerios.

“Weren’t the police swarming this place?” I asked.

“For a few hours,” he said, “but I hid.”

“You’re a regular MacGyver, Wayne,” I said, a bit awed.

“A what?”

“Forget it.” Just the most famous Canadian action hero this side of Montreal. Kids today. No respect. “You’ve got to turn yourself in, Wayne.”

He shook his head defiantly. “Not going to happen.”

I ticked off the details that I had. “First of all, we know about the pot. We found it. The police have it. Add that to the heroin and you’re looking at some serious time. Then, you ran away from a police officer and a state trooper, so that’s some kind of crime,” I said, nonspecifically. I’d fallen behind on my
Law & Order
watching and couldn’t remember what violation category that fell under. Resisting arrest, perhaps? “Third, because of your nefarious activities, this girl that you profess to love”—I threw my arm around Amanda protectively—“has been beaten and left stuffed in a closet.” I paused. “I don’t know what she sees in you, Wayne. You’re a real gem.”

Wayne stared at the two of us, his mouth agape. I thought that he knew about Amanda’s brush with the thugs already, so maybe he was stunned at my recitation of all his crimes and misdemeanors. When he recovered from the shock, he asked softly, “Are you okay?”

Amanda shrugged dismissively. “I’m okay.” It seemed like even though I had doled out the information that I had about Wayne in little snippets so as not to overwhelm her, Wayne was obviously losing his romantic luster for her.

“Come with us, Wayne,” I said. “Give yourself up. It will be better for you if you do.”

He turned and walked back toward the shed. “Not happening.”

I went after him and grabbed his arm. “It’s happening. You can’t hang out here forever.” And then I went in for the kill. “And what if these thugs go after your parents? What then, Wayne?”

I felt him go tense. “Don’t say that.”

“They took your girlfriend, beat her, and stuffed her in my closet, where she could have suffocated. Suffocated, Wayne. As in died.” He slumped a bit and I could tell I was getting to him. “Why did they come after her, Wayne? Do you owe them money for the heroin?” That’s the part that I couldn’t figure out.

“That wasn’t my heroin!” he protested again.

I switched tack. “What about your parents? What if they come after them? Do they deserve this?”

“This is not all my fault!” he cried. “That wasn’t my heroin. I don’t do that stuff. I don’t sell it. I’m just trying to make a living and get out of St. Thomas once and for all.” He wiped a shaky hand across his face. “How would you feel if you were me and living in a dorm with a bunch of rich kids with nothing better to do than party and get high?”

I didn’t want to remind him that I taught those same kids and that not all of them were rich and/or constantly stoned.

“I’m twenty-six. I should have a life by now.”

“And why don’t you, Wayne? Why are you driving a car leased to your mother and doing a job that your aunt got for you? Why aren’t you on your own?” I turned and looked at Amanda, who looked as if she were hearing a lot of this stuff for the first time. She didn’t appear happy. What she appeared was disappointed.

He continued walking toward the shed. “Leave me alone.”

I let him go, watching him head back to the shed. I sneaked a look at a very depressed-looking Amanda, who was staring up into the black sky, lost in thought. It was very quiet because the thing about rich neighborhoods like this is that they usually are, cars traversing their streets only if necessary. Because of the dead quiet, the sound of the footsteps advancing on me from behind, fast and determined, sounded much louder than they should have.