Brain

Chapter 2

Mr. and Mrs. Wilbur Collins supported each other while they waited for the door to be opened. At first the key wouldn't go into the lock, and the superintendent pulled it out and examined it to make sure it was the key to 92. He tried it again, realizing he'd had it upside down. The door opened and he moved aside to allow the Women's Dean of the university to step inside.

"Cute apartment," said the Dean. She was a petite woman, about fifty with very nervous and quick gestures. It was apparent she felt under pressure.

Mr. and Mrs. Wilbur Collins and two uniformed New York City policemen followed the Dean into the room.

It was a small one bedroom apartment, advertised to have a river view. It did, but only from a tiny window in the closet-like bathroom. The two policemen stood aside with their hands clasped behind their backs. Mrs. Collins, a fifty-two-year-old woman, hesitated near the entrance as if she were afraid of what she might find. Mr. Collins, on the other hand, limped directly to the center of the room. He'd had polio in 1952 and it had affected his right lower leg, but not his shrewd ability in business. At fifty-five he was the number two man in the First National City Bank of Boston empire. He was a man who demanded action and respect.

"Since it's been only a week," offered the Dean, "maybe your concern is premature."

"We never should have allowed Katherine to come to New York," said Mrs. Collins., fidgeting with her hands.

Mr. Collins ignored both comments. He headed for the bedroom and looked in. "Her suitcase is on the bed."

"That's a good sign," said the Dean. "A lot of students react to pressure by leaving school for a few days."

"If Katherine had left, she would have taken her suitcase," said Mrs. Collins. "Besides, she would have called us on Sunday. She always calls us on Sunday."

"As Dean, I know how many students suddenly need a breather, even good students like Katherine."

"Katherine is different," said Mr. Collins disappearing into the bathroom.

The Dean rolled her eyes for the benefit of the policeman, who remained impassive.

Mr. Collins limped back into the living room. "She didn't go anyplace," he said with finality.

"What do you mean, dear?" asked Mrs. Collins with mounting anxiety.

"Just what I said," returned Mr. Collins. "She wouldn't go anywhere without these." He tossed a half-empty packet of birth control pills onto the seat of the couch. "She's here in New York and I want her found." He looked at the policeman. "Believe me, I intend to see action on this case."