on the next train and disappear. “Tell you what,” I said, “I’ll go with you and wait until your daughter shows up. It’s getting late.”
“You do-gooders are all alike,” he said, but at least he didn’t argue. As we set off for the escalators, he gripped my arm and spoke under his breath. “I may need to call her.”
“Of course.” I turned to Map Man. “Another train should be here in a minute. Thanks for your help.”
“This is my stop, too.”
Oh great.
With that familiar “something is not right” feeling tingling up my back, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed. With any luck I’d have enough juice for this important call and another to Bettencourt’s daughter.
“Who are you calling?” Map Man asked.
I ignored him.
Mr. Bettencourt cleared his throat several times as the number went to voicemail. “Hey,” I said into the receiver,“it’s me. I’m just getting off at Crystal City. Can you…can you meet me?” I didn’t know what else to say, so I hung up.
We reached the top and made it through the turnstiles. “So, what’s your name?” Map Man asked.
Again I ignored him. “Come on, Mr. Bettencourt, we’re almost there.”
Map Man was nothing if not persistent. “My name’s Brad.”
He looked like a Brad.
“No need to give me the cold shoulder,” he said, trailing us through the exit and outside into the windy chill. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”
When the frigid night wind hit me, I questioned myself. Maybe he
was
just trying to be friendly. To help out an older person. Why else would he hang out here in the cold if he didn’t have to? Maybe he knew the Metro system well and had brought home a map for a friend. Maybe he didn’t have an evil agenda and my fears were completely unfounded. I often picked up on conspiracies before others did. Trouble arose when I thought I detected one where none existed.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “long day.”
I looked up and down the street for Mr. Bettencourt’s daughter. “Is this the exit where you’ll meet her?” I asked. “Will she walk or drive?”
Bettencourt wrinkled his nose as he stared upward, clearly looking for landmarks. He didn’t seem very sure of himself when he nodded. “Yeah. This is it.”
“I hear you about the long day,” Brad said. “Mine was a bear.” He studied the landmarks, too. “You live around here?”
I was spared answering because Mr. Bettencourt thought the question had been directed to him. “Not far. She’ll be here in a minute.”
Brad shifted his weight and looked ready to launch into a new round of questions.
“You can go ahead,” I said. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
“I don’t want to leave you out here by yourselves—”
“Trust me, we’ll be fine. I have a friend meeting me.”
“No, you don’t. You only left a voicemail,” he said. “No telling when
your friend
will get the message.”
Brad was smiling in a way that scared me. But I couldn’t take off, not without making sure Mr. Bettencourt was all right. I had slipped my cell phone into my pocket and now I reached in to grip it again, ready to dial James at the front desk of my building. He’d be quick to send help if I so much as squeaked.
“Mr. Bettencourt, do you have your daughter’s phone number?”
The question seemed only to confuse him further.
“How about I call a cab?” I asked.
Still looking around, Bettencourt seemed to grow less certain by the moment. “I don’t know.”
“Hey!” Brad snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “I know you.”
“Mr. Bettencourt?” I said, turning my back to Brad. “I’m going to call a cab. If your daughter comes in the meantime, I’ll just take it myself.”
My apartment was within easy walking distance, but I didn’t want Brad offering to accompany me. I also didn’t want to hear how he thought he knew me. I pulled up my phone again to see if I had a local taxi company on speed dial. Low on battery juice, the handset gave
“You do-gooders are all alike,” he said, but at least he didn’t argue. As we set off for the escalators, he gripped my arm and spoke under his breath. “I may need to call her.”
“Of course.” I turned to Map Man. “Another train should be here in a minute. Thanks for your help.”
“This is my stop, too.”
Oh great.
With that familiar “something is not right” feeling tingling up my back, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed. With any luck I’d have enough juice for this important call and another to Bettencourt’s daughter.
“Who are you calling?” Map Man asked.
I ignored him.
Mr. Bettencourt cleared his throat several times as the number went to voicemail. “Hey,” I said into the receiver,“it’s me. I’m just getting off at Crystal City. Can you…can you meet me?” I didn’t know what else to say, so I hung up.
We reached the top and made it through the turnstiles. “So, what’s your name?” Map Man asked.
Again I ignored him. “Come on, Mr. Bettencourt, we’re almost there.”
Map Man was nothing if not persistent. “My name’s Brad.”
He looked like a Brad.
“No need to give me the cold shoulder,” he said, trailing us through the exit and outside into the windy chill. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”
When the frigid night wind hit me, I questioned myself. Maybe he
was
just trying to be friendly. To help out an older person. Why else would he hang out here in the cold if he didn’t have to? Maybe he knew the Metro system well and had brought home a map for a friend. Maybe he didn’t have an evil agenda and my fears were completely unfounded. I often picked up on conspiracies before others did. Trouble arose when I thought I detected one where none existed.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “long day.”
I looked up and down the street for Mr. Bettencourt’s daughter. “Is this the exit where you’ll meet her?” I asked. “Will she walk or drive?”
Bettencourt wrinkled his nose as he stared upward, clearly looking for landmarks. He didn’t seem very sure of himself when he nodded. “Yeah. This is it.”
“I hear you about the long day,” Brad said. “Mine was a bear.” He studied the landmarks, too. “You live around here?”
I was spared answering because Mr. Bettencourt thought the question had been directed to him. “Not far. She’ll be here in a minute.”
Brad shifted his weight and looked ready to launch into a new round of questions.
“You can go ahead,” I said. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
“I don’t want to leave you out here by yourselves—”
“Trust me, we’ll be fine. I have a friend meeting me.”
“No, you don’t. You only left a voicemail,” he said. “No telling when
your friend
will get the message.”
Brad was smiling in a way that scared me. But I couldn’t take off, not without making sure Mr. Bettencourt was all right. I had slipped my cell phone into my pocket and now I reached in to grip it again, ready to dial James at the front desk of my building. He’d be quick to send help if I so much as squeaked.
“Mr. Bettencourt, do you have your daughter’s phone number?”
The question seemed only to confuse him further.
“How about I call a cab?” I asked.
Still looking around, Bettencourt seemed to grow less certain by the moment. “I don’t know.”
“Hey!” Brad snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “I know you.”
“Mr. Bettencourt?” I said, turning my back to Brad. “I’m going to call a cab. If your daughter comes in the meantime, I’ll just take it myself.”
My apartment was within easy walking distance, but I didn’t want Brad offering to accompany me. I also didn’t want to hear how he thought he knew me. I pulled up my phone again to see if I had a local taxi company on speed dial. Low on battery juice, the handset gave
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