When she finally headed into the house, the phone began ringing as she unlocked the back door. Dropping her briefcase, keys, and mail on the washer/dryer, Joanna raced into the living room to pick up the receiver. The name on the Caller ID box belonged to Melvin Unger, Andy's second cousin's husband. Joanna knew that while the Bradys were in Oklahoma, they were staying on the Ungers' farm a few miles outside Enid.
"Hi, Mom," Jenny said. "Did you just get home?"
Phone in hand, Joanna kicked off her heels and dropped onto the couch, where she could stretch out with her stockinged feet up on the cushioned armrest. "Yes," she answered. "Just now. I was unlocking the door when I heard the phone ring."
"Why so late?" Jenny asked.
"It's not late," Joanna corrected. "Just six. You're in Oklahoma. There's a time zone difference, remember?"
"Oh," Jenny said. "That's right. I forgot."
"So how are you?" Joanna asked. "Was the reunion fun?"
"I guess so," Jenny said.
Joanna heard the uncertainty in her daughter's voice. "What do you mean, you guess so?"
"It's just that some of the kids were… well, you know…"
“I don't know," Joanna said as Jenny's voice trailed off. "They were what?"
"Well, mean," Jenny said finally.
"Mean how?"
"Rodney and Brian, from Tulsa. They kept making fun of me the whole time. They said I talked funny and that since we go to a Methodist church instead of a Baptist that I'd probably go to hell when I die. Is that true, Mom? Is Daddy in hell and not in heaven? And how come Baptists are so mean?"
Joanna felt a sudden surge of anger rise in her breast. Had she been at the reunion, she might well have told Rodney and Brian a thing or two. "Who are Rodney and Brian?" she demanded. "Isn't their dad's name Jimmy?"
"I think so," Jenny said.
"That figures, then," Joanna said. "Your dad used to tell me how, whenever he was back in Oklahoma visiting, his older cousin Jimmy always made his life miserable, too. Remember, 'Sticks and stones will break your bones, but names will never hurt you.' " Joanna knew those words of consolation weren't entirely true, but they were worth a try. Predictably, they were greeted by dead silence on the other end of the line. "That is all, isn't it?" she asked then. "The boys saying mean things?"
"Well…" Jenny said.
"What else?"
"You know, just stuff."
Joanna sighed. "Rodney and Brian aren't mean because they're Baptists, Jenny. Most likely they're mean because that's how they were raised. And then, too, they're boys. Remember that old nursery rhyme Daddy used to read to you, the one about what boys and girls are made of? Girls are sugar and spice and everything nice and boys are frogs and snails and puppy-dog tails."
"I know," Jenny said. "Are frogs in there because of the legs?"
"Legs?" Joanna asked. "What do you mean?"
"'That's something else Rodney and Brian do-they catch frogs and bugs and pull their legs off. And then they watch to see what happens.,"
Joanna felt suddenly sick to her stomach. She was a mother, but she was also a cop. She knew about the kinds of profiling done by investigators of the FBI. She knew how often things like torturing small animals had been dismissed as harmless little-boy stuff, when in fact it had been a clear warning signal that something was seriously haywire and the little boy was actually taking his first ominous steps on a journey that would eventually lead to serial homicide.
Joanna's biggest concern right then wasn't so much that Rodney and Brian Morse were already junior serial killers. But it did seem possible that, bored with verbal abuse and tiring of helpless animal victims, the boys had turned their propensity for physical torture on Jenny. If so, Jenny wasn't saying.
Joanna was careful to keep her voice steady. "How long are Rodney and Brian going to be there?"
"I don't know for sure," Jenny answered. "I guess the rest of the week."
"And are they staying out there on the farm?"
"No. They're at a motel in town each night, but they come out to the farm during the day."
Mentally, Joanna closed her eyes and tried to remember the school photos accompanying letters in Christmas cards past. It seemed as though the boys were close to Jenny's age, but she couldn't be sure. "How old are they?" she asked.
"Rodney's twelve. Brian's eleven."
"Listen," Joanna said. "And I mean listen carefully. The rest of this week, I don't want you to spend any more time alone with those boys than you absolutely have to. But if you end up with them and they give you any more lip about being a Methodist or whatever, I want you to go after Rodney and punch his lights out. Use that thumb hold Daddy taught you for starters."
"But is that okay?" Jenny asked. "Don't I have to forgive them? Aren't I supposed to turn the other cheek?"
No, you're not, Joanna thought. And you don't have to be a victim, either. She said, "'They've pulled these name-calling stunts more than once, haven't they?"
"Yes," Jenny replied. "The whole time they've been here."
"'Then you've already turned the other cheek as much as you need to," Joanna assured her daughter. "The next time they look at you cross-eyed, let 'em have it."
"But what will Grandpa and Grandma say?" Jenny objected. "What if they get mad at me?"
"'They won't, not if you tell them what's been going on."
Joanna heard a sound in the background. "That's Grandma Brady now," Jenny said. "It's time for dinner. Do you want to talk to her?"
Joanna took a deep breath. "Sure," she said. "You go eat, and I'll talk to Grandma." Moments later, Eva Lou came on the line. They chatted for a few minutes before Joanna brought up Rodney and Brian. "What's going on with those boys?" she asked.
"'That's it," Eva Lou said. "They're just being boys."
"It sounds to me as though they're out of control."
"Well, maybe a little," Eva Lou agreed.
Joanna didn't want to step over any lines, nor did she want to make it sound as though Jenny was being a tattletale. "Try to keep an eye on them," Joanna said. "Some extra adult supervision never hurt anybody."
Long after she put down the phone, Joanna lay on the conch, staring up at the ceiling, her heart seething with a combination of worry and anger. Why do kids have to be such monsters? she wondered. The incident reminded her of the little flock of leghorns Eva Lou used to keep out in the chicken yard. Among chickens, even a small difference from the rent of the flock would be enough to provoke an unrelenting attack. After a while, the different one would just give up. It wouldn't even bother to fight back.
From that standpoint, Joanna had no doubt that she had given Jenny good advice. The last thing bullies like Rodney and Brian expected was for a helpless victim to turn on them and beat the crap out of them. Which Jenny was fully capable of doing. Andy had seen to that. He had taught his daughter both offensive and defensive moves, making sure she knew how to use them.
Shaking her head, Joanna rolled off the couch. Carrying the phone with her, she made her way into the bedroom and stripped off her clothes. Only when she was standing there naked did she realize that her favorite set of summer attire-sports bra, tank top, shorts, and undies-was still in the dryer, where she had left it on her way to work early that morning.
Eleanor Lathrop, Joanna's mother, had done her utmost to inculcate Joanna with the same kinds of repression and overweening modesty in which she herself had been raised. In Eleanor's scheme of things, walking naked through her own house-even a good mile from the nearest neighbor-would have been utterly unthinkable. But Eleanor was out of town this week, on a belated Alaskan honeymoon cruise with George Winfield, Cochise County 's new medical examiner and Eleanor's new husband of some three months' standing. No, if Joanna happened to walk around naked in her own home, who was going to give a damn? Certainly not the two dogs.