Chapter 4
Ludlow heard a banging sound coming from the little cluster of administrative offices at the head of the hall. His eyes narrowed and he stopped swabbing the floor to listen more closely. Yes, definitely the noise of metal on metal, like a sliding drawer in a file cabinet. There it was again. Maybe one of the old lady librarians working late. He could complain to her about not reporting the leak in the ceiling that was sending a dribble of rusty water down the pale tan tiles of the floor.
The sound repeated itself, this time more frenzied.
Ludlow crept closer to have a peek around the edge of the doors through the narrow pane of glass that ran the length of the knob side, carefully still mopping so it looked like he was working, not spying. No one in any of ’em, and the lights were all out. Then where—?
The banging ended with a frustrated rattle practically under his ear. It was coming from the supply room. An intruder, certainly a thief. He tried the solid wooden door, shaking it gently. It was locked. The deadbolt boomed ominously in the door jamb. As soon as whoever it was heard him, operations within the supply room ceased. He unreeled the heavy ring of keys from its retractable lead on his belt and shouldered open the door, leveling the mop handle like a shotgun.
With a gasp, the intruder whirled, opening wide green eyes on him. Ludlow was disgusted. It was a kid. A little kid, with a head full of wild red curls, wearing a short, shapeless dress and socks but no shoes. She had her hands full of Xerox paper reams and felt tip pens, some of which cascaded to the floor in her surprise.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “How’d you get in here? Never mind. You’re coming with me. I’m calling the police.”
The child didn’t speak. Instead, clutching her booty, she lunged under his arm toward the door. Ludlow blocked her exit easily with the mop handle and reached for her. She backed up, her solemn gaze remaining fixed on his face.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Ludlow asked. He felt not unkindly toward the child. After all, he had five of his own at home. But you had to teach ’em what was right and wrong. And why the hell was she stealing office supplies, of all things? Didn’t look like the usual college thief. Was she one of the teacher’s kids? They’d have to come and get her from the Campus Security office. He opened his mouth to ask.
Swiftly, the red-haired child darted around his other side. Ludlow flung the mop away and grabbed for her with both arms. Squealing, she twisted free of his grasp, danced a couple of paces away, and pointed a hand at him.
Ludlow started after her, but found he was restrained by his belt, which was attached to the retractable key ring. The supply room door key, on the end of its tether, was still inserted in the doorknob. He pulled at it, but it wouldn’t come free. He shook the knob angrily. The little girl, watching cautiously, started to back away up the corridor, the boxes of pens and paper in her arms. He snatched at the buckle of his belt, seeking to undo it, but unaccountably, the buckle tongue seemed to adhere solidly to the frame. There was no way for him to unfasten it or wriggle out of it.
The child turned around and fled. Ludlow, giving up on the hope of catching up with her, twisted and pulled at the key. It wouldn’t budge. In fact, now it wouldn’t even turn. He attempted again to undo his belt. The buckle held itself fast.
With a groan, Ludlow sat down on the floor, and wondered whether it would be more humiliating to unfasten the hinges and drag the door with him until he could find a way to dislodge his key, or to sit there and wait for someone to come along with a pair of shears and cut him loose from his belt.
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