Free Already Gone by John Rector Page A

dial the number and wait.
    Outside, the sun is cold and bright. I can hear the sharp twitter of students passing below my window. Their voices blend together then fade away.
    After the fifth ring, the line clicks and the answering machine picks up, again.
    “This is Jake Reese. I’m trying to get in touch with Lisa Bishop.”
    I leave my number, then hang up and lean back in my chair. Diane’s ring is sitting on my desk. I pick it up and turn it over in my hands, then set it on the desktop and spin it like a coin.
    The sunlight shatters off the surface.
    “Jake?”
    I look up. Doug is standing in the doorway.
    “Got a minute?”
    I pick up Diane’s ring and squeeze it in my hand, feeling it dig into my palm. “Come on in.”
    Doug steps inside and looks around. He points to a stack of books on one of the chairs and says, “Mind if I make some room?”
    “Make yourself at home.”
    Doug moves the books to the floor, sits. “Who’s Lisa Bishop?”
    “What?”
    “The phone call.” He motions toward the doorway. “I overheard your message.”
    “Eavesdropping?”
    “I wouldn’t call it that, but now I’m curious. So, spill it. Who is she?”
    “She’s a psychic,” I say. “In Arizona.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “I’m not.”
    Doug pauses. “Do I have to ask?”
    I take Lisa’s business card off my desk and hand it to him. “I found it in Diane’s suitcase. I think she went to see her when she was down there last month. I want to know what they talked about.”
    Doug reads both sides of the card, frowns. “Why?”
    I open my mouth, but I don’t have an answer.
    Talking to Lisa won’t bring Diane back, and it won’t change anything that’s happened, so why do I want to talk to her? Why do I care?
    “I want to know what she was thinking.”
    Doug nods. “How are you holding up?”
    “Trying to keep busy.”
    “Is it helping?”
    “If you came to talk about my feelings—”
    “Just asking a question,” Doug says. “You haven’t said anything to anyone. It’s been almost a week, and we’re all in the dark. Is there going to be a funeral?”
    “Haven’t decided. When I’m ready to say something about it, I will.”
    “Okay.” He hands me the card. “So, Lisa Bishop, the girl with the answers.”
    “What do you want me to do? I can’t just sit around the house. I’ll go crazy.”
    Doug motions to the stack of essays on my desk and says, “You could grade papers?”
    “Lose myself in my work?”
    “If it helps, sure.” Doug leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Speaking of work, there’s something we need to discuss.”
    I watch him and wait.
    “Anne Carlson came to see me. She told me she gave you a ride home the other night and that the police were at your house. Was that for Diane?”
    I nod. “What did she want?”
    “She was concerned. She said you didn’t look good.”
    “But what did she want?”
    “She asked me to come and talk to you,” Doug says. “She wants my opinion on your mental state.”
    “My mental state?”
    “That’s how she put it.”
    “She wants to know if you think I’m crazy.”
    “She wants to know how you’re holding up under the stress and if your personal life is getting in the way of your job.”
    “Is she going to fire me?”
    “Of course not,” Doug says. “She wants to help.”
    I stare at him and wait for him to go on.
    Doug looks past me to the bookshelves behind my desk. “She mentioned a paid leave of absence until things settle down. It’ll give you time to get back on your feet.”
    I let that sink in for a moment. “What did you tell her?”
    “I told her I’d talk to you. She’s worried about you. Everyone’s worried.”
    I turn in my chair and face the window. “What do you think of the idea?”
    “If you think the time off will help, take it. Get your life back in order. Start working on a new book. Do whatever you like, it’s up to you.”
    “Can I think about it for a couple