The Vanishing Point Read Online Free PDF Page B

Why give them the chance to do it again?”
    â€œIf we refuse to show it to them, they could get a subpoena. It’s possible they’ll see some clue in the journal that you and I missed. The reference to Lou, for example. Do you know who that is?”
    â€œNo. Show it to them if you must, but no one else, certainly not the press.”
    â€œAll right,” Claire agreed.
    â€œIs there anything else? Otto appears to be getting tired.”
    Otto looked exactly the same to Claire as he had when he entered the room. “Would you like to come to the center to see the original document?” she asked.
    â€œLet me think about it.” Ada stood up and extended her hand. “Thank you for your time.”
    â€œThank you,” Claire replied.

Chapter Three
    C LAIRE STOPPED AT D URAN ’ S P HARMACY ON C ENTRAL FOR LUNCH . She sat at the counter and ate tamales, enjoying their texture and heat. When she got back to the center she noticed a man standing beside the reception desk. He didn’t have a hat, but she had the fleeting impression that he held one in front of him. It seemed like the kind of gesture this man would make. He wore a short-sleeved shirt, a bolo tie, and khaki pants that were belted above his stomach. He was at least six feet tall and over two hundred pounds, but his posture was deferential. He gave the impression he was waiting for someone, and Claire suspected she was the someone. She had heard a lot about the kind of person Curt Devereux was, but little about his appearance. Yet her instinct had told her this was what he would look like.
    Claire walked up to him, introduced herself, and asked if he was Curt Devereux.
    â€œHow did you know?” he asked.
    â€œI made an educated guess,” Claire replied. “I’ve read a lot about you,” Even after she introduced herself, Curt continued to give the impression he was waiting for something. Retirement? Claire wondered. Waiting for retirement went with the territory when a person worked for the federal government. It could be dangerous, Claire thought, to wait until middle age to start living your life. She had recently been through the death of a parent, the death of a mentor, and a divorce. She had come out of that turbulent period with the conviction that life had to be lived every moment, as it happened. She looked into Curt Devereux’s unblinking eyes and placid face. If he felt anger or regret about his career or about anything else, he concealed it well.
    â€œLet’s go to my office,” Claire said.
    â€œThis is a wonderful building,” Curt told her. “It’s everything a library should be.”
    Claire agreed with him. Zimmerman Library had been designed by the architect John Gaw Meem and was beautifully proportioned, with high ceilings supported by rows of vigas and corbels. “Have you been here before?” she asked as she opened the wrought-iron door that led to the center’s offices.
    â€œI worked in the Park Service office in Albuquerque in the seventies. I used to come in and study the Vail papers to see if I could find any clues to Jonathan’s disappearance in his writing. I know the journal and A Blue-Eyed Boy are available in print, but those versions had been edited and they weren’t in Vail’s handwriting. I thought I might find something in the originals. Maybe I just liked coming here. I always felt I’d like to get a Ph.D.”
    â€œIn what?”
    â€œHistory.”
    They had reached Claire’s office. “You have time,” she said as she opened the door, but she knew well enough that some men retired and died before they ever had a chance to fulfill their dreams.
    â€œAs I told you, I have less than a year left with the federal government,” Curt replied. “Lately I’ve been pushing papers around and serving out my term, but I pulled some strings and managed to get myself reassigned to the Vail case. It will