Page 9 of All My Broken Dreams

The question seemed to embarrass him. Deacon ducked his head and fixed his gaze on the road ahead. “I’m the custodian. I empty the garbage, buff the floors, repair whatever breaks down–that kind of thing. The building is three-hundred-years-old. Something is always breaking down.”

Her interest in her rescuer was piqued. “Is that what you did in Canada?”

“No. I have family here. They pulled strings to get me the job.”

They fell into an awkward silence. Obviously, her companion was a private man who didn’t welcome questions.Robbie could respect that. They were only going to be stuck with each other for a few days at most.

Deacon broke the silence first. “It’s possible that your brother changed his mind about school and went backpacking through the countryside instead. He wouldn’t be the first.”

“Really? I never thought of that! You give me hope that Harry is alive and well, just not in Edinburgh.I didn’t consider that possibility. I know Mom didn’t either. Harry was the studious one of the two of us. I struggled to keep up in college. I had to quit eventually. I took classes online but when I was forced to attend in person, I just couldn’t do it. Harry always said I was book smart and people stupid.”

They arrived at a stone facade that was a monochromatic hulk against the falling snow.

“This is it,” Deacon said. “This is my place.”

It was a squat building that sat flush with the narrow sidewalk. There wasn’t even a verge of grass or room for a front step. The windows were made up of diamond-shaped panes of ancient glass fixed in place with lead soldering. The window at street level was dark.

“That’s Number One,” he said. “It’s been vacant for a while. I’m on the second floor. That’s my place up there, facing the street.”

He pointed and Robbie followed the gesture. Snow misted her eyes. The light from the window blurred and bled into the encroaching dark.

“It looks cozy,” she said, hoping this wasn’t a case of her being people stupid. Her rescuer was a janitor. Janitors were always the serial killers in the movies.

Wake unlocked the front door and stood aside to allow Robbie to get in first. It was too narrow to admit more than one person at a time. “Can you handle the stairs on your own? I’ll come back for your suitcase if you need help.”

The staircase was narrow and steep and it hugged the wall to the right. A bank of mailboxes, six in all, were affixed to the wall at the base of the stairs.

Robbie’s stomach caved when she read the labels. The name on box Number One was ‘Harry Listowel.’

“That’s Harry. Why is Harry’s name on this mailbox?”

Deacon had his back turned to her to wrestle the suitcase over the threshold. He shot a glance over his shoulder at the mailbox and shrugged.

But his face was a mask. Frozen. As though he was caught off guard and Robbie knew in her gut that he was lying to her.

“I don’t know. I never noticed that name. Housing is assigned for students who are accepted to the Academy. I guess your brother didn’t let the building manager know he made other arrangements. Or he did and Mrs. Cameron hasn’t gotten around to removing his name from the box.”

“Why would he leave here to live at Dugald Croft? It doesn’t make sense.” She scanned the lobby as if somehow it would reveal the answer.

“Did he know you were coming to see him?”

“I sent him a message through his social media accounts. He didn’t respond, but he might’ve known I was coming.”

She knocked on the door to Harry Listowel’s assigned room–a Hail Mary, but if she didn’t check it out, her mother would hate her for the rest of her life.

“Harry? It’s Robbie. Harry! If you’re in there, you better answer me!”

Dead silence.

She turned to Deacon who was staring at her from the shadows. The hall was dim, lit only by a yellow wall sconce and a bulb that threw more shadows than light.

“Would Mrs. Cameron have the key to get in?”

“I assume so, but she won’t answer the phone until morning.” He nodded at a yellowed card tacked over the mailboxes. It listed the rules for the building and a phone number to call in the event of an emergency. “That’s her number, but she won’t show up until she’s good and ready. And she won’t open the door for a stranger claiming to be a relative. I’ll vouch for you but you’re not getting inside the room tonight.”

Deacon had paused on the bottom stair with his hand on the rail. He turned his head in Robbie’s direction and his mouth tightened slightly. Then he gave her a dark look that was confusing at the same time it made her pulse jump.

“Have you changed your mind about coming upstairs? It’s okay if you have, but you can’t hang out in the hallway all night. You’re welcome to crash on the couch in my room. I’ll lose my job if anyone finds out but the offer still stands. You can’t sleep in a cupboard.”

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