She smiled. "So," she said. "You don't like knowing that some body's watching, is that it?"
"I never dealt with you anonymously Mrs. Jones."
"I didn't mail you anything, Mr. Fletcher," she said, "so it must have been one of the other people yo u're blackmailing."
"Nobody else has persecuted any of my children," said Step.
"So you think it's me. You blame one more problem in your family on a woman who isn't even your son's teacher anymore."
She's enjoying this, he thought. She loves knowing that I'm really bothered by that anonymous record. Just as with Stevie, she loves to make somebody else squirm.
"Your lawyer never called me about a restraining order," said Step.
She shrugged.
"But Captain Douglas of the Steuben police thinks that the fingerprints on the envelope the record came in should be enough to make a positive identification that will stand up in court."
"Don't be stupid," she said.
"Wore gloves, huh?" he asked. "But you didn't wear gloves when you licked the stamp and pressed it onto the envelope."
The stricken look on her face would have been answer enough. Her sudden relaxation a moment later confirmed it.
"That was a relief, I see," said Step.
"What do you mean?" she said.
"Remembering that you had the guy at the post office meter it."
Her face revealed her inner struggle. Had she really let him know that she sent it, or was he bluffing?
"You never thought I was stalking you," said Step. "You've known all along that you were the one watching me. So I'm telling you now, stop it. I've already given your name to the police as a possible sender of that record. They're watching you. So it's time for you to leave me and my family alone."
"Leave you alone!" She sounded defiant, but his mention of the police had clearly bothered her.
"We've done you no harm. I could have reported what you did to the school board and sued the school district and you personally for what you did to Stevie. Your name could have been in all the papers. Instead I tried to be decent and handle it privately. Be grateful for that and stop looking to get even."
"Grateful," she scoffed. "To you? You're so smart, Mr. Fletcher. You and your clever little boy. You can take away other people's careers. You can make them work as temps and live with humiliation and fear every day of their lives."
"Just as Stevie did," said Step.
She glared at him, opened the door of her car, turned her back on him as she slipped inside.
"I keep almost feeling sorry for you," said Step. "And then you prove to me all over again that you thrive on hurting other people. That's what evil is, Mrs. Jones. That's what you are."
She hesitated before closing the door of the car, as if searching for some final, clinching retort. Then she slammed the door and started the engine. Step watched her pull out of the parking place and, with a squeal of tires, race for the street.
At least now I know who sent the record, thought Step. It wasn't from the killer, just as Douglas said. It was from a bully. It was no worse than that.
When he got inside, someone had taken his shopping cart. No doubt a store employee was carefully putting everything back on the shelves. He sighed, pulled his list out of his pocket, and started over.
One night late in September, Step was going to be alone with the children while DeAnne was making a presentation on journalkeeping at homemaking meeting. He knew he should be helping to keep the children out of her hair as she got ready to go, but he was in the middle of a complicated algorithm that wouldn't seem to go right, and he kept thinking, In a minute I'll go help.
Robbie was walking up and down the ha ll, bouncing a ball as hard as he could, a relentless thump, thump, thump that was about to drive Step crazy. Finally he couldn't stand it anymore. He got up and went into the hall to put a stop to the bouncing. At the same moment, DeAnne emerged from the bedroom in her slip, with the same mission in mind. Poor Robbie stood in the hall between them, looking in dread from one to the other.
"Sorry," he said in a small voice.
They both burst out laughing. "Just stop bouncing the ball inside the house, Road Bug," said Step.
"OK," said Robbie. "It don't bounce good on the carpet anyway."
"It doesn't bounce well," said Step.
"I know," said Robbie, puzzled. "I told you."
Half an hour after DeAnne left for the church, the phone rang. It was DeAnne. "This is going to sound stupid, Junk Man, but would you mind asking Robbie where he got that ball?"
"He's had it for years," said Step.
"But it rolled down one of the yucky holes in front of the house the first week we lived here," she said. "I want to know how it got out again. You didn't rescue it, did you?"
"I didn't even know it was lost. Maybe I could put it back."
"Step, please find out or it'll drive me crazy for the rest of my life."
He agreed, hung up, and went in search of Robbie.
"The invisible guy got it for me," said Robbie. "He said it wasn't very far down in the drain, and it came when he called it."
Step might have rebuked him for making up such a weird story, but the mention of an invisible guy gave him pause. "Where did you meet this invisible guy, Road Bug?"
"In the yard today," said Robbie. "He was naked because if he wore clothes people would see him."
"But you could see him," said Step.
"I'm your son," said Robbie, as if that explained everything.
Lee Weeks, thought Step. "How long ago was this?" asked Step. "Before or after Stevie got home from school?"
"Before," said Robbie. "He's gone now. He had to fly to Raleigh."
Step went around the house, double-checking the locks. Then he made Robbie and Stevie go into Betsy's and Zap's bedroom while he went outside.
It was nearly dark, with scant moonlight, but Step saw him almost at once, a pale ghostlike figure standing up against the neighbor's high hedge in the front yard. Step locked the front door behind him and strode toward him.
"How did you get over here with no clothes on, Lee?" he asked.
Lee laughed in delight. "I knew you'd be able to see me. Just like your son."
"You're lucky it wasn't a cop who saw you, Lee. This is called 'indecent exposure' and you go to jail for it."
In fact, though, Lee's naked body was more sad than anything, so pale, the hair making feeble shadows. "I don't appreciate you talking to my son in this condition."
"I can't help it if he has your power to see the invisible," said Lee.
"You've been palming your medicine again, I guess."
"Mother checks my hands," said Lee. "She checks my mouth. And she watches me so I don't throw it up."
"Do you hate it that much?"
"It makes me feel like I'm moving through the world in a fog," said Lee. "When I don't take it, everything gets so sharp and clear. I can see forever. And my thoughts-I can think the thoughts of God. I don't have to sleep. I haven't slept in five days."
"I can believe it," said Step, noticing that if Lee was God, then God chewed gum. "Why are you here?"
"If you're really going to be my spokesman, then you have to be tested."
"I'm not going to be your spokesman, Lee. Where are your clothes?"
"Those are the robes of my captivity," he said. "I never had clothing."
"Yeah, well, they don't fit your mother."
"My mother likes you," said Lee. "She thinks you're really smart."
"How nice."
"But she says you don't like woman psychiatrists."
"She's mistaken," said Step.
"Oh, you don't have to pretend. I don't like them either. They're so bossy. And they don't understand what it's like. They've got their drugs to turn you into a robot, when you're just this close to seeing it all. To getting the whole picture."