Race-walking the width of the room, back again, another circuit.
“Picture this, Doctor: you put all that into another human being, entrust them to someone they’ve known their whole life. Someone you’ve done favors for, and what are you asking? Tutoring, stupid tutoring, because the kid’s smart but numbers have a way—math—just math, not another goddamn thing. And then you walk in and find that person with—with your treasure, this treasure you’ve wrought, and they’ve shattered it… by the pool, the goddamn pool. And where are the math books? Where’s the tutoring? Getting wet on the deck next to the pool while they—wet swimsuits lying all wrinkled—oh that would be just great with you, wouldn’t it? You’d let that pass, right?”
“Was it the first time?” I said.
“Joanne claimed it was—Becky did, too, but they were both lying. I can’t blame Becky for that, she was ashamed—no, it wasn’t the first time, I could tell it wasn’t. Because it explained all sorts of things. A little girl who used to talk to me, who after she turned sixteen and started getting tutored didn’t talk to me anymore. A little girl who’d suddenly cry for no good reason, leave the house, not tell us where she was going—her grades started to drop, even with the tutoring—she was sixteen, Alex, and that bitch raped her! For all I know it had gone on for years.”
“After you found them you never talked to Becky about it?”
“No point. She needed to heal, not be shamed.”
More pacing.
“And don’t get that accusatory tone. I know the law and no, I didn’t report it to the so-called authorities,'” she said. “What would that have accomplished? The law’s
an ass, believe me, I sit out there and listen to it bray every goddamn day.”
“And Bob?”
“Bob hates Joanne because he thinks she refused to keep on tutoring Becky and that’s why Becky flunked math and won’t be able to get into a good college. If I’d told Bob, Joanne might’ve been dead sooner and that’s all I’d need—my entire family destroyed.”
“You did tell Richard,” I said.
“Richard’s a man of action.”
Translation: Richard would punish her. Shutting her out, forever.
I said, “Joanne was a woman of action. Once sentence had been passed, she carried out the punishment herself.”
Killing herself slowly. Richard’s contempt had been part of it—excommunicating her, letting her know he had nothing but contempt for her. Threatening to tell the children.
But there’d been more to the deterioration, force-feeding herself like a goose. Getting fat because Becky had gotten skinny.
Joanne had despised herself.
Stacy, the alleged problem child, had been kept out of the loop. Eric, dropping out to tend to his mother, had probably been privy to more. How much had Joanne told him? Not the essence of her sin, just that she’d done something for which Dad couldn’t forgive her …
Judy said, “She finally did something right, goddamn her.”
“She wanted you to see—her last chance at apology.”
She shrugged. Drew her finger across her lips. “Leave now, Alex. I mean it.”
I got up and headed for the door. “Despite all she did
to your family, you cared about hers. That’s why you referred Stacy to me.”
“Talk about errors in judgment.”
“Who else knows?” I said.
“No one.”
“Not Becky’s therapist?”
“No, Becky and I agreed she could get help without getting into it. And don’t tell me I was wrong, because I wasn’t. She’s fine now. Planning to go to community college. Study psychology. We’re back to where we were before, Alex. Becky will take strength from it—develop a higher level of empathy out of this. Be a great psychologist.”
I turned toward the door.
“You don’t know, either, Alex. This conversation never took place.”
I reached for the doorknob.
“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t ever want to see or hear from you again.”
CHAPTER 38
Two WEEKS BEFORE Christmas, I called FBI headquarters at the Federal Building and, not expecting any success, asked to speak with Special Agent Mary Donovan.
I was transferred to her immediately.
“Hello, Doctor. What can I do for you?”
“I was just wondering if you’ve had any success with Dr. Fusco.”