“And at my departmental trial I’ll testify that your mental condition is precarious, at best. I could probably make a good case for that.”
Harry looked off to the side and fought off a smile. “I bet you could,” he said when he finally turned back. “She has a parole hearing coming up. My adoptive father-he’s a retired Clearwater cop-has been in touch with a friend in the state’s attorney’s office in Tampa to see if they’re planning to oppose it. So far he hasn’t been able to get a straight answer.”
“And you? Are you going to oppose it?”
“She killed my kid brother and she tried to kill me. I want her locked up.”
“Have you heard from her?”
“The same letter I get every year, on the anniversary of my brother’s death. She tells me how much she wants me in heaven with Jesus and Jimmy.”
Vicky looked down at the floor. “That must hurt a lot.”
Harry’s jaw tightened. “It’ll hurt a helluva lot more if she tries to send me there.”
Vicky raised her eyes and kept her voice soft. “What will you do if she does?”
Harry stared at her for what seemed a long time. She wondered if he was trying to work the answer out himself. His eyes blinked, then he drew another long breath. His voice was cold and flat when he finally spoke.
“I’ll stop her,” he said.
Vicky studied his eyes but could find nothing revealing. There had been a note of finality in his voice, a hint of impending matricide, and she wondered if it was something he could really do. It certainly didn’t fit the man she had come to know. But her years as a cop had taught her that people were sometimes forced to do things beyond the pale of what they would normally consider. It might be that way for Harry, and she wondered if he could emotionally survive if forced to commit an act so terrible. She knew she could not.
“Okay, you got your pound of flesh, now tell me about Darlene’s parents; what they told you about her.”
His question brought her back and she put her other thoughts aside. “Most of what I learned came from the mother. It was very interesting. You remember Darlene’s claim that she was sexually abused as a child?”
“It was a big part of her defense, one of the excuses she gave for what she did to that boy.”
“Yeah, it was. Well, the mother confirmed that abuse, but in an odd way. When she talked about Darlene’s childhood, she claimed that even as a little kid she liked to sexually tease men. The mother said it started when she was only eight or nine years old; that even then she liked to sit on men’s laps and when she did she would ‘wiggle’ around in a provocative way.” Vicky used her fingers to place imaginary quotes around the word, indicating she thought little of the accusation. “She claimed Darlene would also put her head on their chests and give them long, lingering hugs.”
“So she claimed that Darlene brought the abuse on herself.”
“That’s exactly what she wanted me to believe, although she never came out and said it directly. It was so damn obvious what she was doing. She was deflecting blame away from herself as a parent.”
“Did she say who Darlene supposedly teased?”
“No, she didn’t, it was all very general. She claimed it was just about every adult man she met.”
Harry paused. “Why do you think she wouldn’t be specific? Was it because the father was there?”
“Yeah, I think it was. Are you thinking that maybe the father might have been the abuser?”
Harry nodded. “It’s always a possibility.”
“Yeah, and that’s exactly the vibe I got off the whole conversation.” Vicky tapped the side of her nose. “The father was very quiet throughout the conversation. Mostly he nodded agreement to whatever his wife said. Whenever I asked for his opinion he deferred to her, claiming she was in a better position to know; that he was away a great deal of the time when Darlene was growing up. I gathered that his job in the navy took him out to sea for long tours of duty.” Vicky bent forward as if preparing to impart some secret. “The mother said she tried to get Darlene to stop what she called ‘this obvious sexual flirting,’ which of course was nothing more than a kid imitating what she’d seen adult women do, either in person or on film or television. When I asked her if she’d had any success modifying that behavior, she said everything she tried failed, even though Darlene had been severely punished-those were her words.” Vicky shook her head. “So what we had was a young girl who was getting a positive response from men when acting flirtatious and anger from the primary female in her life, her mother.”
“But that experience alone couldn’t have been enough to turn her into a child molester.” Harry’s voice had become incredulous.
Vicky vigorously shook her head. “No, of course not. I think it was a contributing factor, but no more than that. Look, I consider myself an expert on sex crimes, but I’m certainly no shrink. Based on what I’ve read of her history, it’s no secret she was a very disturbed woman and I’d bet anything that her claim in court that she suffered from some bipolar disorder wasn’t very far off the mark. And maybe we add some heavy abuse as a kid.”
Harry was quiet for several moments, digesting what Vicky had said. When he spoke again his voice was soft and low and slightly raspy. “It still doesn’t excuse what she did to that little boy.”
Vicky studied Harry’s eyes, wondering if they were still talking about Darlene Beckett. “No, it doesn’t,” she finally said. “Illness may explain why something happens, Harry, but it never excuses the act.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Bobby Joe listened to his daddy’s voice rumble through the speaker. He was seated in Walter Middlebrooks’s well-appointed office, his father hundreds of miles away in Atlanta, but even so he could still see the look on his father’s face; feel the anger emanating from his eyes, just as if he were seated across the room listening to his son’s stream of excuses.
“Who can you give this cop that’ll get him off your back?” his father demanded, cutting him off. “And understand me, boy, I mean somebody who is not gonna lead him right back to my church.”
Bobby Joe could not think of anyone who would not hurt the church. There was one whose involvement with the church might be overshadowed by other facets of his life. But he also knew what would happen if he ever offered him up, and he had no intention of paying that high a price for his daddy’s fucking church.
“I’m not hearin’ any answers, boy.”
“I’m tryin’ to think, Daddy. Almost all the people who were keeping an eye on Darlene were church people, at least in the beginning right after you sent out the call.”
“There was no call, damnit. And don’t you ever tell anybody there was. And stop callin’ that harlot by her first name. I know you were sleepin’ with her, but I don’t have to hear her talked about like she was a good, God-fearin’ woman. And certainly not one who was bein’ persecuted by me.”
“Yes, Daddy.” He musta forgot, Bobby Joe thought. He musta forgot how he preached it from his goddamn pulpit and had it written down in his goddamn church bulletin.
“So, who?” his father’s voice shouted across the line. “Who are you gonna give up to this cop?”
“I’m thinkin’, Daddy.”
“Well, think faster.”
Bobby Joe looked at Middlebrooks, his eyes begging for support. Middlebrooks turned away, just as older adults had turned away from him his whole life. Then an idea came to him. It was an audacious idea and a dangerous one, but there might be a way to pull it off if he got his daddy and Middlebrooks to do it for him.
“There was one person that Dar… that Mizz Beckett talked about. He really seemed to make her nervous.”
“Who was it?”
“It was this cop who she said was pressing her to… to… well, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” His father’s voice was riddled with sarcasm. “To do what my own son was already doin’ with that strumpet.”