by Greg Iles
There was a long pause. “What’s going on up there today?”
Nell blinked away tears. Being able to talk to Dr. Shields directly was more relief than she could stand. “Things are out of control. I think some kind of agents from Jackson may be on their way here. Because of all the stuff Dr. Auster and my sister have been doing. You know what I’m talking about?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I haven’t been a hundred percent perfect in my life,” Nell said, “but I never meant to hurt anybody. And I know you didn’t. And . . . I just don’t want anything to happen to you. You don’t deserve that, Dr. Shields.”
“I’m going to be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“I don’t know. You’re too trusting, and you sure can’t trust Dr. Auster. Not a lick. Listen, if I hang up all of a sudden, it’s because Vida’s come in. I’ll do whatever I can to help you, but you’d better not call back here. Not with those agents coming. You just do whatever you think is right. You can count on me to back you up.”
Dr. Shields didn’t speak for several seconds. Then he said, “Nell, I need to ask you something.”
“Hurry.”
“Is Kyle having an affair?”
“Well . . . yes, sir. With my sister.”
“I know that. I’m talking about with someone else.”
Nell wasn’t sure she should say more, but she didn’t want to hold anything back from Dr. Shields. It might hurt him in some way. “I did hear Dr. Auster on the phone with somebody two days ago. I think he’s planning to run off with somebody new.”
“Who?”
She sensed a sudden urgency in Dr. Shields’s voice. “I don’t know.”
“Are you sure? Don’t hold back to spare my feelings.”
This comment confused her. Why should Dr. Auster’s affair hurt his feelings? “I really don’t. But you’d better—” Vida’s cheap heels were clacking down the corridor. “Sorry, I have to go.” Nell set the phone in its cradle and began typing entries on a Blue Cross insurance claim.
“Patients still calling?” Vida asked, walking in with two stuffed Walgreens bags.
“What do you think? It’s like a tidal wave without Dr. Shields here.”
“You just keep blowing them off, honey. And it doesn’t matter what you tell them. Say we’re gone to the NASCAR races. This shop is closing for good.”
Nell stared openmouthed at her sister.
Vida gave back her “I meant what I said” look, then began opening the file cabinets against the back wall.
• • •
Laurel watched Warren’s face as he hung up the phone. He had looked puzzled while he was talking, but now he wore an expression she couldn’t begin to read.
“That was Nell Roberts?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Nell is the one who’s been sending you e-mails?”
“Apparently. She’s worried about me.”
Laurel had met Nell a few times, but only in passing. A pretty girl in her late twenties, she looked as if she’d come from a different family than her putative older sister. “How could Nell possibly know anything about me?”
Warren seemed to be working something out in his head. “Through Vida, I guess. Vida’s got a vested interest in protecting her relationship with Kyle.”
Laurel saw where this was going. “Warren, don’t try to bend things around to fit your preconceptions. Look at the facts. You obviously didn’t even know who was telling you this stuff. What if Nell has an ulterior motive herself?”
“Like what?”
“Maybe she’s in love with you.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Why? She’s young and single, and you’re a handsome doctor, her boss—”
“I’m not going to listen to that crap. Nell is the only good person in that whole snake pit. She doesn’t even belong there.”
“She can be a good person and still do not-so-good things. And anybody can be mistaken about things they see or hear.”
Warren raised his eyebrows. “Well, she’s apparently heard that Kyle is planning to run away with someone. A new girlfriend, she said. And that seems to square with the two hundred grand in bonds hidden in our safe room. Guatemalan bonds, huh? Were you planning to take our children with you?”
Laurel suddenly realized that reason would never get her out of this. No matter what facts surfaced, Warren would find a way to fit them into his betrayal scenario. “Listen to me. I’m not going to discuss Kyle anymore. I haven’t had sex with him, I don’t even like him, and I can’t answer any of your questions. I don’t know what those bonds are doing here, or the ledgers, or anything else. I know nothing, okay? Kyle is your partner and your problem. End of story.”
Warren looked at his watch for a long time, as though calculating the number of hours he’d been awake. Laurel guessed thirty-four. How rational could anyone be after that kind of sleep deprivation? He yawned as if trying to swallow his head with his own mouth, stretching his arms back until his shoulders popped.
“Do you want to see the kids?” he asked.
She looked at him in disbelief. “You’re going to untie me?”
“If you promise to behave.”
“Can I clean up before they see me?”
“You worry too much about your looks. We go upstairs as is, or forget it.”
Laurel wasn’t sure she should let the kids see her in her present state. But somewhere in the back of her brain simmered a fear that she might not survive this encounter. “Okay.”
With a quick turn of the dials, Warren opened the bike lock. One moment she was a chained prisoner, the next she was free. Free to move, at least. She was still a prisoner.
She’d expected to be led straight upstairs, but he took her arm and walked her back to the great room, where her laptop sat clicking on the coffee table. Interposing himself between Laurel and the machine, he looked down at the screen to check the progress of the password-cracking program. Around his back, Laurel saw the Hotmail log-in page superimposed in miniature over a background page, which showed a gray-bearded wizard staring wisely up from the screen. Lightning flashed from the staff in his hand, but what held Laurel’s attention was the numerical ticker below the wizard. It was seven digits long, and the last three digits were increasing almost too fast to see, like the digital readout of a gas pump filling a bottomless tank. Above this, a line of asterisks filled the PASSWORD field of the Hotmail log-in page, and a red error message read SIGN IN FAILED. The asterisks and letters appeared to be permanent, but as Laurel stared, she realized that they were blinking so rapidly that she almost could not detect it. Somehow, the cracker program had disabled the feature that kicked people off after ten failed attempts. She felt as though a ghostly robot were sitting at her computer, trying to break into her e-mail account at the speed of light.
“Any minute now,” Warren said, glancing around at her. “Nervous?”
She turned away. “Let’s go see the kids.”
“Yes. Let’s do that.”
He led her up the front stairs, only letting go of her arm when they reached the top. Laurel heard the TV blaring through the closed door of the kids’ playroom. She tried to steel herself, but she knew she would cry when she saw them. She had once burst into tears upon seeing them after a five-day education seminar in Dallas. She expected Warren to warn her in some way, but he simply pocketed his gun, opened the door, and cried, “Hey, hey! Look who’s here!”
Laurel heard a scuttling sound to her left, but saw nothing there. Her eyes were drawn to the couch, where Grant lay sprawled on his back watching the big-screen TV. He’d changed his royal blue school uniform shirt for a ripped GIRL skateboard T-shirt, and his New Balances for Adios with stripped black laces. On the screen before him, Tony Hawk leaped and spun over the lip of a massive half-pipe, which Grant never tired of begging Warren to build in the backyard.
“Hey, Mom,” Grant said, moving his eyes but nothing else. “How’s your headache
?”
“A little better,” Warren said quickly. “She’s not over it yet. Where’s your sister?”
“Over here,” said a small voice. “Ta-da!”
Beth jumped out from behind the closet door. Laurel had to cover her mouth to hide the pain that pierced her at the sight. Beth was wearing the Snow White costume Laurel had bought her during their last trip to Disney World. Not the cheap one-piece costume, but the full-blown ensemble of yellow satin and dark blue velvet, with bright red ribbons like the ones in the Disney classic. Beth’s proud smile and flashing eyes made her look impossibly alive and happy, like a character who had leaped out of a movie herself.
“How do I look?” she asked.
Laurel bit her lip and knelt before her daughter. “Did you put this on all by yourself, Snow White?”
Beth curtsied with elaborate ceremony.
“I helped,” Grant said from the couch.
“No, you didn’t!” Beth cried.
Grant shrugged.
“He just tied my bow,” Beth explained. “Nothing else.”
“Riiiight,” Grant drawled.
“Shut up, Butt Face.”
Grant broke up at this.
“Stop provoking her,” Warren snapped. Then he looked down at Beth. “And you stop saying ‘Butt Face,’ young lady.”
“Well, he is.”
As Grant stifled more laughter, Laurel hugged her daughter as tightly as she dared. “Mama?” Beth’s small voice in her ear. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine now, baby. I just had to see you.”
“I don’t want your head to hurt.”
Hot tears slid down Laurel’s cheeks. She bent her neck and wiped her cheeks on Beth’s cape. Then she pulled away.
“Mama, your hands are all sticky. And your mascara’s running!”
Laurel stuck out her bottom lip and blew air over her face, hoping to dry the tears. “It’s just my headache, darling. Are you guys all right for food and stuff?”
“I’m hungry,” Grant said. “Can we come down and mikeywave something?”
“Not yet,” said Warren. “I’ll bring something up to you in a minute. But first we need to talk.”
A frisson of fear went through Laurel’s chest. She turned to Warren, but he wasn’t looking at her. He took Beth’s hand and led her over to the sofa, where Grant lay.
“Sit up, Son,” he said. “Come on, get your behind in gear. This is a family conference.”
Grant groaned loudly. “But I’m starving.”
Laurel wanted to bolt from the room. She saw now that Warren had brought her up here not to ease her mind, but to torture her more painfully than he ever could downstairs. Grant and Beth sat side by side on the sofa, their upturned faces curious but unworried. Snow White and a skateboard prince. A more innocent pair of angels she could not imagine. Warren pulled two chairs over in front of the couch and sat facing the kids, then motioned for her to join him.
She couldn’t move.
“Come here, Laurel,” he said. “This won’t take long.”
“What is it, Daddy?” Beth asked. “Did Christy poop inside the house again?”
“No, sweetheart. This is more serious than that.”
When Laurel refused to move, Warren shrugged as if to say, All right. Then he turned to the children and said, “Your mother has something to tell you, guys. So pay close attention.” He turned to Laurel expectantly.
“Warren,” she said evenly, “I need to speak to you outside.”
He smiled in apparent sympathy. “Mom’s having a hard time finding the right words, kids. So I’ll help. While you kids have been going to school, and while I’ve been working hard at the hospital, Mom has been making a new friend.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed. “Really? Who is it, Mom?”
Laurel stared at her husband, silently begging him not to go on. But the hatred in his eyes was unveiled now, and it was absolute. Nothing was going to stop him. She thought of grabbing the kids and trying to get out of the room, but that would only result in a fight with Warren, which might scar them even more.
“It’s a man,” Warren said. “I don’t know who it is yet, because Mom won’t tell me. But she’s been going to a secret place every day and hugging and kissing this man.”
Beth’s eyes were wide. They moved from Warren to Laurel, filled with questions. Laurel wanted to say, That’s not true, sweetheart. But it was true. She had been doing exactly what Warren was accusing her of doing.
“I know it seems hard to understand,” Warren went on, “but Mama’s getting tired of us. Our family is starting to bore her, so she’s looking for another one. One that might make her happier.”
Her children’s faces were moving in ways Laurel had never seen before. She was witnessing the implosion of innocence. And she, not Warren, was responsible. Though Warren was the one talking, she felt as if she were holding down her children and hitting them in the face again and again, and they could not fight back.
“Mama?” Beth said, her voice scarcely a whisper. “Is that right? Are you tired of us?”
Laurel realized that her hands were shaking. And not just her hands. Her chin was quivering, and her legs were turning to water.
“Why are you crying, Mom?” Grant asked worriedly. He no longer looked like a smart-aleck teenager, but the terrified nine-year-old he really was. “Dad, what’s wrong? I don’t like this game.”
“I don’t either, Son. But Mom hasn’t given us any choice. She’s already made her decision.” He waved Laurel over to the chair beside him. “Come on, honey. I want you to explain things to Grant and Beth as best you can. They deserve to know the truth.”
There’s no way I’m staying married after this, Laurel thought. And if Danny had left his wife five weeks ago, like he said he would, I would have faced a scene a lot like this one. Warren wants me to tell them I had an affair? All right, I’ll tell them what I would have told them five weeks ago. Not that I’m in love with someone else, but that I don’t love Daddy anymore. That should be easy enough. I don’t love Daddy anymore. But I love them more than I ever have. They’ll know I’m telling the truth about that, because that is the truth—
“Get over here!” Warren snapped. “Have the courage of your convictions, damn it.”
“I’m scared,” Beth whimpered through glistening tears. She held out her arms for Laurel to pick her up, but when Laurel moved, Warren stood and blocked her path.
“Dad, you’re scaring us,” Grant said with surprising force. “You’re scaring Mom, too!”
“That can’t be helped, Son. Mama’s done a very bad thing.”
“No!” Beth cried. “She couldn’t do something bad. Mama’s good!”
Warren looked as though he might be crying himself. “I know you believe that, Elizabeth, but I’m afraid it’s not true. That’s one of the hard things about growing up—facing the fact that adults aren’t all good. And your mother is capable of doing some very bad things. You two get punished when you do bad things, don’t you?”
Grant nodded reluctantly.
“Then Mom should, too. We all have to follow the same rules. That’s—”
“You sorry son of a bitch,” Laurel said under her breath. “You should be ashamed.”
Warren turned to her, his eyes red. “I should be ashamed? The shame is all yours today, my love. Did you ever think about these children when you were betraying them? Did you think about them for five seconds while you—”
“STOP IT!” Beth screamed. “STOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPIT!”
“Be quiet, Elizabeth!” Warren snapped.
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Beth’s earsplitting scream made all other communication impossible. Warren stood over her as if to make her stop, but he was faced with the fact that nothing short of violence could do it, and that was likely to provoke even more screams—or worse, total silence. If Laurel could have snatched the gun from his pocket at that moment, she might have shot him through the heart. She
had betrayed her duty to her children, yes. But nothing justified the psychological torture he was putting them through now. And for what? For revenge, the most useless thing in the world.
“Warren, you have to stop,” she said, while Beth recharged her lungs between screams. “You’ve made your point.”
“Have I?” he asked, scowling over his shoulder.
Beth cut loose with another shriek, and this time Laurel rushed forward and snatched her up off the sofa. “I’ve got you, darling, I’ve got you,” she murmured in Beth’s ear. “Everything’s all right now. Daddy was just telling a story.”
“Were you?” asked Grant, hope in his eyes.
“No, Son. I’m afraid not. And soon we’re all going to know who Mom’s new friend is.”
Something in Laurel snapped then. She turned far to the left, winding up, then flung out her right arm and backhanded Warren with all the force she could summon. The slap resounded through the room, leaving total shock in its wake. While Warren rubbed blood from the end of his nose, Grant gaped in shock.
“Mom just hit you, Dad,” he said, as though trying to get his mind around what his eyes had just seen. “She knocked the crap out of you!”
“It’s just a game,” Laurel said, gently rocking Beth in her arms while Warren watched her with madness in his eyes.
“What game is that?” Grant asked.
“Austin Powers,” Laurel replied, grabbing the first suitable image she could find amid the clutter of her pop-culture memory. “I think Beth needs a nap, gentlemen.”
She started to carry Beth to her bedroom, but Warren’s right hand slid into the pocket that held his pistol. “Think,” she said softly. “Think about what you’re doing.”
“You didn’t think.”
“You’re right. I should have—” Laurel stood with her mouth open, but no sound emerged. The doorbell had just rung. The echo of its musical ping was still fading.
“Someone’s at the door,” Grant piped up. “Maybe it’s UPS with my new trucks!”
The bell rang again, three times in quick succession.
“Nobody move,” Warren said in the voice of a TV cop. He went to the dormer window and looked down toward the front entrance of the house.
