Page 73 of The Librarians
The police cannot find Jeannette’s phone, because that would lead them to Sophie. And just turning it off isn’t good enough, according to seemingly legitimate sources online. She must detach the battery altogether to avoid third-party tracking.
Sophie shakes worse than ever, but it’s time to execute her exit strategy.
Chapter Twenty
It is half past ten. Sophie has been speaking for almost an hour.
Jonathan and Astrid, mouths agape, are still trying to digest what they’ve heard. Hazel, who has known for some time that something was the matter, if not precisely what the matter was, brings Sophie some water.
Sophie drinks gratefully. The table before her is a junkscape of open salsa containers, discarded tea bags, and half-eaten food. It has been like that the entire time Sophie talked: Nobody ate, nobody cleaned up, nobody did anything at all.
Sophie picks up her thoroughly cold breakfast taco and bites into the now soggy tortilla.
“Does—does Elise know?” asks Astrid.
Sophie isn’t sure whether her question concerns Elise’s parentage or the hole to the center of the Earth Sophie has dug for herself. But the answer is the same. “Not yet.”
Jonathan gathers up a handful of trash and pitches everything into the wastebasket behind him. “So you still have Jeannette Obermann’s phone?”
“Unfortunately so. At first I was paranoid about getting all traces of my DNA wiped off. Then I was like, ‘Oh, no, if they had her phone, they’d know right away she contacted me just before she died’—which had me really conflicted since I want the police to have whatever other evidence might be there on her phone.
“But the worst is—” The sinking feeling from the night before engulfsSophie again. She gulps for air. “In my panic that night, between doing everything else, I read one crucial piece of information wrong. I thought I had weeks before the police would have her phone records. But they might have them already—and if not, they must be very close.
“And once they get them, once they see what Jeannette Obermann texted me that night, they are going to zero in on me like a heat-seeking missile.”
The walls of the Den of Calories are already closing in on her. “My life flashes before my eyes three times a day. I don’t know what to do once the police get their hands on the phone records. And above all I’m petrified the truth about Jo-Ann and Elise will come out and I’ll lose Elise.”
Silence. Even the roof seems to be lowering ominously.
Ever since she made the choice to honor Jo-Ann’s dying wish, Sophie has steeled herself for the day it could blow up on her. The passage of the years might have made her less wary, but a pool of fear has always rippled quietly in the depths of her mind.
But still, she’s unprepared for the destruction being found out like this would unleash.
And while it was such an overwhelming relief to unburden herself to Jonathan, Astrid, and Hazel, panic, like quicksand, is rising around her again. In fact, she might have done them a great unkindness. Now if the police question these three about Jeannette Obermann—or about Elise, if it comes to that—they will no longer be able to plead ignorance.
“So…” says Hazel, her voice remarkably even, “I guess it would help if we knew who actually killed Jeannette—and Perry.”
The library is open on Sundays from noon to five.
Sophie and Astrid, who are not on the schedule, leave together a little before eleven—Sophie has invited Astrid to stay for a few days at her house until Astrid feels comfortable going back to her condo. Jonathan sleepwalks through the first couple hours of his shift, straightening up the rolling carts next to the circulation area every time he’s completely distracted by the revelations of the day.
At three o’clock, Hazel, coming off an hour facing the public, signals that she wants to talk to him. They walk outside under the guise of a quick break.
The day is sunny and mild. Hazel looks tired. For the first time he notices tiny lines at the corners of her eyes.
“You wouldn’t happen to smoke, would you, Jonathan?” she asks.
He shakes his head. “I stopped when I got out of the navy. You?”
“Not anymore, either. But right now I could really use one, or even half a cigarette.”
In her place, he would have gone through a pack by now.
Whatever she wants to talk to him about would most likely involve finding out what exactly Conrad was doing on Game Night. He feels a great reluctance. Part of him wonders whether in doing so he will burn all his bridges with Ryan. But more than that, he is in a strange agony for her. The uncertainty must eat at her, yet the actual knowledge could prove ten times worse.
“What’s your plan?” he says after a moment.
