friend is okay,” Barbara had said, and gave him a radiant smile that melted any reservations he might have had.
God knows Barbara has her own reservations; just looking at the little green dot on the map makes her feel guilty, especially since Jerome dumped his own tracker. But what Jerome doesn’t know (and Barbara won’t tell him) is that after Portland, Holly went to Pittsburgh. That, combined with the web searches Barbara looked at on Holly’s home computer, makes her think Holly’s interested in the Macready School bombing after all, and that interest seems to focus on either Charles “Chet” Ondowsky, the reporter from WPEN who was first on the scene, or Fred Finkel, his cameraman. Barbara thinks it’s almost certainly Ondowsky Holly is interested in, because there are more searches for him. Holly has even jotted his name on the pad beside her computer… with two question marks after it.
Barbara doesn’t want to think her friend is having some kind of mindfuck, maybe even a nervous breakdown, nor does she want to believe Holly might have somehow stumbled on the trail of the school bomber… but she knows that’s not beyond the realm, as they say. Holly is insecure, Holly spends way too much time doubting herself, but Holly is also smart. Is it possible that Ondowsky and Finkel (a pairing that inevitably reminds her of Simon & Garfunkel) somehow stumbled across a clue to the bomber without knowing it, or even realizing it?
This idea makes Barbara think of a film she watched with Holly. Blow-Up, it was called. In it, a photographer taking pictures of lovers in a park accidentally photographs a man hiding in the bushes with a pistol. What if something like that happened at the Macready School? What if the bomber had returned to the scene of the crime to gloat over his handiwork, and the TV guys had filmed him as he watched (or even pretended to help)? What if Holly had somehow realized that? Barbara knew and accepted that the idea was farfetched, but didn’t life sometimes imitate art? Maybe Holly had gone to Pittsburgh to interview Ondowsky and Finkel. That would be safe enough, Barbara supposes, but what if the bomber was still in the area, and Holly went after him?
What if the bomber went after her?
All of this is probably bullshit, but Barbara is nevertheless relieved when the WebWatcher app tracks Holly leaving Pittsburgh and driving to her mother’s house. She almost deleted the tracker then, certainly doing so would have eased her conscience, but then Holly had called her yesterday, apparently for no reason other than to tell her she’d be staying over at her mom’s on Saturday night. And then, at the end of the call, Holly had said, “I love you.”
Well, of course she does, and Barbara loves her, but that was understood, not the kind of thing you had to say out loud. Except maybe on special occasions. Like if you’d had a fight with your friend and were making up. Or if you were going on a long trip. Or going off to fight in a war. Barbara is sure it was the last thing men and women said to their parents or partners before leaving to do that.
And there had been a certain tone to the way she’d said it that Barbara didn’t like. Sad, almost. And now the green dot tells Barbara that Holly isn’t staying the night at her mother’s after all. She’s apparently headed back to the city. Change of plans? Maybe a fight with her mother?
Or had she flat-out lied?
Barbara glances at her desk and sees the DVDs she’s borrowed from Holly for her report: The Maltese Falcon, The Big Sleep, and Harper. She thinks they’ll be the perfect excuse to talk to Holly when Holly gets back. She’ll affect surprise to find Holly at home, then try to find out what was so important in Portland and Pittsburgh. She may even confess to the tracker—that will depend on how things go.
She checks Holly’s location on her phone again. Still the turnpike. Barbara guesses that the traffic might be jammed up by construction or an accident. She looks at her watch, then back at the green dot. She thinks that Holly will be lucky to get back much before five o’clock.
And I’ll be at her apartment by five-thirty, Barbara thinks. I hope nothing’s wrong with her… but I think maybe there is.