What the Librarian Did Read Online Free PDF

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    R ACHEL WAS REHEARSING her rebuke to Devin the next day when the boy she’d noticed came up to her station.
    “What can I do for you?” Her smile must have had an edge because he eyed her warily as he shoved back his hair.
    “I was wondering if you had any lists of all the university staff…you know, like everybody, not just the lecturers. And their ages.”
    “Not here. You might be able to access some information through the registrar, but there’s possibly some privacy issues around their release.”
    His face fell. “Oh.”
    “What’s the name? Maybe I know the person and can save you the trouble.”
    “Um, she’s an old friend of my parents. I was just hoping I’d…recognize something when I saw the list.”
    Poor kid, he really was desperate for a friend if he was hunting down such tenuous connections. “Where are you from?” Rachel asked kindly. She was supposed to be leaving on her morning break but this was more important.
    “A farm outside Cambridge.”
    “Really? I grew up in Hamilton.” They were only twenty minutes apart. “Small world. First time living away from home?”
    He swallowed. “Yeah.”
    “It’s hard initially, but you’ll find your feet soon. A lot of the first years are in the same boat, all scared—”
    The teen glowered. “I’m not scared.”
    Damn, wrong word . If Devin hadn’t rattled her, she wouldn’t have chosen it.
    “I see you’ve got a book there…would you like me to check it out for you? It will save you joining the queue at the front desk.”
    It was a peace offering for hurting his pride, and he took it. “Yeah, thanks.” He handed over the book along with his library card.
    Which didn’t work. “They do this sometimes at the beginning of term,” she said. “Let me just check that all your details are filled in….” The screen came up. “Mark…nice name. Okay, one of the library’s ID codes is missing.”
    Glancing at his address, she noticed he wasn’t living in residence, which was a shame; he’d make more friends that way. She nodded at the guitar case by his feet. “Youknow, the university has a lot of music clubs you might be interested in.”
    “I’m not really a club-joining kind of guy.”
    About to reply, Rachel caught sight of his birth date and her breath hitched. June 29, 1992 .
    “Something wrong?”
    “No.” Her fingers were suddenly clumsy on the keyboard as she reminded herself of the facts. On average, there were sixty-four thousand births a year in New Zealand. Which meant around one hundred and seventy-seven people—eighty-eight boys—shared her son’s birthday. But she had to ask. “So what do your parents do?”
    Mark frowned. “You need that for the form?”
    “No, it’s processing.”
    “Mom’s a teacher.” Rachel’s pulse kicked up a notch. “And Dad’s a farmer.”
    Not a policeman. As always, the disappointment was crushing enough to make Rachel feel sick. Her fingers were damp on the keyboard; she wiped them on her skirt, chiding herself for an overactive imagination. She gave the teenager his card.
    “Here you go. All sorted now.”
    Mark shoved it back in his jeans. “He used to be a cop,” he added, and the smile froze on her face.
    Someone who knew how to keep her baby safe, she’d thought when short-listing the applicants with her social worker.
    “Are you okay?” Mark asked.
    “Fine.” Her heart was beating so hard he must be able to hear it. Rachel loosened the top button of her shirt, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. There was only one way to know.
    “You have something in your hair,” she said abruptly, reaching out a trembling hand.
    “Yeah?” He started flicking his fingers through the blond strands, “What is it?”
    “A…an insect…let me.”
    Obediently, he leaned forward, and she brushed the hair away from his right ear. “Turn your head a little.”
    Just at the hairline behind his ear, she saw it. A birthmark the size of her thumbnail.