I See You (17 page)

A
fter lunch, Hannah told her supervisor that she wasn’t feeling well, which was certainly true. She said that she needed to go home. Her harried overweight supervisor, a widower named Ward Higgins, had a compassion for people which never seemed to fail. He said that she probably came back to work too soon. ‘You’ve been through an ordeal,’ he said. ‘You need a few days to recover.’

‘Maybe,’ said Hannah, collecting her things and heading for the door. She drove home, almost blindly, unaware of what was happening around her. Luckily, the route home was familiar, and she arrived back at the house without incident.

She hurried inside, avoiding even a glance at Rayanne’s house. She slammed the door and locked it, leaning her back against the door and staring into the depths of the cool, dark house. When she and Adam had bought this house they were so excited to be homeowners with a yard for their little daughter to play in, and a park down the street. Immediately they set about turning their house into a happy home. And they succeeded, Hannah always thought. Years later, when Sydney arrived, unexpectedly, they welcomed their granddaughter in, and tried to make it happy for her also. Hannah felt tears rising to her eyes. Yesterday it had seemed as if their nightmare was over. Until Jamie knocked at the door. And now …

Hannah forced herself to concentrate. She had come home for a reason. Her conversation with Jackie had been sickening, and yet she could not avoid the implications of what her friend had said. There was no use in pretending that she hadn’t heard it, hadn’t understood. Everything that Jackie was saying about female psychopaths rang an uncomfortably familiar bell. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t possible, but she had to know. She didn’t know how she was going to find out but she was going to make a start.

With an effort of will, she pushed herself away from the door and walked down the dimly lit hallway to the door of Lisa’s room. She turned on the overhead light and looked inside. Everything was neat and orderly, as it always was. She had tried never to intrude on her grown daughter’s privacy. After all, she had told herself, it wasn’t as if Lisa had been lying around the house, slothful and unambitious. She was in medical school. Any parent would be proud of that. And the fact that she was single and had a child – that was practically the norm these days. Hannah had always insisted to herself that she had no right to rummage through her daughter’s sanctuary. The other night, she had been appalled to find Adam going through Lisa’s computer. Lisa had not been perfect – in fact, sometimes her behavior had been disturbing and inexplicable to them. But surely she deserved her privacy.

Not any more, Hannah thought. If there was something secret about Lisa’s life, she would find it in there. Cleverly hidden, no doubt. Lisa knew that her father worked with computers at Verizon. She must have known that he could access her information if he wanted to. No, if she had a secret life, the evidence would be somewhere else.

Hannah took a deep breath, preparatory to entering the room. And if there was no secret life, if Jamie had been lying, if this ugly, lurking suspicion which was now weighing on Hannah’s heart had nothing to it, then no one would ever have to know that she had searched through Lisa’s things. She would tell everyone, including Adam and Lisa, that she had come home from work early, feeling ill, and lay down, and that was the end of it. She said a brief prayer that this was exactly what these next hours would bring. She would find nothing. There would be nothing. Nothing but innocence and evidence of Lisa’s hard work. Nothing to make a mother anything but proud. Please God, she thought.

She stepped into the room and looked around. She would start with the desk. The desk, she figured, would not yield any obvious clues. Lisa was too smart for that. But it was the logical place to start. Hannah sat down in the desk chair, and began to search.

The afternoon sun poured through the window, and then began to fade as Hannah went through all of Lisa’s belongings. She looked in every drawer, in every plastic box, on every shelf. She searched relentlessly. It didn’t help that she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. Some evidence of perversion. Some proof that Lisa indulged in evil, callous behavior. Instead, she found medical texts, underlined and annotated, photos of high-school friends acting crazy, and adorable photos of Sydney wearing cute hats and sundresses and Halloween costumes. After several hours, Hannah sat down on Lisa’s bed and looked around the room.

She had tried to put everything back but she knew that there would inevitably be things out of place. When Lisa returned, she would complain bitterly that her mother had been in her room, and how dare she? And, Hannah thought, with a relief bordering on bliss, she would gladly admit her guilt. Say that she was looking for something. She would make something up. What did it matter? It didn’t. This was not the room of a psychopath. A child molester. This room was exactly what it appeared to be – the room of a young mother, a hard-working medical student, her own, wonderful daughter.

Hannah was exhausted but felt better than she had in twenty-four hours. She had not tried to avoid the worst. She had confronted it. And found nothing. I’m sorry, Lisa, she thought. I shouldn’t have doubted you.

She looked at her watch. It was four-thirty. Soon she would need to go and pick up Sydney. She could hardly wait to hold her granddaughter in her arms and cover her with happy kisses. She decided to stop at the cupcake shop which had opened on Briley Parkway before she went. She would buy each of them a cupcake to celebrate, and one for Lisa too. Perhaps she could take it to the county jail and ask them if Lisa could have a little treat.

Hannah closed the door of Lisa’s room, went down the hall to the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water. She misted her hair with the hair product Lisa used, and then she crushed bunches of her hair with her hands, crunching waves into the chin-length haircut. She gave herself an apprehensive glance in the mirror, and then went down the hall to the kitchen where her car and house keys rested in a bowl on the counter by the door. She pulled up a jingling set, and then realized that she had grabbled Lisa’s by mistake. She set them back down in the bowl, and rummaged for her own keychain. And then she stopped. With a sinking feeling, she picked up the first set that she had handled and looked at them again.

There was a car key, a house key and a key for her locker at work. They had all been here in the bowl, ever since Lisa lost her freedom on bail. But dangling them before her troubled gaze now, Hannah saw that there was another key on the chain. A new key which she had never noticed before.

Hannah pressed the unfamiliar key into her own palm and stared at it. It looked familiar, and she struggled to place it. She frowned at it, willing herself to recall where she had seen a key like this before. Stop it, she told herself. What difference does it make? It’s just a key. It could be for anything. But somehow she knew better. And then she remembered. Before she moved to the Veranda, but after she was starting to lose her strength and her balance, Pamela used to have a post-office box, and Hannah would often fetch her mother’s mail for her. This was the kind of key that opened her P.O. box.

The key seemed to weigh down her palm. She took a deep breath, trying to decide. She had gone this far. She might as well satisfy her curiosity. She passed their local branch of the P.O. on her way to the cupcake shop. She could stop in on her way, ask to see the box and settle the matter, for once and for all. She slipped the keys into her pocket, grabbed her own set from the bowl and let herself out.

Rayanne was out in the backyard watering the flowers. She gave Hannah a cheery wave, and Hannah realized immediately that Jamie had been as good as his word. He had not mentioned that story about Lisa and his young cousins to his mother. Rayanne did not blush or shrink from Hannah, or act any differently at all, as she surely would have had she heard that story. He had kept it to himself, like he said.

Hannah waved back but did not stop. She got into her car, and pulled out of the driveway with a feeling of relief. She stopped at the local P.O. where they had done business for the seventeen years they had lived at the same address. Hannah waited in a short line for a postal clerk whom she did not recognize.

Hannah showed him the key. ‘This is the key to my daughter’s P.O. box. She’s … not able to pick up her mail, so I thought I would pick it up for her. But I’ve forgotten the number. Could you just find that out for me?’

The clerk frowned at Hannah. ‘Are you authorized to use the box? Is your name on it?’

‘No,’ said Hannah airily. ‘But I thought since I was here …’

‘No, I’m sorry, ma’am,’ he said. ‘You have to be an authorized user to access the box.’

Hannah realized that this was more complicated than it seemed. ‘Is the postmaster here?’ she asked.

The clerk nodded. ‘I think he’s in the back.’

‘Could you get him for me, please,’ said Hannah.

The clerk pushed an intercom button and called for Darren Billings. Then he said politely, ‘Would you mind stepping to one side so I can serve the next customer.’

‘Certainly,’ said Hannah, stiffly moving over to stand by the door which led to the inner workings of the branch. She felt embarrassed, as if the clerk had caught her trying to do something illegal. At least she knew that she would not be treated that way by Darren Billings. In a few moments the door opened, and a bald, middle-aged black man with a gray goatee and half-glasses looked out and scanned the lobby. He smiled broadly when he saw Hannah. ‘Hey, Hannah, how are ya?’

They shook hands warmly, and Hannah hoped that the postal clerk had noticed her personal greeting from the postmaster. Busy with the next customer, he did not seem to be paying attention. ‘Hi, Darren,’ Hannah said. Darren had been their letter carrier when they first moved to the house in Nashville, and he and Adam had bonded over many conversations about the Tennessee Titans in the mornings when he delivered the mail. Darren had since moved up to become the postmaster of this local branch, but they had always maintained their friendly relationship. When Darren’s oldest son applied for a job at Verizon, Adam introduced him at the office and gave him a recommendation.

‘What can I do for you, dearie?’ Darren asked.

Hannah took a deep breath and held up the key. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard about Lisa. The trial and all …’

Darren grimaced. ‘I do know about it,’ he said kindly. ‘I’m so sorry …’

‘It’s all right,’ said Hannah. ‘But she needs for me to collect her mail while she is … incarcerated. I brought this key but I don’t have her box number. And, obviously, I can’t just call her up whenever I please at the jail, so I thought I’d just come down and get the number from you.’

Darren took the key from Hannah, and frowned at it. ‘Well, actually, if you’re not an authorized user …’

‘That’s what the clerk said. But you know me, Darren …’

‘Hannah, I’d love to help you but I couldn’t even if I wanted to.’

‘Oh, come on, Darren. Can’t you bend the rules? We’ve known each other for how long?’

‘It’s not that. You see, this key is not for a box in this branch.’

‘It’s not?’ said Hannah, taken aback.

Darren shook his head. ‘Nope. This serial number here on the key is the code for another branch.’ He lowered his voice. ‘The branch by Vanderbilt, actually.’

Hannah felt her hopes sinking. ‘I guess she forgot to mention that,’ she said, trying to cover her embarrassment.

Darren peered at her. ‘The fact is no one’s going to give you the box number if you’re not an authorized user. Can you ask Lisa to add you? I have a form you could bring to her to fill out.’

Hannah avoided his gaze. ‘No. I’m afraid … Darren, I have to be honest with you. No. There are reasons why that would not be … likely to happen.’

‘I see,’ he said.

Hannah glanced at him, her face flaming, expecting to see disapprobation in his eyes. Instead, he was frowning at the key.

‘The only way …’ he said slowly.

Hannah watched him warily.

‘Well, legally, we’re not allowed to disclose that number. So the only way that you can get it, if you don’t already have it, is, for example, if you are serving legal papers on someone, you can fill out a form at the branch, and they will give you the box number so you can mail them, and thereby serve them those legal papers. Do you understand?’

Hannah’s eyes widened. He knows, she thought. He understands that I need to get into the box without asking Lisa for the number. And he is trying to help me do just that. ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘Rather than, say, showing somebody the key …’

‘Nobody can give you that number so that you can use the key on the box. The only way a person can get that number …’

Hannah nodded. ‘Is if a person can demonstrate that they have something which needs to go into the box. Legal papers to serve, for example.’

‘That’s right,’ said Darren.

‘I understand,’ said Hannah.

‘I hope that might help.’

Hannah squeezed his forearm. ‘Thank you, Darren.’

Darren put his hand over hers and patted it. ‘I wish I could do more.’

Hannah nodded, and had to fight back tears. ‘Give my best to your family.’

She rushed from the post office, and went back to her car. She sat behind the wheel, clutching the key, trying to decide what to do next.

H
annah left the post office, rushed to buy the cupcakes and picked up Sydney. They watered the garden after they arrived home and had their cupcakes in the backyard. Hannah tried not to let the child see how distracted she was. After they came inside, Sydney, who was tired from daycare, sat quietly in the living room, playing with her stuffed animals while her grandmother started supper. Then the phone rang. Hannah rushed to answer it.

‘What happened to you?’ Lisa demanded when she heard her mother’s voice. ‘You haven’t come to visit. Are you gonna leave me all alone here for the next two months?’

‘I’m sorry, Lisa. I’ve been so … busy.’

‘You sound … strange,’ said Lisa accusingly.

‘Do I? I’m sorry. How are things going for you there?’

‘Oh, terrific, Mom. I got elected social chairman of cell-block ten.’

Hannah did not reply. She was thinking about Jamie’s accusations, and the mysterious key to the post-office box.

‘That was a joke, Mother.’

‘I know it was, darling. Forgive me.’

‘What’s going on? You’re as faithful as a St Bernard. How come you didn’t come by? Don’t say you’re too busy. I don’t believe you.’

A St Bernard? Hannah thought. Is that how I seem to her? We’ll see about that. ‘I’m too tired, all right,’ said Hannah in a snappish tone. ‘Just too tired.’

Lisa was quiet for a moment, and Hannah felt like she could sense her daughter calculating what to say next. Finally Lisa said ruefully, ‘I thought I could always count on my mother, no matter what.’

‘Have I ever let you down?’ Hannah asked coldly.

Lisa was silent. Then she said, in an equally cold voice, ‘I have to go. Sorry I bothered you.’

Instantly, automatically, Hannah felt guilty, felt regretful. ‘I’ll try to come tomorrow,’ she said.

‘Don’t go out of your way,’ said Lisa, hanging up.

After a few moments of sitting, staring at her cheerful granddaughter, Hannah got up with a heavy heart and finished making dinner. Adam came in just as she was putting it on the table, and kissed her on her forehead. ‘Smells good,’ he said. ‘Can’t wait.’

Hannah said little during dinner, despite his questions. Afterwards, he offered to clean up while Hannah bathed Sydney and put her to bed. When she came back into the living room, he was sitting in the corner of the sofa, waiting for her. He had not turned on the television.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked. ‘Are you just tired from work?’

Hannah shook her head, and sat down opposite him.

‘What then?’

‘I came home from work early,’ she said, choosing her words carefully. ‘I had lunch with my friend Jackie, and while we were talking, I had this brainstorm. Very casually, I offered her a hypothetical situation. I said that I had a female client who was accused of sexually abusing her children. I asked Jackie if she had ever heard of that. Jackie said that she had, but only when the woman in question was a psychopath.’

Adam frowned at her. ‘Psychopath? You mean like a serial killer.’

‘No,’ Hannah insisted. ‘That’s just it. People think that’s what it means. Actually a psychopath is someone whose internal gyroscope doesn’t work when it comes to choosing right from wrong. They have – what were her exact words – a lack of moral restraint.’

Adam and Hannah stared at one another for a moment without speaking. ‘And you think …’ he said.

‘It struck a chord in me … what Jackie said.’

Adam did not protest, or contradict her. Hannah felt, with a sickening certainty, that he too recognized these symptoms. ‘So,’ she said, ‘I came home and I searched through all of Lisa’s things.’

‘What were you looking for?’

‘I didn’t even know. Something, anything that would give us proof, one way or the other.’

‘And you found …?’

‘In her room, I found nothing. Everything was in order. I was telling myself that I had become hysterical for no reason. I was actually full of hope. And then I found this,’ said Hannah, holding up the key.

Adam frowned. ‘What is it?’

Hannah turned the key over in her palm and studied it. ‘It’s a key to a post-office box. I finally recognized it ’cause I used one when I went to get Mother’s mail for her. So, I took the key, and went down to our branch and had a talk with Darren. He said it wasn’t from a box there. It’s a key to a box at the Vanderbilt branch. He said that they could not open it for us unless we were authorized.’

‘Of course not,’ said Adam. ‘This is why post-office boxes still exist in this internet age. It’s privacy, guaranteed. People carry on clandestine affairs, or run illegal businesses out of them.’

‘We have to know what’s in that box.’

Adam stared at her, not replying.

‘If she has something to hide she’s too smart to leave it on her computer. She knows how computer literate you are. She wouldn’t do that.’

‘I suppose not,’ Adam admitted. ‘But what exactly do you expect to find?’

‘I don’t know,’ Hannah admitted, feeling suddenly exhausted. ‘I just know that I have to find out.’

‘So how can we do that?’ he asked calmly.

She gave him a grateful glance. He understood. ‘I asked Darren. He said if someone had legal papers that had to be served on Lisa, they could get the box number so that the papers could be delivered.’

‘Legal papers,’ Adam asked. ‘You mean, like, her lawyer.’

‘Anyone with legal papers,’ said Hannah. ‘They don’t have to know what the papers are.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Adam. ‘How would that help us?’

‘One of us goes in and gets the number, thanks to the legal paperwork. Then we have the box number. The other one goes in and opens the box. With this key.’

Adam looked at her, almost admiringly. ‘You have a devious mind.’

‘I got it from dealing with my daughter,’ she said grimly.

Adam frowned. ‘This sounds so … desperate.’

‘I am desperate,’ said Hannah flatly.

Adam nodded. ‘I understand. I have some user agreements in my desk that look very official.’

‘Thank you,’ she said.

Adam shook his head. ‘Don’t thank me. We may regret this.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ said Hannah.

‘We’ll do it in the morning,’ he said.

They gazed into one another’s eyes, conscious that they were both willing to go to any lengths to discover the truth. ‘Tomorrow,’ she said, and he nodded.

The next morning, they dropped Sydney at daycare. Then they went home to prepare. Hannah found a legal documents envelope from social services in her desk. Adam gathered up some paperwork, and they put their official-looking package together.

Adam put on a suit, and stood looking at himself in the mirror as he tied his tie. ‘Do I look like an attorney?’ he asked.

Hannah nodded. ‘Maybe it’s nothing. We can go visit her this afternoon and make it up to her for thinking badly of her.’

‘Nothing would please me more,’ Adam said, unsmiling, smoothing his tie down over his shirt. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

They didn’t speak as they drove to the Vanderbilt post office. Adam picked up the envelope and got out of the car. ‘Wish me luck,’ he said.

Hannah nodded, and he rapped on the outside car-door frame before he walked across the street and into the post office. She sat waiting for him, watching the world go by. She had driven Lisa over here to the university when she was getting ready to apply, many times when she was an undergraduate, and then again, when she decided to apply to medical school. She remembered Lisa sitting nervously in the passenger seat, looking like a child playing dress-up in her business suit, when she went for her interviews. Hannah remembered how proud she had been of her brilliant daughter, who wasn’t about to let her extreme youth, or motherhood, or anything else get in the way of her goal to be a doctor.

Please God, she whispered to herself, closing her eyes in prayer. Let it be nothing. Let this all be nothing.

The driver’s door opened, and Hannah started, and opened her eyes. Adam slipped into the driver’s seat. He was no longer carrying the envelope. ‘Seven hundred and eighty-five,’ he said.

Hannah pressed her lips together, and ran a finger over the key which she held tightly in the palm of her hand. ‘Seven hundred and eighty-five. Got it,’ she whispered.

It was Hannah’s turn to get out of the car. She waited for the traffic to pass, her heart thudding, and then she crossed the street and walked up the steps to the post office. She went inside the busy branch. People were coming and going, doing business at the window and filling out forms at the tables scattered around the lobby. She forced herself to look calm and walk slowly. She went over to the bank of post-office boxes and scanned the numbers. She found 785 and inserted the key. The door clicked and swung open when she tugged at the key.

Inside was a handful of letter-sized envelopes. Hannah reached in and pulled them out. She was tempted to tear them open right then and there, but she knew better. She jammed the letters into her shoulder bag, and relocked the box. Then she headed back out into the morning sunshine, her heart heavy with dread.

They did not speak on the way home. Without having to discuss it aloud, they simply drove home and slipped into the house.

‘Do you want coffee?’ Hannah asked.

Adam shook his head.

‘Me neither,’ Hannah whispered. She followed her husband into the living room, and sat down beside him on the sofa. She pulled the envelopes from her bag, and put them on the coffee table. They both stared at the results of their deception.

All of the letters were for Lisa. Some were handwritten, some were addressed on a computer. The return addresses were from all parts of the country, as far away as California.

‘Maybe she’s into pen pals,’ said Adam.

Hannah did not even smile. ‘Do you want to open them, or shall I?’

In response, Adam sighed and picked one up. Its return address was Alabama, a town only a few hours away. Adam ran his finger under the flap and opened it. He pulled out a sheet of paper, and a photograph fell out and landed on the coffee table. It was an ordinary-looking man of about forty, slightly overweight, wearing a hunter’s cap and camouflage, and holding a rifle.

A man sending his photo? Suddenly, Hannah wondered if all this imagined secrecy had simply been because Lisa was a little sheepish about having joined a dating service. Her heart lifted with hope.

Adam unfolded the paper and began to read. Hannah watched his face. His expression, studiously noncommittal at first, began to change. His eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open. Suddenly, he groaned. ‘Oh my God,’ he said, crushing the letter in his fist. ‘Oh, Jesus.’

‘Let me see,’ she said, prying the wadded piece of paper from his fingers.

‘Oh, Hannah,’ he said shaking his head. There were tears in his eyes. ‘Don’t even look.’

Hannah ignored his warning and began to read.

‘Dear Lisa,’ it read, ‘I received your response to my ad in the THFLG newsletter. I am so excited to meet you and your little princess, Sydney. You are a couple of beauties. I promise you that I will give her a first time that none of us will ever forget. I appreciate that you want this to be a special experience for her, and for yourself. I will be gentle and firm as I show that little angel the delights of a grown man’s love. The three of us can meet at my hunting cabin, time to be determined, for a weekend to remember. I am enclosing a photo of myself, as you requested. I also have the paperwork from the lab which will prove to you that I am disease-free, and will give you a copy when we meet. In answer to your other question, I go about seven to eight inches, fully erect. I know it’s a lot for a little girl to handle but with you to guide me, all will be well.

‘In closing, let me say, Thank Heaven for Little Girls forever!

‘Yours sincerely …’

Hannah let out a cry, fainted, and slid off the couch, gashing her head on the coffee table as she fell.