Salter, Anna C (24 page)

"Well, he hasn't had one since then."

"Most kids play with themselves."

"Not mine."

"You've got to trust me a little bit, Lorraine. There's a big difference in kids doing things you don't like and being a pervert. Does Daniel play with himself around other children or in school or anything like that?"

"Oh, no. I'd have beat the shit out of him if he'd done anything like that."

"Has he done anything sexual with other kids that you know about?"

"My God, no."

"Has anything happened, anything at all to make you concerned about Daniel and sex?"

"You mean before this?"

"Yes."

"No, but this is bad enough."

"Actually, to be honest with you —and I say this knowing you'll find it hard to believe —it isn't."

"It isn't? This isn't bad enough? What are you talking about? If the neighbors had caught him, he could have been arrested."

"Not at six, he couldn't. Lorraine, kids are curious about sex. You may not like it, but it's true. Weren't you? Don't you remember being curious about sex as a kid?"

"Me? I knew more than I ever wanted to know about sex by the time I was six, thanks to my son-of-a-bitching father."

"Well, Daniel doesn't —thanks to the fact that he's had better parenting than you did. He's just curious."

"Well, he shouldn't have been doing it." Some of the wind had gone out of Lorraine's sails, but in her mind she couldn't back down.

"True enough. But normal kids do a lot of things they shouldn't do. It doesn't make them perverts. Look, it's good news. Right? What, you want to be raising a pervert? Or you'd rather be raising a normal kid who gets into stuff he shouldn't?"

There was silence. I probably didn't entirely persuade her, but on the other hand at least she calmed down. Later, she even looked a little sheepish when she faced Daniel in the waiting room. Lorraine called her children every name in the book when she was upset, but when she calmed down, she was usually sorry. There were even times she apologized, which wasn't nearly as good as not doing it in the first place.

I didn't get that much time with Daniel; I spent most of my time calming Lorraine down and getting her to see that, maybe, she was a bit sensitive about sex, and, just maybe, it had more to do with her father than Daniel. All I could really do for Daniel was to reassure him. By the time they left, they were in better shape than when they came, but it wouldn't last.

As Lorraine opened the door to leave, Camille came in with Keeter. Lorraine and Daniel backed up and gave Keeter a wide berth. I had to smile. Ordinarily Daniel was overly friendly with animals, but this was one time his mother didn't have to tell him not to pet a strange dog. Daniel had better sense than his mother gave him credit for.

I wasn't sure what to expect with Camille. We hadn't had much chance to talk last night. Was she relieved to know that it was Willy and not the kidnapper who was after her, or would it frighten her all the more that there were two sadists out there? It didn't help, of course, that Willy hadn't been caught.

Camille came in and started to sit down. Daniel's toy was still on the couch, and she handed it to me before she sat down. I put it on the floor beside me. It was probably all right that they left it. I didn't think Daniel was going to get to play with it for a while, and it would just remind Lorraine of his "pervertedness."

Keeter took up her usual stance, lying between me and Camille, although she did look bored, which I took as a positive comment on our relationship.

"How do you feel?" I asked, looking closely at Camille. She didn't really look any better: same dark circles under her eyes, same fearful glancing at the windows. I realized I was holding my breath while I waited for her answer.

"I don't know," she said, slowly. "I guess I'm relieved you believe me. Nothing else has really changed. I knew he was out there."

"You mean Willy?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "I never had a name before. I think that helps a little."

I paused a minute. What was wrong with this picture? "Camille, I'm confused," I admitted. "Are you talking about Willy or the guy who kidnapped you?"

Now Camille looked confused. "What do you mean? It's the same. Didn't you know that?"

I most certainly did not know that, and there was something very wrong with that idea. Why did she think they were the same person? I glanced down as I thought and noticed the toy on the floor. Hell of a thing. How did he peep with that thing, anyway? Was it infrared? Then I froze. Was I seeing what I thought I was?

I reached over and picked it up slowly. There was the radar-looking dish with the joystick. And there were wires. I followed them to a set of earphones and put them on. I turned the dish around and pointed it at Keeter. I clicked the joystick, and suddenly the sound of Keeter licking her paw filled my earphones. I stood up slowly and did it again. Keeter had stopped licking her paw and looked up at me curiously. In the earphones, her breathing sounded like the ocean's roar. Daniel hadn't been peeping; he had been eavesdropping.

Camille was staring at me, but it didn't seem important. I walked around behind my chair and tried the toy again. Nothing. "Line-of-sight," I said out loud. "Son-of-a-bitch."

No wonder. No wonder I couldn't find a bug. I headed straight for the windows and looked up. There was nothing facing the side window, but the front windows were across the street from a church, and there was one window that looked straight down, line-of-sight, on my window.

I pointed the toy up to the window and squeezed the button. Nothing. Maybe nobody was up there now. Or maybe I just had a toy version of this thing, and the range wasn't that far. But if there was a toy version of this thing, there was a real version of this thing. "Son-of-a-bitch," was all I could say. I had wondered about Willy planting a tape and just leaving it. It wasn't like Willy not to stay around for the suffering. Well, he had.

I headed for the door. "I've got to go," I managed to say, and then I caught myself at the door and stopped. I suddenly had the feeling of hands around my throat so distinctly I could hardly breathe. The last time I had run off on my own, it had turned out badly. Who says I can't learn? All it takes is strangling me.

I turned around. I needed to get my fanny pack—but I realized I couldn't. The fanny pack was in the car trunk. If I went outside and took it out of the car trunk, Willy could see me. The goddamn car was sitting in the driveway in full sight of the church. Getting a fanny pack out of a car trunk in the middle of a therapy session would tip off somebody a lot dumber than Willy.

I took a deep breath: I'd just have to push through this. I turned around —I needed to tell Camille something to explain my crazy behavior—when I caught sight of the window. I walked over and pulled the shades down. Line-of-sight. All I had needed to do was pull the shades down. Willy had never teased me about Danny because the shades had been down and he hadn't been able to listen in. He never knew he'd been there.

I picked up the cordless phone and handed it to Camille. "I'm sorry, Camille," I said. "I really have to go, but I'll be back. If I'm not back, if you hear anything, call 911." Camille looked totally appalled. She just looked at me. I waited, but she didn't speak. I turned and headed for the door.

She found her voice. "Wait," she said. "He's out there, isn't he?"

"Yes," I said.

"You're going looking for him," she said with pure disbelief in her voice.

"Yes."

There was silence, and I started to move again when Camille spoke. "Take Keeter," she said. "Don't go alone." I turned, and she was holding out the lead. Her chin and her hand were both quivering, but still she held it out. Jesus, the courage that took.

I looked at Keeter. She looked like a big comfort right now. I crossed the room and took the lead. Keeter stood up and looked at Camille and looked at me. Would she go with me?

"Keeter," I said forcefully, "I don't have time to screw around, so let's go." I started to move, but Keeter didn't. She just Stood there looking at Camille. Camille made a hand signal, and Keeter turned and trotted after me, looking excited. The leash fell slack as she automatically heeled. Clearly, something was up, and Keeter seemed to like it more than just sitting around.

I ran from the waiting room into the living part of Carlotta's house and out the back door. Keeter trotted beside me quietly. I crossed several backyards and then took a chance and crossed the street half a block down from my office. I walked through backyards all the way and came up to the back door of the church across the street from my office. Keeter was still heeling even though I hadn't asked her to. She seemed focused and intent, but she had a look that said lunch was about to be served.

The back door of the church was unlocked, and I just walked in. The building was silent. Weekdays, probably there weren't a lot of people around. I crossed the main chapel to the front of the church and found the stairs going up. I went up to the second floor and walked into what looked like the minister's office. I was glad he wasn't there. It was easier not having to explain, and besides, I didn't want anybody to know someone had been spying on my clients.

I looked out the window in his office, but the shrubs that partially covered my office windows blocked the view. Why didn't I think to notice how far up that window was? I headed back for the stairs and went up to the third floor.

Then I found it: a large room overlooking my office with nothing in it but some cardboard storage boxes. The light in the room was dim, the blind on the one window was pulled most of the way down, and the lights were off. I walked over to the window and knelt down to see under the blind. I didn't touch anything. This was a crime scene, and I didn't want to contaminate evidence.

But even peeping under the blind I could tell it was a perfect line-of-sight bead on my office window. And it looked like you could hang out here forever and no one was likely to know.

The room was empty. So maybe Willy knew the police were after him and he had fled. Whatever. But this was it. The son-of-a-bitch had sat in this empty, dark room and listened in on God knows how many therapy sessions. And all my sweeping for bugs had done exactly nothing because there had never been a bug to sweep for in the first place. What was he going to do, harass all my clients, or did he just pick Camille because she was the most vulnerable? Jesus, what had I done to my clients by keeping my practice open? Had he recorded them?

I walked around the room looking for signs of Willy and trying to sort things out. Wendy and the lost boys. I was wrong. He hadn't been taunting me with kids he was going to molest. Wendy took care of her siblings and the lost boys. Peter Pan had showed up to lead everybody off to fantasyland. No doubt, he had cast me as Wendy, taking care of my grownup charges, while he saw himself as Peter Pan, trying to lure them away—although his idea of fantasyland was a little different from Peter Pan's.

I had dropped the lead to let Keeter look around. She was sniffing around the boxes, and I noticed the hair on the back of her neck was standing up. She was smelling something and seemed to recognize it. Probably she recognized Willy's smell from Camille's bedroom. He had to get in there sometime to plant the tape recorder. His smell would have still been there when Keeter got back, and she wouldn't have liked it: an intruder in her space.

Keeter walked behind some boxes stacked in front of the window, and I lost sight of her. No doubt that was where Willy had sat or knelt or something, since it was directly in front of the window.

I decided to join her to see if I could find evidence someone had been there —the dust on the windowsill might be disturbed—when I heard sounds on the stairs. Oh, my God. Let it be the minister. But I knew it wasn't. I knew instantly it was Willy. He was just late, that was all, but he was coming to listen in.

There was time. I could hide. But I couldn't. I couldn't stand crouching down waiting to be caught. I just stood thc.ni: What else could I do?

Willy's shadow preceded him, which didn't help my nerves any. He came around the corner with something that looked like a large camera bag slung over his shoulder. He looked startled when he saw me, and then he grinned. He put both his arms on the sides of the door, pretty much filling the door frame.

Neither of us spoke for a moment in the dim light. Funny, I didn't realize he was so big. I knew he was portly, but I thought he was medium-sized. Belatedly I realized that an average male was still taller than me at five-seven. And being a wide-body counts when there is only one door.

"Well, well, well," he said. "Clever girl. I do underrate you at times. You must grant it was quite an aesthetic little number. A rather elegant way to get to you, don't you think? I set myself a challenge: What kind of havoc could I wreak without laying a finger on am^one?"

Willy dropped his arms from the door frame and patted his portly belly. It was an oddly incongruous gesture: it seemed so normal. His tone—his gestures —he could have been discussing the weather, only he wasn't.

"I see you came alone. How nice. I was just thinking of you and how we might continue our little tete-a-tete in a more intimate way. To be honest, I was tiring of all these silly technological toys. Too esoteric. Too . . . bloodless, shall we say. How thoughtful of you to solve my little dilemma."

"Give it up, Willy," I said firmly. "The police know all about you. We found your tape recording. They're waiting for you now at Camille's." My voice sounded better than I expected. Not great, but at least I didn't squeak.

"Beside the point," Willy answered. "Given we're not there." If he hadn't known they were looking for him, he covered it well.

"Fortunately," he went on, "my motto is 'Be prepared,' a hangover from my days as a scout leader." He opened the bag over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving me. He carefully took out what looked like a larger version of the toy radar dish and put it aside on the top of a box. He reached back into the bag.

"Did you know you can torture someone in complete silence? Oh, yes. It's just a little more complicated. You have to be careful with the gags and all that. Not that it's as satisfying as actually hearing the moaning. I personally prefer the way the moaning deepens as the pain grows. But one does what one can." He sighed, then he reached into the bag and pulled out a small .45 with a silencer.