Lost Innocents (28 page)

“How dare you be so high and mighty? You’re just a hired gun. You’re not supposed to be judging me!” Doug cried indignantly.

“You’re right,” said Charles. “That is not up to me. You can think of this like a peremptory challenge. No reason given. No further debate possible. Good night.”

Without waiting for a reply, Charles turned and headed off to his car in the parking lot. Doug watched him go, feeling paralyzed. It had taken all the indignation he could muster to try to convince Charles Henson to stay with him. And it hadn’t worked.

When he could make his legs move again, Doug started to walk. He walked to his car, got in, and turned on the engine. Automatically he put the car in gear and drove slowly through the parking lot. But when he reached the entrance, he hesitated. Which way to go?

He tried to imagine himself driving home to Maddy, but the look on her face this afternoon made him cringe inside. She had probably changed the locks on the house by now. Amy, of course, would be glad to see him, but he could not face her demands for attention. Kids were exhausting. He knew that Maddy wanted more of them, but he couldn’t figure out why. Their demands were relentless. No, he thought, he couldn’t face it right now.

He turned the car in the other direction and started to drive. He tried to think of a friend he could go to, but try as he might, there was no one. He wondered when he had become so alone. He thought about going to a bar. Much as he would enjoy the oblivion of a few drinks in quick succession, he did not want to get into some inane conversation with a stranger.

If he could be sure that he wouldn’t see anyone he knew, and that the subject would stay strictly on football or hockey, that would be okay. But what if some woman perched on the barstool beside him? Women always wanted to talk about personal things. What would he say when she asked him about his life? That he was a man who had once tasted fame and fortune? That now he was a man with no money, in debt over his head to an attorney? A man who was about to lose his job over a stupid rule about students and teachers, and who was suspected of murder to boot? Yeah, that would clear out the surrounding barstools pretty quick. Still, the idea of a drink was appealing. A few drinks. He drove to a nearby liquor store, parked, and went inside.

The brightly lit store wasn’t bustling, but it wasn’t empty, either. Doug debated for a few moments, then picked out a bottle of vodka. The clerk put it into a brown bag, and Doug carried it out to his car. Now what? he thought. A cloud of despair enveloped him as he sat there, staring at the bag beside him on the seat. His passenger. His companion. Where could a man go to drink in peace? He thought of Binney Park but shook his head. That was all he needed, to be reminded of everything that had happened to him, just because he sat on a park bench and passed the time of day with a pretty girl. What kind of a world was it where that was a crime? They’d had a conversation and shared a package of crackers, and then she’d got up and left with the baby. All right, he had put his arm across the back of the bench and touched her shoulder. That was all he did, just touched her shoulder. Was it his fault she had ended up dead? If she hadn’t been so jumpy when he touched her, she might still be alive. But no, she’d hopped off that bench like it was on fire and left him there feeling embarrassed. All he’d wanted was a little conversation, a little human warmth.

Doug turned on the engine. No, Binney Park was out of the question. Maybe the fort. He could go back up there. He’d have the place to himself at night. Sometimes kids went there to park, but they wouldn’t bother with him. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all he could think of.

Doug turned on the radio and set out. He had planned to wait to have a drink until he got to his destination, but he had a clawing thirst that he didn’t normally feel. He wasn’t much of a drinker, but tonight he craved oblivion. He hesitated for a moment and thought again of going home to Maddy. To try to get her back on his side. To try to make amends. But the thought was almost laughable. Even if she forgave him for one thing, there was another right behind it. Dammit, he didn’t feel like getting down on his knees to her.

In a way, it was her fault, too. Not about the insurance, he admitted. He’d screwed up there, but all he was trying to do was coast for a while, save a little money. That could have happened to anyone. If she insisted on believing he was a murderer, that said more about her than it did about him. A woman was supposed to believe in her husband. The only reason he’d had to turn to young girls in the first place was because she had lost all her appeal. It had happened gradually, after the baby was born. She was so…maternal. She seemed old and serious and full of questions about the future. He needed someone to help him forget all that, not an overbearing female who wanted to put him in a cage and keep him there. Buy a house, have more kids, join the PTA. If sex couldn’t be fun and its own kind of oblivion, what was it for?

Doug shook his head. She had never understood him. Never. He could not remember why he had thought it would be a good idea to get married and have a family. Probably just because he felt the pressure of society. Pressure, pressure, pressure. He was so sick of it. He reached for the brown paper bag, unscrewed the top of the bottle, looked around to be sure that no one was watching him, and then took a swig.

The liquid poured down his throat like a warm sedative, and he immediately felt the pressure on his chest start to lift. He’d never liked the taste of alcohol, but there was no denying the relief it provided. That’s better, he thought. God, that feels better.

He drove in the direction of the fort.

I
t was funny, Maddy thought, how some moments seemed to last for a long time, words hanging suspended in the air, as a person instantly, like a computer, ran through the possibilities, tried to assess the impact of each possible response and which would give them the best chance for survival. Like someone caught in an avalanche, or sucked into a riptide, the adrenaline surged through her. She needed to make the right choice, and make it instantly. The process took place in only a moment, but it seemed infinite, a lifetime in slow motion.

My best chance, she thought, is to pretend I didn’t hear it. Tell
myself
I didn’t hear it, or maybe I misheard it. Whatever. Make
her
believe it.

Maddy tried to force her body to follow her thoughts, not her feelings. Keep her expression impassive, keep her hands from trembling, keep her voice calm. She attempted to look at Bonnie sympathetically. “I’m calling an ambulance. He needs help right away,” she said. Bonnie clambered to her feet and grabbed Maddy’s arm in a viselike grip as she tried to turn away.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Bonnie. “You’re not calling anybody.”

“Let go of my mommy,” Amy cried.

“You shut up,” said Bonnie.

“Mommy, why is she holding you?”

“It’s all right, Amy,” Maddy said. She felt the fear thundering through her. But she couldn’t show it. For Amy’s sake, for her own, for the baby’s. She couldn’t. “Let me go,” she said to Bonnie. “You’re scaring Amy.”

“I don’t care,” Bonnie said defiantly. “You’re all going to do what I say.”

Maddy glanced at Sean, sitting on the floor, whimpering. “Bonnie, I don’t know why you’re doing this.”

“Please. Don’t play stupid,” Bonnie stated. “I know you heard me.”

“Heard you what?” Maddy cried. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re making me angry,” said Bonnie, but she seemed to waver a little. Bonnie tried to size up the situation, wanting to believe, as much as Maddy wanted her to, that her secret was safe. Sean began to wail on the floor, and Maddy looked over at him. Bonnie kept her gaze trained on Maddy.

“Don’t you think you’d better see to him?” Maddy asked.

“Stop telling me how to take care of my kid,” Bonnie said, and Maddy felt a flicker of hope. It was working. Bonnie was resuming the fiction.

“I’m sorry,” said Maddy, keeping her tone unconcerned. “I do that, don’t I? It’s a bad habit of mine.”

Suddenly, from the direction of the floor, a weak voice said, “Bonnie, why did you say that? Why did you say he wasn’t ours?”

Both women turned and looked at the man who had pulled himself up to a sitting position on the floor, his back against a bureau drawer. Maddy felt all the hope drain out of her as Bonnie stared at her husband. It was no use, she realized. Bonnie was not an actress. She was not subtle. She was a heavy-handed person. She must have applied that heavy hand to the head of Rebecca Starnes to get this baby. Maddy flinched at the thought of that innocent young girl, doing a little baby-sitting for some pocket money, never having a reason to suspect that it would lead her to her death.

Then again, why was Terry asking these questions? Hadn’t he been in on it? Maddy’s mind raced. She could see that Terry really thought the baby was his. Suddenly Maddy remembered Father Nick’s words, the words that had convinced her that the Lewises were on the up and up. He had baptized Sean. Father Nick would never lie about that.

Well then, it couldn’t be Justin Wallace, could it? Hope returned once again. Maddy’s mind bounced around other possibilities. Maybe Bonnie had adopted the baby and not told Terry. That wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Maybe they would quarrel over it, but it was no cause for mayhem.

“Bonnie?” Terry asked again, then he grimaced and let out a yelp of pain. But he was determined to get an answer. “Why did you say it? Sean is our baby.”

Bonnie stared at her husband, her eyes large and the whites showing behind her glasses. “I didn’t mean it,” she said.

Suddenly Terry tried to get to his feet. “Did you sleep with someone else?” he demanded.

Bonnie shook her head fearfully. “No. No. Never,” she pleaded. “Only you.” She let go of Maddy and rushed to his side. “Believe me, darling. I would never.”

“Then why did you say it?” he whispered.

“It was a mistake,” Bonnie said miserably. “I don’t know why I said it.”

Maddy rubbed her arm where Bonnie had gripped it. She was sure that Bonnie was lying. No mother, no matter how indifferent, would deny her child. There was no mistake, but there was something that Terry didn’t know.

“Don’t lie to me,” Terry threatened her. Maddy saw a menacing hint of the man who had weathered years in prison. “I heard what you said.”

“Bonnie,” Maddy tried to say as gently as possible, “did you adopt Sean? Is he a foster child?”

Bonnie whirled around and glared at her. “You keep out of this!” she shouted. Sean was crying loudly now, and Maddy had to resist the urge to go and pick him up. Amy clung to her leg, pale and silent.

Terry shook his head. “She was pregnant,” he insisted. “That’s why we got married.”

“That’s not the only reason,” Bonnie protested.

“Save your strength,” Maddy interrupted, trying to derail his insistent curiosity. She didn’t want to hear any more. The more she heard, the deeper into danger she would slip. “You need to get to a hospital right away. You can talk about this later.”

Terry stared at his wife. “You told me you were pregnant. And I figured it was God’s will and his plan that I marry the woman who was bearing my son.”

“Don’t say it like that. We were in love,” Bonnie said. There were tears in her eyes.

“Bonnie, you’re being childish,” he chided her. “You knew my feelings. I wrote you many letters about it. About my new purpose—about doing God’s will.”

“But you signed them ‘love,’ ” Bonnie whimpered.

“Now you’re telling me,” he breathed, his eyes closing in pain, “that this is not my son.”

Maddy knew he was right, that Bonnie was lying about something, but she didn’t know or care what. All she wanted was to get these people out of here. Now. And here was her chance. “Bonnie,” she said sternly, “can’t this wait? Terry needs help, right now.”

Bonnie did not look up or even seem to hear her. She gripped her husband’s arm and began to shake him. “You said you loved me. You told me so. You said we would be together forever. That wasn’t just because of the baby. That was because you loved me. Only me. I know you did.”

Terry did not open his eyes. “If he is not my son, then you are not my wife,” he muttered. He leaned against the bureau and back down to a sitting position.

Bonnie began to sob. “That’s not fair.”

Maddy almost felt sorry for her, so complete was her misery. This plain, lonely woman had wanted to believe in her Cinderella story. She had clung to it, and now the truth was being slapped in front of her.

Amy tugged at her mother’s trouser leg. “Why is she crying, Mom?” she asked.

“She’s upset, honey,” said Maddy. “You go to your room.”

“Why is Sean crying?”

“They have to leave,” said Maddy, trying to think of something quickly. “He doesn’t want to leave.”

“Can’t take Big Bird,” said Amy with determination.

“No, no, he won’t,” Maddy said absently.

“He will. It’s in the bag. I saw him. He’s taking it.”

“Amy, stop it,” Maddy cried.

“He can’t take it,” the child insisted, stomping her feet. “I’m getting it. It’s in there. I’m getting it.”

The diaper bag that Bonnie always carried sat on the floor beside her where she had set it down when she walked in. Big Bird’s foot was visible, sticking out of the top. Before Maddy realized what Amy was doing, the child marched over to it and rifled through it, trying to free the toy.

“Amy, don’t,” Maddy scolded, but the child had hold of her stuffed animal’s leg and was tugging. As she pulled the fluffy yellow head free from the bottom of the bag, a flash of red caught Maddy’s eye. She had heard about it before on the news, a hundred times. Whenever they showed those photos of the curly-headed Justin they always mentioned that he was wearing a hand-knit red sweater with a Dalmatian embroidered on the front. Amy let out a triumphant crow and embraced Big Bird as Maddy stared at the red sweater, lying in a heap on the floor, the Dalmatian on the pocket looking back at her with a cocked head and a whimsical look in his eye.

Bonnie, seeing the look on Maddy’s face, gazed down at the red sweater and the diaper bag she had guarded so carefully. She sighed almost wistfully, then looked back at Maddy. “I should have thrown it away,” she said. “But it was in perfect condition.”