“Scary.”
“Terrifying. We’d had our share of kids with tough histories and were well aware of his but still... the last straw was one night when he came into the bedroom of another foster, a seven-year-old girl, and tried to rip off her pajamas. We knew then that he had to go so we returned him to the county and I have no idea what happened to him after that. I felt guilty about it for a long, long time. It led me to do some reading about dangerous children — a book called Savage Spawn — and poor Rooney ticked all the boxes. I say ‘poor’ because what control did he have over his childhood? A father like that.”
I said, “Did he ever talk about his siblings?”
“Not the brother, just the sister. He called her a whore and a murderer. Said she’d killed his father and his mother, if not for her he’d be hunting and fishing with his dad, life would be perfect. Of course that was a distortion but we didn’t feel anything good would come from debating him.”
A beat.
“The truth is,” said Felice Heidl, “we avoided confrontation because he really, really frightened us. I don’t want to be melodramatic but his eyes, they were flat, Doctor. Different. Really different. Anyway, I just thought you should know. Maybe it would help fill in some blanks.”
“It does. Thanks for getting in touch, Ms. Heidl.”
“I know it doesn’t change things... he really killed them both? All that irrational hatred, festering all these years?”
“Unfortunately.”
Another sigh. “What can you do... thanks for listening, Dr. Delaware... like I said, I didn’t figure I’d be baring my soul to a psychologist. No offense but we tried that for Rooney. Before we gave him back. Used a person on a list the county gave us. He evaluated Rooney and called him a ‘fulminating sociopath.’ Told us unless Rooney shaped up by age twelve, there was no hope. Rooney was eleven, so talk about time pressure. We asked him — the doctor — what we could do and he looked at us as if we were stupid and said, ‘My point is, nothing, really.’ ”
“What a thing to go through.”
“We’d done well with nearly every other child, even those with tough backgrounds. The girl Rooney tried to bother is married, has her own kids, sends us Christmas cards and photos. A lot of the children we had the privilege to work with keep in touch. But still, the failures get to you. A few years ago, we returned to missionary work.”
“Where?”
“Last time was Colombia, our third trip.” Soft laughter. “The slums of Cali didn’t seem quite so bad.”
Chapter 50
A note from Judge Julie Beck’s law clerk informed me that Derek Ruffalo was in town and available for evaluation at my convenience.
The number she included connected me to the law offices of Wendy Sugihara. Her assistant said, “This is Lance. Great to hear from you, Doctor. Anytime you’d like to see Derek would be great. Wendy and Jack Toth will both be bringing him, if that’s okay with you.”
“Wendy represents—”
“Derek’s mother. Jack represents the dad.”
I said, “First time for everything.”
Lance said, “Everyone’s hoping it’ll be a great first time.”
At ten o’clock the following morning, a chauffeured black Escalade pulled up in front of my house. I’d positioned myself five minutes earlier, just close enough to the rail to see the driveway but sufficiently back to avoid attention.
Curious about two opposing lawyers taking the time to serve as escorts. Wanted to collect as much non-rehearsed, nonverbal data as possible.
First to exit the SUV was a thickset gray-blond man in his fifties who hitched his trousers and smoothed his jacket. Seconds later, a teenage boy with straight sandy hair that half shielded his forehead got out of the same door.
Average size for fifteen but equipped with the gangly limbs of someone much taller. Maybe the sign of an impending growth spurt.
The last to appear, from the other side of the ute, was an Asian woman in her forties with wavy light-brown hair. About Robin’s height, which put her at five-three on a good day.
Both adults wore gray suits. The boy had on a sky-blue polo shirt, olive-drab cargo pants, and high-top sneakers.
They took turns addressing him. He listened without comment or movement. Not the shine-you-on serenity of an adolescent shutting out grown-up noise. Paying attention.
I stepped forward to the rail and said, “Good morning.”
Three faces looked up. Even from a distance, the size and width of Derek Ruffalo’s eyes were evident. Narrow shoulders but good posture. Triangular face bottomed by a square chin.
Wendy Sugihara said, “Dr. Delaware? Glad we’re on time. It’s quite an excursion up here.”
Jack Toth said, “Probably weeds out the serious ones from the flakes.”
Derek Ruffalo smiled.
The three of them climbed the stairs. I’d closed the door and stood with my back to it. Still out for any sort of tell, mostly from Derek. He remained calm. A tell of a sort.
Both lawyers gave me their cards. Jack Toth’s full name was Janos.
Wendy Sugihara said, “Jack and I are ready to talk to you first and fill you in.”
I said, “Maybe later. I’ll be seeing Derek first.”
She looked at her adversary of record. Nothing adversarial about her expression. Jack Toth’s eyebrows were high and quivering.
She said, “It’s really better if we start. It’ll simplify matters.”
Jack Toth said, “Putting it mildly.”
I said, “Appreciate that but I’ll start with Derek.”
I opened the door and ushered them into the living room. I’d arranged a few magazines, bottles of water and glasses, had switched on soft Latin jazz. “Make yourselves comfortable or feel free to leave and come back.”
Both lawyers looked grim but they said nothing.
I motioned to Derek and he walked to my side. Lemony aftershave. You don’t get that much in teenage boys. Prepped by an adult or precocious?
As we headed up the hallway to my office, Jack Toth said, “How long do you expect to be talking to our boy?”
The word choice made Derek smile wider.
I said, “An hour. I’ll text you a quarter hour before.”
Derek produced an iPhone from a cargo pocket.
“Better yet, Derek will.”
The lawyers looked at each other. Sugihara said, “I’ve got plenty to do, don’t mind working in the car. That okay for you, Jack?”
“Better than just sitting around on my duff,” said Toth. To Derek: “You okay, son?”
“Yessir.”
“No need to text, just c’mon out when you’re done.”
I motioned Derek to the battered leather couch and sat opposite him in my equally seasoned armchair. He settled without slump or an anxious perch on the edge of the sofa. Sitting straight but not overly so, both feet flat on the floor, hands resting in his lap.
I’d thought about the appointment for a while, still had no idea how to get into the topic of abandonment.
I said, “Good to meet you.”
“Same here.” A boy’s voice transitioning to manhood. The result was the usual cracks and small squeaks. No self-consciousness about that. A self-possessed fifteen-year-old?
The widely set eyes were dark brown and soft, the square chin spotted with tiny pox-like zits. Similar gravel had been deposited between the eyes and on rosy cheeks. Spots of dark fuzz sprouted above his upper lip.