“You might try to find out if there’s any history of physical abuse prior to the kidnappings.”
Karen looked at him sharply.
“Why?”
“Studies show that women who have been sexually abused as children are more apt to be rape victims than those who have not. Right?”
“So?”
“So maybe Lamont is picking on those who have been preselected.”
“And he can tell in some way?”
“Maybe, I don’t know.”
“What are you doing, blaming the victim?” she demanded angrily.
Becker noticed that she slowed the car.
“Some boys might make themselves more available.”
“So they can be beaten to death? Jesus, Becker.”
“I mean they might be more docile. I know I was an awfully good little boy.”
“You, John?”
“I was so good it makes my teeth ache to think about it.”
“Hard to believe.”
“Trust me,“ Becker said dully. “I did everything I was told-but instantly.”
Karen remembered that Gold had said that most of all Becker wanted desperately to be a good man. Still, it was difficult to reconcile the contradictory facts that this man whose reputation within the Bureau for independence was matched only by his reputation for lack of tact had ever been a child trying to curry favor with anyone.
“Why were you like that then, if you’re not that way now?”
“Because I was under the impression that there were rules I could follow that would make me safe-if I could only figure out what they were. I assumed I was being beaten because I was bad and, believe me, I would have done anything to keep it from happening again… There wasn’t anything I could do, but it took me a long time to realize it
… And you?”
“And me what?”
“Weren’t you… Wouldn’t you do anything to keep it from happening again?”
“God damn you, Becker.”
“Didn’t you do exactly what you were told? You kept quiet, you didn’t tell anyone, you were afraid what would happen to your family, you knew no one would believe you, anyway…”
“God damn you! Leave me out of this. You don’t know anything about me, nothing.”
“Who was it, Karen? Your father, your brother, some ‘uncle’… ”
“Just stop it!”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Becker said softly.
“I won’t be linked with you, John. Stop trying to do it.”
“You already are, it’s nothing I’m doing, it’s your past.”
“You’re just guessing, just flailing around in the dark. You want there to be some connection so you’re making it up.”
“I don’t want that kind of connection. I don’t wish it on anybody.”
“You’re doing it with me and I won’t put up with it.” Becker studied the traffic for a moment, allowing Karen to cool down. He tried to estimate whether they had accelerated or slowed without looking at the speedometer. “What kind of child were you?” he asked after a time.
“I was a fucking tomboy, all right? I was a holy terror. I used to chew up the boys and spit them out again.”
“What did you have against the boys?”
“They were jerks. Still are. Gold is better than this, isn’t he?” Karen asked. “He must be.”
“He’s had more practice,” Becker said.
“Why don’t I just go to Gold when I have a psychological problem, then, all right? He doesn’t have anything better to do than listen to agents whine about their parents, but you do, John. You’ve got a case to work on, and so do I, so let’s keep it to that. Okay?”
“This has to do with the case,” Becker said.
“I don’t have to do with the case. My history has nothing to do with it at all. And neither does the history of these boys. They are not asking to be kidnapped and tortured and killed. They are not wearing signs on their forehead saying ‘I am submissive, I have been abused before, come and get it.’ ”
“You’re sure of this?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’m positive.”
“Why?”
“How long has it been since you’ve been with a child. John? How long since you spent any time at all with one? Especially a boy.”
“Not since I was one. I guess.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said. “You’re just working on theory, not reality.”
“That’s my exit,” Becker said, glancing back as the sign for Clamden receded in the distance.
“I don’t have time to take you home,” Karen said. “I’ll be late. And besides, it’s time you met a real boy.”
Chapter 10
She danced above him, eyes flashing, smiling so hard it looked like her face might rip. Her blonde hair flew out from her head as she moved, as if even it were electrified by her excitement. To Bobby’s bewildered eyes she looked like a creature from a Disney movie, all fierce animation and wild gesticulation. Like someone creating her own wind. Even her voice sounded like something from a movie, sped up beyond normal speed and crackling with agitation. He knew the words but could not fathom their meaning.
“We’re going to have such a good time,” Dee said. She had been saying it repeatedly since she and the man had brought him into the room.
“I know just what a boy like you likes,” she said. “I know all about boys like you. Oh, we’re going to have fun!”
She reached down, touched his cheek suddenly. Bobby flinched involuntarily although he had already been warned not to.
“Don’t pull away from me,” Dee said. She did not sound angry, but there was to her tone a hint of severity, masked and muffled by her good mood, but still detectable in the distance. Bobby held very still as she ran her fingers across his face.
“Think how that makes me feel,” she continued. “You mustn’t think only of yourself, you know. You mustn’t be selfish. You must think of me, too. Think how Dee feels when you jerk away like that.”
She smoothed the hair which habitually fell over his brow.
“Well,” she said, “you’ll learn. Children are always selfish at first. They have to be taught. Especially boys.”
She whirled away from him again. “Oh, I know all about boys. Don’t I, Ash? Don’t I know all about boys like him?”
Bobby thought the man she had called Ash was about to answer, but she did not wait for him.
“I know all about them.”
This time she grabbed his toe and wiggled it. “All about them.” Something in her tone suggested that she simultaneously chided and forgave him for mischief yet undone.
Dee rubbed his foot through the sheet for a moment, then uncovered his leg as far up as his knee. Bobby was naked under the sheet and he was afraid that she would lift the sheet further, revealing him completely, but he did not allow himself to squirm. As his feet were bound to the bed frame he knew he could not get away from her anyway, but he did not want to be accused of flinching again.
She seemed interested only in his feet.
“Oh, look at these toes,” she said with wonder, as if discovering something amazing on the ends of his feet. “Did you ever see such perfect toes. Ash? Just look at them.”
Ash had been positioned by the door, leaning his back against it as if keeping outside forces from bursting in. Bobby wondered if his parents were out there now, waiting for the right moment to hurl themselves through the wood to rescue him. Maybe they were there with the police. Maybe they were there with guns and, and… he couldn’t think what else they might have, but he was pretty sure that the police arsenal was vast and deadly. He didn’t want this man and woman shot. He didn’t want anyone to hurt them. He just wanted to go home. To be untied and released from the bed, to have the gag taken from his mouth.
Ash came from the door and bent over Bobby’s toes, regarding them as intently as if they were marvelous new growth in the garden, a biological marvel that was sprouting and stretching upwards right before his eyes.
Now was the time for the police to ram the door. Bobby thought. He was afraid to look in that direction for fear the man and woman would see him and realize their mistake, ruining the opportunity. But the door did not move, the police did not come.