“Will-iam?”
“BIL-LY BIL-LY BIL-LY …”
Billy’s heart thudded painfully as he held his breath and said a silent prayer. Then eyes closed, he shot down the slide. At the last moment he caught himself and landed on his feet. And the kids cheered. For a protracted moment he could not believe how easy it was, and how great it felt.
“Way to go, bro,” somebody shouted. “Now, come on and have your lunch.”
To the hooting of the other kids he climbed back up and came down again. Easy as pie, as his mom always said.
“How about on your back if you’re so cool?” Bobby sneered at him.
Billy wanted to go home, but he had to take the challenge. So he climbed back up the slide. At the top, while the other kids watched, he took a deep breath and stretched himself out, and when Bobby cried “Go” he shot down and at the last minute he caught himself and landed on his feet, nearly losing his balance.
“William, that’s enough of that,” the woman said.
“Now headfirst,” Bobby said, his face in a slick grin like J. Worthington Foulfellow.
“William.” A man was approaching Billy from the picnic table under the trees. He looked distantly familiar.
“Come on, Peepee Boy, or you gonna go running home to your mommy?”
“Yeah, scaredy-pants,” Philly C. shouted. He was Bobby’s best friend and did everything Bobby said.
“I’m not scared,” Billy heard himself say. But he was. So scared he felt himself begin to wet his underpants. But he couldn’t cop out now or they’d jeer him to tears then give him noogies and a pink belly in front of everybody, including Annette. He was as certain of that as he was of his own name—because that’s what had happened way back and every time he kept going back there in his head. But this time he had to show them. He had to. He had to.
“So, do it, Peepee Boy. Eyes closed, headfirst on your back, if you’re so cool. Or your ass is grass.”
Your ass is grass. It was Bobby’s favorite threat, although Billy didn’t know exactly what it meant.
Billy saw the man approach, so he climbed back up the ladder.
“What the hell are you doing, brother?”
But Billy paid him no attention—as if he were invisible or a ghost of another time.
At the top Billy sat down, his sneakers on the top rung. Below, the kids made a noisy clutch of arms and hats and dungarees and T-shirts that said Naylor Elementary. In the distance, at the picnic tables, were his parents and other parents drinking coffee out of big red Thermos jugs and watching all the kids playing. Billy’s mother cried out, “Careful, Billy.”
And Billy inched himself backward onto the slanting metal slide, his hands gripping the sides, then he lowered his back onto the warm polished metal, his head straight down. He could feel the heat rising, the sun in his face, his short little legs curled over the top, holding him in place, as he watched a white seabird slice across the blue.
“William, no!” cried his mother.
“Billy, go!” cried the kids.
And William Zett raised his legs and slid down the sun-slick trough, his face fist-tight, the hard blue sky running him along, the white bird freezing in flight.
His head jammed into the earth and he heard something in his neck snap like a Popsicle stick. And everything—the sky, the trees, the white bird, the man looking down on him—
“Oh, God, no!” went black.
20
EVEN AN HOUR AFTER SHE’D LEFT the hospital and was on 1-93 north to one of her rest homes in Concord, N.H., René could still hear Jack’s voice—and the image of his eyes cue-balled in his face as he stared at her transfixed with terror. Terror.
That was the only word for it. She didn’t have a clue what he was seeing as he gaped at her. But what kept playing in her head was that voice—that weird baby-talk voice.
“Mama.”
“Except Jack didn’t have a mother.”
The jangle of her cell phone snapped her back to the moment. It was the secretary at Broadview saying that it was urgent: Carter Lutz wanted to meet with her as soon as possible. René had no idea what the problem was, but she had a prowling sense it wasn’t good.
Half an hour later she reached the home, and as soon as she entered she felt the tension. “He’s waiting for you in his office,” the receptionist said.
René walked down the hall and tapped his door.
Carter Lutz opened it. He did not smile. “I appreciate your coming by.” He closed the door and indicated a seat opposite his desk. He settled in his chair. “I’ll get right to the point. The family of Edward Zuchowsky is taking legal action against this home, and you’ve been named in the lawsuit along with CommCare.”
“What? On what grounds?”
“Gross negligence in his death at the hands of Clara Devine.”
She could barely catch her breath. “That’s ridiculous. I never laid eyes on Edward Zuchowsky or Clara Devine.”
“That’s irrelevant. Within the next few days, Zuchowsky family lawyers will call on you for a deposition. How you respond is critical to the outcome and determination of damages.”
René looked at him in blank disbelief.
“But there’s something that can be done to avoid a horror show for all of us.” Lutz’s face appeared to sharpen. “First, let me ask you a question. Your work in this home is dedicated to raising the quality of life for elderly people, am I correct?”
She nodded numbly. “Yes, of course.”
“Then you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the well-being of our patients, correct?”
Another obvious question. René nodded.
“Or of the home?”
Nod.
“Good, because the welfare of Broadview is commensurate with that of our residents. Our moral mission is to our residents. Is that not so?”
Nod. And a worm slithered across René’s chest.
“What happened with Clara Devine was a terrible thing, and nobody knows what caused her to do what she did. But everybody associated with this home is responsible for keeping track of our patients and not letting them wander away.
“You’re new, but you can imagine that liability is something we worry about here. I don’t need to paint a picture, but lawsuits are horrible and the results can be destructive. But if you’re a team player, we can all help each other. If not, you’ll be alone in the dark.”
Team player.
“For your deposition, it is of the utmost importance that you keep in mind our highest priorities and exercise prudence and consistency.”
Silence filled the room as if the place were holding its breath. Finally René spoke. “What exactly are you asking me to do, Dr. Lutz?”
“I’m asking that you restrict all you know about the incident to the fact that there was an unfortunate failure in the security system, namely, that the locking mechanism had somehow failed and the security camera malfunctioned.”
“You mean you’re telling me to pretend that I never saw the video of Clara Devine letting herself out.”
“In so many words.” Lutz’s eyes were intense with conviction.
“And that I make no mention of Clara’s being enrolled in the Memorine trials?”
“Only because that’s totally irrelevant.”
“Dr. Lutz, you’re asking me to lie and, frankly, I’m not comfortable with that.”