"Do you think they're still out there?" Angela whispered.
"I haven't the faintest idea," David said. "Moreover I don't care."
"What did you think of Kevin's comments about Dr. Portland?" Angela asked.
"I don't know what to think," David said. "To be truthful, Kevin has become somewhat of a mystery to me. He's a weird duck. I've never seen anyone carry on so much about getting bumped in the nose in a pickup basketball game."
"I found his comments unsettling to say the least," Angela said. "Thinking about murder in Bartlet even for a second leaves me strangely cold. I'm beginning to have this uncomfortable nagging feeling that something bad is going to happen, maybe because we're too happy."
"It's that hysterical personality of yours," David said, half in jest. "You're always looking for the dramatic. It makes you pessimistic. I think we're happy because we made the right decision."
"I hope you are right," Angela said as she snuggled into the crook of David's arm.
9
Traynor pulled his Mercedes off the road and bumped across the field toward the line of cars parked near a split-rail fence. During the summer months, the fairgrounds beyond the fence were used most often for crafts fairs, but today Traynor and his wife, Jacqueline, were headed there for the eighth annual Bartlet Community Hospital Labor Day picnic. Festivities had begun at nine starting with field day races for the children.
"What a way to ruin a perfectly good holiday," Traynor said to his wife. "I hate these picnics."
"Fiddlesticks!" Jacqueline snorted. "You don't fool me for a second." She was a petite woman, mildly overweight, who dressed inordinately conservatively. She was wearing a white hat, white gloves, and heels even though the outing was a cookout with corn, steamed clams, and Maine lobster.
"What are you talking about?" Traynor asked as he pulled to a stop and turned off the ignition.
"I know how much you love these hospital affairs, so don't play martyr with me. You love basking in the limelight. You play your part of Mr. Chairman of the Board to the hilt."
Traynor eyed his wife indignantly. Their marriage was filled with antagonism, and it was his routine to lash back, but he held his tongue. Jacqueline was right about the picnic, and it irritated him that over their twenty-one years of marriage, she'd come to know him so well.
"What's the story?" Jacqueline asked. "Are we going to the affair or not?"
Traynor grunted and got out of the car.
As they trudged back along the line of parked cars, Traynor saw Beaton who waved and started to come to meet them. She was with Wayne Robertson, the chief of police, and Traynor immediately suspected something was wrong.
"How convenient," Jacqueline said, seeing Beaton approach. "Here comes one of your biggest sycophants."
"Shut up, Jacqueline!" Traynor snarled under his breath.
"I've got some bad news," Beaton said without preamble.
"Why don't you head over to the tent and get some refreshments," Traynor told Jacqueline. He gave her a nudge. After she tossed Beaton a disparaging look, she left.
"She seems less than happy to be here this morning," Beaton commented.
Traynor gave a short laugh of dismissal. "What's the bad news?"
"I'm afraid there was another assault on a nurse last night," Beaton said. "Or rather, this morning. The woman was raped."
"Damn it all!" Traynor snarled. "Was it the same guy?"
"We believe so," Robertson said. "Same description. Also the same ski mask. This time the weapon was a gun rather than a knife, but he still had the handcuffs. He also forced her into the trees which is what he's done in the past."
"I'd hoped the lighting would have prevented it," Traynor said.
"It might have," Beaton said hesitantly.
"What do you mean?" Traynor demanded.
"The assault occurred in the upper lot, where there are no lights. As you remember, we illuminated only the lower lot to save money."
"Who knows about this rape?" Traynor asked.
"Not very many people," Beaton said. "I took it upon myself to contact George O'Donald at the Bartlet Sun, and he's agreed to keep it out of the paper. So we might get a break. I know the victim's not about to tell many people."
"I'd like to keep it away from CMV if it's at all possible," Traynor said.
"I think this underlines how much we need that new garage," Beaton said.
"We need it, but we might not get it," Traynor said. "That's my bad news for tonight's executive meeting. My old nemesis, Jeb Wiggins, has changed his mind. Worse still, he's convinced the Board of Selectmen that the new garage is a bad idea. He's got them all convinced it would be an eyesore."
"Is that the end of the project?" Beaton asked.
"It's not the end, but it's a blow," Traynor admitted. "I'll be able to get it on the ballot again, but once something like this gets turned down, it's hard to resurrect it. Maybe this rape, as bad as it is, could be the catalyst we need to get it to pass."
Traynor turned to Robertson. Traynor could see two bloated images of himself in Robertson's mirrored sunglasses. "Can't the police do anything?" he asked.
"Short of putting a deputy up there on a nightly basis," Robertson said, "there's not much we can do. I already have my men sweep the lots with their lights whenever they're in the area."
"Where's the hospital security man, Patrick Swegler?" Traynor asked.
"I'll get him," Robertson said. He jogged off toward the pond.
"Are you ready for tonight?" Traynor asked once Robertson was out of earshot.
"You mean for the meeting?" Beaton asked.
"The meeting and after the meeting," Traynor said with a lascivious smile.
"I'm not sure about after," Beaton said. "We need to talk."
"Talk about what?" Traynor asked. This was not what he wanted to hear.
"Now isn't a good time," Beaton said. She could already see Patrick Swegler and Wayne Robertson on their way over.
Traynor leaned against the fence. He felt a little weak. The one thing he counted on was Beaton's affection. He wondered if she were cheating on him, seeing someone like that ass Charles Kelley. Traynor sighed; there was always something wrong.
Patrick Swegler approached Traynor and looked him squarely in the eye. Traynor thought of him as a tough kid. He'd played football for Bartlet High School during the brief era that Bartlet dominated their interscholastic league.
"There wasn't much we could have done," Swegler said, refusing to be intimidated about the incident. "The nurse had done a double shift and she did not call security before she left as we'd repeatedly instructed nurses to do whenever they leave late. To make matters worse, she'd parked in the upper lot when she'd come to work for the day shift. As you know, the upper lot is not illuminated."
"Jesus H. Christ!" Traynor muttered. "I'm supposed to be supervising the running of a multimillion-dollar operation, and I've got to worry about the most mundane details. Why didn't she call security?"
"I wasn't told, sir," Swegler said.
"If we get the new garage, the problem will be over," Beaton said.
"Where's Werner Van Slyke of engineering?" Traynor said. "Get him over here."
"You of all people know Mr. Van Slyke doesn't attend any of the hospital's social functions," Beaton said.
"Dammit, you're right!" Traynor said. "But I want you to tell him for me that I want that upper parking lot lit just like the lower. In fact, tell him to light it up like a ballfield."
Traynor then turned back to Robertson. "And why haven't you been able to find out who this goddamn rapist is, anyway? Considering the size of the town and the number of rapes all presumably by the same person, I'd think you'd have at least one suspect."
"We're working on it," Robertson said.
"Would you like to head over to the tent?" Beaton asked.
"Why not?" Traynor fumed. "At least I'd like to get a few clams out of this." Traynor took Beaton by the arm and headed for the food.