"What do you want?" I asked sharply.
"I want to talk to you, Mr. Cameron," Bob Jenkins said in a low, tight voice.
"You're not supposed to be back here in the stacks."
"I told them I had to see you."
Of course, I thought. The librarians were reasonable people. How could they know why Jenkins had to see me? Why should they be suspicious? If he had talked to them.
Jenkins stepped forward and I saw the hard crease of his mouth, the snap of anger in narrow blue eyes. At that moment, we both heard the rapid tattoo of a woman's steps on a ladder nearby. Jenkins spun around. Bustling movement went along a nearby aisle, going away from us. When Jenkins swung back, he seemed to have relaxed slightly, though his face was still coldly unfriendly.
"Leave her alone!" he said harshly.
I gaped at him in pure astonishment.
"You know who I mean. Laurie! I know she went to your place last night."
"That—that was about a term paper assignment," I stammered.