"Laymon, Richard - InTheDark" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laymon Richard)

"I didn't know anyone was up here."
"I'm really sorry." He released her shoulder, turned around and opened the door for her.
"Thanks," she said.
She expected him to head on down, but he followed her out of the stairwell. She looked back at him.
He gave her a smile that looked friendly and a little sheepish. "Do you mind? Maybe I could help you pick up, or something. I hate to leave you alone up here. Especially right after I've arranged to scare the daylights out of you."
Jane knew she shouldn't trust him. What was he doing up here after closing time? He might even be the man who called himself MOG. But nothing about him seemed threatening. He looked very normal: his hair slightly unkempt; his clean-shaven face attractive but not handsome in any striking way; his shirt and jeans casual but neat and clean.
For the first time, Jane noticed that he was carrying a book. It must've been in his left hand all along.
A very thick book.
The nape of her neck began to crawl.
_Look Homeward, Angel_. Has to be. Can't possibly be anything else.
"What's that?" she asked.
The stranger raised the book. "_Youngblood Hawke_. Wouk? I've been meaning to read it for . . . too late to check it out tonight?"
"No. No, that's fine." She released a shaky breath. "You can either stick around, or wait downstairs. This'll only take a couple of minutes."
"I'll walk along with you, if that's all right."
"Fine."
From the stairwell door, an aisle stretched the length of the room. To the aisle's right, study carrels lined the wall. To the left stood row after row of bookshelves that reached to the ceiling. The stranger stayed at Jane's side, but half a pace behind, allowing her to lead the way.
Except for their footsteps and the creaking floorboards, there was silence.
"Was anybody else up here?" Jane asked.
"Just now? I don't think so, but I was reading. I tend to block everything out when I'm in a good book. Want me to grab these?" he asked, gesturing toward several books that had been left at one of the carrels.
"They can wait till morning. Thanks, though."
"Welcome. My name's Brace, by the way."
Jane looked over at him. "It's what?"
"Brace. Brace Paxton."
Deciding not to question him about his unusual name, she went ahead and introduced herself. "I'm Jane Kerry."
"I thought it might be James Bowie."
"Are you a wise guy, Brace Paxton?"
"Sorry. But maybe you oughta take that knife out of your pocket. I'd hate to see you trip and fall with it open like that."
"Me, too, actually." Halting, she turned toward the gap between two rows of shelves. Her back to Brace, she delved into the pocket of her blouse. "It's a switchblade," she explained. That's how it opened. Its safety thing doesn't work."
Carefully, she fingered her nipple through the fabric. It felt a little tender, but the pain had faded away. The blade must've given her no more than a harsh, stinging flick. "I was trying to take it out when you rammed through the door, and I pushed the button by accident."
"Hope it didn't do any damage."
A blush spread sudden heat through Jane. She quit fingering her breast and reached deeper into the pocket. "I guess I'm fine." She curled her fingertips underneath the knife handle.
"Be careful taking it out."
"I'm trying to be."
This is a lousy idea, she thought. He can't see my hand, but he sure knows where it is. Next thing you know, he'll be offering to help.
"If I'd been keeping better track of the time," he said, "none of this would've happened."
"No harm done."
"I'm glad we met, though."
Wish I could say the same, she thought. Then she said, "Well, thanks."
She tightened her precarious grip on the knife. Then she pushed her knuckles against the pocket, bulging the blouse away from her body to put her breast out of harm's way, and drew the knife upward, sliding its blade free of the slit. "There. Got it." She turned around and showed him the weapon.
"You're sure you aren't hurt?"
"I'm fine." She folded the blade shut.
"Where'll you put it, now?"
"Guess I'll just carry it."
They continued on their way down the aisle, Jane checking between the rows of shelves, Brace walking slowly beside her.
As they made their way toward the end of the room, Jane realized she was growing more and more tense. At first, she wasn't sure why. Then she knew.
Because they were almost to the Ws.
Should she check for _Look Homeward, Angel_?
Why not?
She'd spent enough time reshelving books up here to know the exact location of the Thomas Wolfe novels. She would be walking right past them.
What about Brace? she asked herself.