She nodded. "It can be tough." She drank some wine.
"Where do you teach?" I said.
"The U., adult extension. This quarter I'm doing Personality Theory and Human Relations."
"All that and a practice. Sounds like a busy schedule," I said.
"I'm a workaholic," she said, with sudden cheer. "Hyperactivity channeled in a socially appropriate manner."
My beer arrived. We both drank. I was about to get down to substance, when she said, "The girl you described. Would that be Caroline Cossack?"
I put down my mug. "You knew Caroline?"
"So it was her."
"How did you know?"
"From your description."
"She stood out?"
"Oh, yes."
"What can you tell me about her?"
"Not much, I'm afraid. She stood out because of how they labeled her. There was a pink tab on her chart, the only one I'd seen. And I'd seen most of the charts, was a gofer that summer, running errands, picking up and delivering files. They used a color-coding system to alert the staff if a kid had a medical problem. Yellow for juvenile diabetes, blue for asthma, that kind of thing. Caroline Cossack's tab was pink and when I asked someone what that meant, they said it was a behavioral warning. High risk for acting out. That and your saying it might be a police case helped me put it together."
"So Caroline was high risk for violence."
"Someone thought so, back then."
"What specifically were they worried about?" I said.
"I don't know. She never did anything wrong during the month I was there."
"But she was the only one labeled like that."
"Yes," she said. "There weren't a lot of kids, period. Maybe thirty. Back then Achievement House was exactly what it is today: a repository for rich kids who fail to perform to their parents' expectations. Chronically truant, drug-abusing, noncompliant, children of the dream."
I thought: Take away the dream and you had Janie and Melinda.
"But," she went on, "they were basically harmless kids. Other than the obvious sneaky doping and drinking, nothing seriously antisocial went on that I saw."
"Harmless kids locked up," I said.
"It wasn't that draconian," she said. "More carrot than stick. High-priced baby-sitting. They locked the doors at night, but it didn't feel like a prison."
"What else can you tell me about Caroline?"
"She didn't seem scary, at all. I recall her as quiet and passive. That's why the behavioral warning surprised me."
She licked her lips, moved her wineglass aside. "That's really all I can tell you. I was a student volunteer, fresh out of high school, didn't ask questions." Her face tilted to the left. The enormous blue eyes didn't blink. "Bringing up that place is… not the most fun thing I've done all week. Larry told you about my experience there with Larner."
I nodded.
"If the same thing happened today," she said, "you can bet I'd be a lot more proactive. Probably page Gloria Allred, close that place down, and walk away with a settlement. But I'm not blaming myself for how I handled it. So… have you worked with the police for a while?"
"A few years."
"Do you find it difficult?"
"Difficult in what way?" I said.
"All the authoritarian personalities, for starts."
"Mostly, I deal with one detective," I said. "He's a good friend."
"Oh," she said. "So you find it fulfilling."
"It can be."
"What aspect?"
"Trying to explain the unexplainable."
One of her hands covered the other. Jewelry everywhere else, but no rings on her fingers. Why had I noticed that?
I said, "If you don't mind, I have a few more questions about Caroline."
She grinned. "Go ahead."
"Did you have much personal contact with her?"
"Nothing direct, but I was allowed to sit in on some therapy groups, and she was in one of them. General purpose rap session. The leader tried to draw her out, but Caroline never talked, would just stare at the floor and pretend not to hear. I could tell she was taking it in, though. When she got upset, her facial muscles twitched."
"What upset her?"
"Any personal probing."
"What was she like physically?" I said.
"All this interest twenty years later?" she said. "You can't tell me what she did?"
"She may have done nothing," I said. "Sorry to be evasive, but this is all very preliminary." Unofficial, too. "A lot of my work is random archaeology."
Both her hands cupped her wineglass. "No gory details? Aw shucks." She laughed, showed perfect teeth. "I'm not sure I'd really want to know, anyway. Okay, Caroline, physically… this is all through the perspective of my seventeen-year-old eyes. She was short, kind of mousy… a little chubby- unkempt. Stringy hair… mousy brown, she wore it to here." She leveled a hand at her own shoulder. "It always looked unwashed. She had acne… what else? She had a defeated posture, as if something heavy sat on her shoulders. The kids were allowed to dress any way they wanted, but Caroline always wore the same shapeless dresses- old lady's housedresses. I wonder where she found them."
"Dressing down," I said. "She sounds depressed."
"Definitely."
"Did she hang around with the other kids?"
"No, she was a loner. Shleppy, withdrawn. I guess today I'd look at her and be thinking schizoid."
"But they saw her as potentially aggressive."
"They did."
"How'd she spend her time?"
"Mostly she sat in her room by herself, dragged herself to meals, returned alone. When I'd pass her in the hall, I'd smile and say hello. But I kept my distance because of the pink tab. A couple of times I think she nodded back, but mostly she shuffled on, keeping her eyes down."
"Was she medicated?"
"I never read her chart. Now that I think about it, it's possible."
"The group leader who tried to draw her out. Do you remember a name?"
"Jody Lavery," she said. "She was a clinical social worker- very nice to me when I had my problem with Larner. Years later I ran into her at a convention, and we ended up becoming friends, did some cross-referring. But forget about talking to her. She died two years ago. And she and I never talked about Caroline. Caroline was more of a nonentity than an entity. If not for the pink tab, I probably wouldn't have paid her any attention, at all. In fact, the only-"
"Sir, madam," said the waiter. Our dishes were set in place, and we cut into our steaks.
"Excellent," I said, after the first bite.
"Glad you like it." She speared a french fry.
"You were about to say something."
"Was I?"
"You were talking about Caroline not being memorable. Then you said 'In fact, the only- ' "
"Hmm- oh yes, I was saying the only person I ever saw her talk to was one of the maintenance men. Willie something… a black guy… Willie Burns. I remember his name because it was the same as Robert Burns and I recall thinking there was nothing Scottish about him."
"He paid special attention to Caroline?"
"I suppose you could say that. Once or twice I came across him and Caroline chatting in the hall, and they moved apart very quickly and Willie resumed working. And one time I did see Willie coming out of Caroline's room, carrying a mop and broom. When he saw me, he said she'd been sick, he was cleaning up. Volunteering an explanation. It was kind of furtive. Whatever the situation, Burns didn't stick around long. One week, he was there, then he was gone and Caroline went back to being alone."
"A week," I said.
"It seemed like a short period."
"Do you remember what month this was?"