Page 20 of The Librarians
Her fingers clutch at the edge of her cardigan. “On the day he returned, he tried to put some sort of gloss on his disappearance. I refused to listen. But the next day, he was in the library again and was struck during an altercation. He left quickly enough that we didn’t speak, but I worried. So that evening, after work, I sent him a few texts telling him he could come over if he wanted, but he never responded.”
“You didn’t try to get in touch with him after that?”
Astrid shakes her head. “What was the point?”
Detective Shariati is silent for some time. They must know that what Astrid said is true, that there was no more exchange between her and Perry after her unanswered texts.
“Does the library have CCTV cameras?” Maryam Shariati asks instead.
“It does, but they haven’t worked for a while.” Astrid gathers her courage. “Perry—is he okay?”
Maryam Shariati again does not answer her question. “Can you give us an account of your movements in the twenty-four hours after the altercation here?”
Maybe he is lying in a hospital unconscious. Maybe he kidnapped someone. Maybe he stood up people far more important than Astrid—a judge or a parole officer—and is now being considered a fugitive.
Anything but the bleak possibility that is now a maelstrom in her head, swallowing up all hope and coherent thought.
“I was at the library until it closed at nine p.m. that night. I texted him after I got home,” she answers. “At one point someone came to the door. I thought it was him, but it was only the pizza I ordered. I went to sleep and came back to work the next morning and didn’t leave again until the end of my shift.”
She clasps her hands together and prays this will be the end of the interview. Instead, Detective Shariati starts again from their first meeting and wants to know everything Perry said and did—or at least, everything that wasn’t NC-17.
Astrid does most of the talking, yet she feels as if she is the one forced to listen to something endless and miserable. She wants to cover her ears and beg for it to stop.
At last Maryam Shariati asks, “And you’ve answered everything to the best of your recollection?”
Astrid’s voice quakes. “Yes.”
At a signal from Detective Shariati, Detective Jones turns off the recording equipment.
Astrid leaps to her feet. “Can you please tell me now what happened to Perry?”
“He is dead,” says Maryam Shariati, her eyes softening slightly. “I’m sorry. Thank you again for your cooperation.”
Chapter Eight
The police call Jonathan into the meeting room next. He has no idea what he can possibly tell them, until they show him an image of Astrid’s “situation.”
Jonathan gives an honest if pared-down version of the Q&A between the British guy and himself. He describes the bit of the brawl that he saw the following day between the guy and an apparently homeless patron. He hesitates when Maryam asks him whether he remembers the man’s visit from earlier in the year, but in the end answers yes, though he does not volunteer anything about Astrid looking adoringly at the man.
As soon as the police leave, he sets out to find Astrid. She is in the children’s area, setting up a display of November holiday books.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Two days ago, he asked her the same thing. Then she kept him at arm’s length; today she turns around and grips the front of his shirt with both hands. “I don’t know, Jonathan.”
Several parents with young children milling about look curiously in their direction. Jonathan tucks Astrid under his arm and ushers her into the Den of Calories. Sophie brought in a bunch of Halloween-themed cupcakes a couple of days ago and there are still a few left in the fridge. He takes one out, sets it in front of Astrid, and asks, “You want something to drink?”
Startling them both, Hazel pokes her head out of the storage room. “Ibrought a hot water dispenser from home. If you want tea, now you can have it right away.”
And then, after a moment, “I’m sorry. The gentleman the police wanted to know about, is he okay?”
Like Jonathan, Astrid, and Sophie, Hazel too was interviewed by Maryam and her partner.
Astrid shakes her head. “He’s dead.”
Hazel’s already grave expression turns even more somber. She glances at Jonathan. And when he nods, she comes into the Den of Calories and puts a mug under the hot water dispenser. “Is there anything we can do?”
Astrid tents her hands over her forehead, as if by doing so she can shield herself. She takes several deep breaths and looks up. “Jonathan, you know Detective Shariati, right?”
