Chapter 14
James paced the ten short steps of his office replaying the newsreel of Hempel’s murder in quick-time scenes behind his eyes. Here is the still of Hempel’s whitewashed house. There is the photo of Hempel, his thinning hair brushed to the side, his tie knotted perfectly, his small, nervous eyes. There the blood stains the rug, and there the red ooze trails outside. The more James tried to force the images away, the more brightly they burned and blinded him.
He wanted to leave campus, go walking around Salem, through Massachusetts, across the continent. It would take a three thousand mile walk to ease the anxiety he felt like an itching under his skin. It was a strain, this flat-faced ache. He was done teaching for the night, but Sarah had another hour in the library. Needing to
