Backtracker (47 page)

"
What about Fred
?
"
asked Dave.
"
Did Mr. Wyland know about this?
"

"
No,
"
replied Larry.
"
We didn
'
t tell him, because we knew he
'
d never go along with it. He
'
s too by
-
the
-
book.
"

"
What if he sees your file
?
"
asked Dave.
"
Won
'
t he figure it out then?
"

"
Tom told me that Fred doesn
'
t usually handle the files,
"
droned Larry.
"
We figured if Fred ever did get into mine, and started asking questions, we
'
d just make up some kind of story to tell him. Anyway, I never planned to be around very long, so it probably wouldn
'
t be a problem.
"

"
I see,
"
nodded Dave, and that was it;
he had
his last answer. The final cipher had been unraveled, and the explanation made sense. It was the first time that
he'd
heard of such a thing happening at the steakhouse, but it was certainly possible, even logical the way that Larry had described it.

Dave felt satisfied, finally ready to leave the room; he wanted to go home and sort through what
he'd
learned, begin the process of getting on with his life.
"
Well,
"
he said.
"
Thanks again for...y
'
know, talking to me like this. I really am sorry for bothering you.
"

"
Whatever,
"
Larry said ambivalently.

"
I think I...understand better now,
"
added Dave.
"
I feel pretty stupid for the things I thought about you before. I just didn
'
t know.
"

In response, Larry just shrugged. His eyes still seemed unfocused, bereft of interest.

"
I, uh...I swear I won
'
t tell anybody what you told me,
"
Dave continued awkwardly.
"
And...don
'
t worry about the
video
, either,
"
he added.
"
I promise I won
'
t show it to anyone.
"
Dave
wasn
'
t
sure why he was prolonging the myth of the incriminating
video
; perhaps, it was because he felt so ashamed already, and revealing the lie that
he'd
propagated would only make him feel worse.

Dave
'
s vows
didn
'
t
seem to have much impact on Larry. He just nodded weakly and stared at the floor.

"
Anyway, I
'
ll see you tomorrow at work,
"
said Dave. He took a step forward, started to pull the door shut behind him...then paused. As unresponsive as Larry was, there was still one more thing that Dave felt he should say to him.

"
Uh...I know I
'
m not much use to you now,
"
he said,
"
but if there
'
s ever...any way I can help...please let me know.
"

Gazing mutely at the bare boards of the floor, Larry nodded.

With that, Dave left the room and closed the door.

*****

Chapter
21

Dave was having a pretty good day.

He was surprised and gratified by how well things were going, how well he
felt
.
Since waking up that morning
--
and
waking
early
--
he'd
been in high spirits;
he'd
felt refreshed and energetic, buoyant and capable, more vigorous than
he'd
been in weeks...and the feeling had lingered.

He had
had work to do, and
he'd
gotten to it without delay or complaint. After showering,
he'd
immediately hurried to his desk to study for the final exam which
he had
to take later that morning. Though
he'd
hardly prepared for the exam in past days, and
he'd
known it was probably too late for new efforts to do much good,
he'd
dived into his notebooks with startling determination.

After several hours of intense study, Dave had driven to campus for the exam, the final test of the term;
he'd
actually entered the classroom early, twenty minutes before the test was set to begin.

Much to his surprise and delight,
he'd
found the exam to be far less difficult than
he'd
expected. A fair number of the questions had been related to the material which
he'd
gone over that morning; there had been plenty of questions for which he could provide only incomplete answers, or no answers at all...but
he'd
been able to respond correctly often enough to ensure at least a passing grade.

When
he'd
done what he could, Dave had left the classroom with a sense of victory in his heart. Though
he'd
known that his grade on the test
wouldn
'
t
be stellar,
he'd
also felt sure that it would be higher than an
'
F
'
. Though he
hadn
'
t
excelled,
he'd
done better than he would have believed the day before; he might still have to retake some courses, extend his college career, but at least he
hadn
'
t
gone down without a fight.

After the test,
he'd
met Darlene for lunch, and that had gone well, too. Initially, s
he'd
been somewhat downcast, but s
he'd
quickly perked up, perhaps inspired by his fine mood. After lunch, they had gone for a long walk around campus, hand in hand; there had been absolutely no sign of the tension which sometimes darkened their time together.

Following the interlude with Darlene, Dave had gone to the mall and treated himself to a new shirt and a
CD
by his favorite band.
He'd
felt like splurging a little, buying some new things; it had been a long time since
he'd
bought new music or clothes, and
he'd
been in the mood for a change of pace.

Even when he got to the Wild West Steakhouse for his three
-
thirty shift, Dave
didn
'
t
experience any drop in his spirits. He
didn
'
t
often anticipate an evening
'
s work, with all its sweat and hassles, with any degree of eagerness; this time, however, he was actually looking forward to his shift, to seeing his friends and getting back into the familiar rhythms of the place.

Dave strolled jauntily through the door, gave a bright greeting to each co
-
worker whom he passed. All smiles, he stopped at the broiler to exchange wisecracks with Billy Bristol, then retreated to the locker room to change his clothes.

As he abandoned his sweatshirt and bluejeans and slipped into his steakhouse uniform, Dave thought about how well his day was going; he smiled as he remembered the exam, and lunch with Darlene, the remarkable improvement over his misfortunes of just a day ago.

Pondering his newfound enthusiasm, he decided that it must be due to the events of the previous night, the dramatic conclusion of his obsessive investigation. The mystery had been solved; at long last,
he had
all the answers which
he'd
sought so doggedly, which had been frustratingly out of reach for what had seemed like forever.

Though
he'd
been deeply disturbed and ashamed the night before, Dave now felt better than
he had
in ages. The shame had disappeared with a night
'
s sleep, leaving in its wake an invigorated, liberated feeling; it was as if
he'd
been wedged in a terrible traffic jam for hours on end, and he was finally clear of it, shooting down a sunny highway with not another car in sight. He felt calm, perfectly at ease, ready for anything...even hopeful.

Yes, he decided, it was all because the mystery of Larry Smith had been resolved. Finally, he could put his obsession behind him; he felt as though he could now accept the deaths of Ernie
'
s parents, accept all that had happened recently, move ahead instead of running in place.

When
he'd
finished changing from his street clothes into the uniform, Dave stowed his belongings in a locker and left the tiny room. Pulling his timecard from the index on the wall, he punched the card in the clock at exactly three
-
thirty. Checking the schedule beside the clock, he saw that he was set to work as fry cook...yet another stroke of luck, since it was a job which he preferred.

Whistling cheerfully, Dave strolled out to the meal prep line and began attending to his duties at the fry cook station.

Glancing over the shoulder
-
high partition which separated the cooking and prep area from the customer chute, he noticed that only a few people were waiting in line; it was too early to tell if he was in for a hectic night, but he was in such a good mood that he
didn
'
t
think that he would care how busy it got.

For a while, things went smoothly. Whistling, kidding with Billy Bristol, Dave did his job gracefully and efficiently, actually managed to stay a step ahead of the rest of the crew. Not for an instant did his spirits sag, his brightness dim.

Then, after a half
-
hour or so, as he was tugging a tray of rolls from the oven, Dave saw Mr. Wyland marching toward him. The manager
-
the only manager, until a replacement could be found for Tom Martin
-
had a peevish expression on his face. He was hunched forward, moving briskly, fists clenched and swinging at his sides; just from looking at him, Dave could tell that he
wasn
'
t
a happy man.

Briefly, Dave wondered if trouble was approaching. He quickly decided that it
wasn
'
t
worth worrying about; his day was going so well that he believed that luck was on his side.

"
Um, Dave
?
"
began the manager, halting his approach at the bubbling fryer.

"
Yes
?
"
Dave replied pleasantly.

"
I, um, need you to do something for me,
"
said Mr. Wyland, his voice tight with anger.
"
I need you to help out.
"

"
Help out with what
?
"
asked Dave.

"
Would you mind working in the dishroom tonight? We
'
re, um, a little
short
-
handed
here.
"
The boss released a puff of disgust and gruffly shook his head.

Dave shrugged.
"
Well, I guess I don
'
t mind. Why
'
re we short
-
handed, if you don
'
t mind my asking?
"

"
Someone didn
'
t show up for his shift,
"
grunted the manager.
"
He, um, didn
'
t even bother to call and tell me he wouldn
'
t be in.
"
Brusquely, Mr. Wyland jerked up a hand, swept a strand of his prematurely silver hair from his forehead.
"
Um, I waited a half
-
hour to see if he
'
d get here, but I can
'
t wait any more. I need somebody in the dishroom right now. I can spare you out here, but the dishroom
'
s a mess, and all I have is one busboy.
"

"
I can work in the dishroom,
"
Dave nodded obligingly, though he
wasn
'
t
thrilled at the prospect of spending the evening up to his elbows in slop.
"
Who was supposed to work back there, anyway?
"

"
Um, Larry,
"
said Mr. Wyland.

Dave
'
s eyes widened with surprise.
"
Really
?
"
he said, straining not to sound too startled.
"
He didn
'
t call in or anything?
"

"
No,
"
the boss answered curtly.
"
He didn
'
t even have the common courtesy to let me know.
"
With an irritated snort, Mr. Wyland looked away, glaring in the general direction of the customer chute; then, he flicked his eyes back to gaze intently at Dave.
"
Um, Dave
?
"
he said curiously.
"
You wouldn
'
t happen to have any idea why he
'
s not here, would you? I know you and Billy are friends of his.
"

"
No,
"
shrugged Dave.
"
I don
'
t have any idea.
"
In truth, of course, he
did
have an idea about the cause of Larry
'
s unexplained absence. Knowing what he did, Dave thought that it was rather easy to guess at Larry
'
s reason for not coming to work.

The day after confessing his most carefully guarded secrets, Larry Smith
hadn
'
t
shown up for his shift at the steakhouse. After a night in which
he'd
made unprecedented revelations, placed dangerous knowledge in the hands of a college kid with only his promise as guarantee of confidentiality, Larry
hadn
'
t
come to labor in the dishroom. Dave
didn
'
t
think that it took a genius to figure out why.

He
didn
'
t
think that Larry Smith would be back to work any time soon; for that matter, the guy might
never
return to the Wild West Steakhouse.

Dave had a strong feeling that Larry the psychic was already out on the road, getting as far away from Confluence as he could. At that moment, he was probably in Ohio, or West Virginia, or New York, escaping the one person who knew enough to expose him to the world...the one person who could ruin his vital work and make his life more miserable than it already was.

As he pondered the possibility that Larry was gone for good, Dave experienced a resurgence of the shame which
he'd
felt the night before; he hated to think that he was responsible for driving the guy off, forcing him to make an unannounced getaway. At the same time, Dave also had a feeling of great disappointment; if Larry was indeed on the run, Dave
wouldn
'
t
have the chance to make up for his troublesome prying, make amends for the pain which
he'd
caused. He would also be robbed of the opportunity to get to know Larry better, to enjoy his company without constantly seeking clues to his secrets.