Where were you when he needed you before all this happened?”
“He’s your best chance of getting back your brother without him getting hurt,” Rachel said, nodding toward me.
“What did he need help with?” I asked.
The doors at the end of the hallway opened and a tall, thin black man in a light blue sports shirt with his name and GCSC stitched on it came in. He held a bottle of cleaning solution in one hand and a rag in the other.
“I’m not going to do this here,” she whispered.
The man entered the classroom closest to us and turned on the lights, leaving the door open behind him.
“Has he contacted you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’m not saying anything else. I’m going back into my classroom and if you interrupt me again I’ll call campus security and have you removed.”
I knew there was no way a campus this size had security, but when she turned and walked into her classroom I didn’t try to stop her.
“That went well,” Rachel said.
I shrugged. “About as well as I expected. Come on.”
“Where we going now?”
“Across the campus to talk to her mother.”
Chapter Twenty-four
U nlike Tracy Jensen, her mother, Wanda, was warm and friendly. We found her cleaning the large classroom used by the nursing program. In addition to the usual tables, chairs, and podium, it had built-in cabinets and drawers for supplies, a sink, and room on the side for two hospital beds. Simulating a hospital room, the beds were separated by a curtain and held resuscitation dummies hooked to empty IVs.
Like the tall, thin African-American man from the other building, Wanda wore a light blue sports shirt with GCSC and her name embroidered on it. The shirt was untucked, its tail resting on the navy blue jogging bottoms covering her large backside and thighs. She was on her hands and knees scraping something off the floor when we walked in.
When she glanced back at us she smiled, and stood, which took a while and required the use of a nearby table and chair.
“Lot easier to get down,” she said.
I thought about the book on the fabric of the universe I had been listening to, and how it had described gravity as warps and wrinkles in space-time like a wooden floor with water damage.
“Gravity gets the best of all of us,” I said.
“Yeah but some of us have more mass than others,” she said. “Still, drop me and my anorexic daughter off the Empire State Building, we’d hit the ground at the same time.”
I must have looked a little surprised, because she smiled and said, “I’m reading a book on the fabric of the cosmos to my husband. He’s legally blind but loves books like that, so he’s giving me an education.”
“I’m reading the same book,” I said. “Well, listening to it.”
“Do you understand it?” she asked.
“Only some,” I said.
She smiled. “I know. Used to think I was somewhat smart until I started reading all this bucket stuff.”
I smiled. I loved being surprised. It was refreshing.
“Bucket?” Rachel asked.
“Something about if there were nothing in the universe—no planets, stars, or people—would the contents of a spinning bucket feel any effects.”
Rachel looked confused.
“Is the universe a something or a nothing,” I explained.
Wanda smiled.
“If you take all the letters out of the alphabet,” I said, “would there still be an alphabet?”
Rachel shook her head.
“Once you get it all figured out,” I said to Wanda, “you can explain it to me. I’m John Jordan, by the way. I’m—”
“I know. Your daddy’s the sheriff of Potter County and you’re the chaplain at the prison.”
I nodded. “This is Rachel Mills from FDLE. We’re trying to find Michael.”
She shook her head and I thought she was about to shut down, but she said, “I don’t know what that boy was thinking. Just about to get out and he does a damn fool thing like that.”
“There had to be a good reason,” I said. “Any idea what it might be?”
She shook
“He’s your best chance of getting back your brother without him getting hurt,” Rachel said, nodding toward me.
“What did he need help with?” I asked.
The doors at the end of the hallway opened and a tall, thin black man in a light blue sports shirt with his name and GCSC stitched on it came in. He held a bottle of cleaning solution in one hand and a rag in the other.
“I’m not going to do this here,” she whispered.
The man entered the classroom closest to us and turned on the lights, leaving the door open behind him.
“Has he contacted you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’m not saying anything else. I’m going back into my classroom and if you interrupt me again I’ll call campus security and have you removed.”
I knew there was no way a campus this size had security, but when she turned and walked into her classroom I didn’t try to stop her.
“That went well,” Rachel said.
I shrugged. “About as well as I expected. Come on.”
“Where we going now?”
“Across the campus to talk to her mother.”
Chapter Twenty-four
U nlike Tracy Jensen, her mother, Wanda, was warm and friendly. We found her cleaning the large classroom used by the nursing program. In addition to the usual tables, chairs, and podium, it had built-in cabinets and drawers for supplies, a sink, and room on the side for two hospital beds. Simulating a hospital room, the beds were separated by a curtain and held resuscitation dummies hooked to empty IVs.
Like the tall, thin African-American man from the other building, Wanda wore a light blue sports shirt with GCSC and her name embroidered on it. The shirt was untucked, its tail resting on the navy blue jogging bottoms covering her large backside and thighs. She was on her hands and knees scraping something off the floor when we walked in.
When she glanced back at us she smiled, and stood, which took a while and required the use of a nearby table and chair.
“Lot easier to get down,” she said.
I thought about the book on the fabric of the universe I had been listening to, and how it had described gravity as warps and wrinkles in space-time like a wooden floor with water damage.
“Gravity gets the best of all of us,” I said.
“Yeah but some of us have more mass than others,” she said. “Still, drop me and my anorexic daughter off the Empire State Building, we’d hit the ground at the same time.”
I must have looked a little surprised, because she smiled and said, “I’m reading a book on the fabric of the cosmos to my husband. He’s legally blind but loves books like that, so he’s giving me an education.”
“I’m reading the same book,” I said. “Well, listening to it.”
“Do you understand it?” she asked.
“Only some,” I said.
She smiled. “I know. Used to think I was somewhat smart until I started reading all this bucket stuff.”
I smiled. I loved being surprised. It was refreshing.
“Bucket?” Rachel asked.
“Something about if there were nothing in the universe—no planets, stars, or people—would the contents of a spinning bucket feel any effects.”
Rachel looked confused.
“Is the universe a something or a nothing,” I explained.
Wanda smiled.
“If you take all the letters out of the alphabet,” I said, “would there still be an alphabet?”
Rachel shook her head.
“Once you get it all figured out,” I said to Wanda, “you can explain it to me. I’m John Jordan, by the way. I’m—”
“I know. Your daddy’s the sheriff of Potter County and you’re the chaplain at the prison.”
I nodded. “This is Rachel Mills from FDLE. We’re trying to find Michael.”
She shook her head and I thought she was about to shut down, but she said, “I don’t know what that boy was thinking. Just about to get out and he does a damn fool thing like that.”
“There had to be a good reason,” I said. “Any idea what it might be?”
She shook
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