The Spire (30 page)

'Maybe so. Things happen all your life that no one else can fix.' Then Darrow thought of Farr and Taylor, and wondered if this was true.

Laurie's gaze became open, curious. 'But you're okay now''

'Better. Part of that is the Caldwell job. It's a daily challenge, and it keeps me busy and engaged'there's nowhere for a college president to hide.'

'It seems like you really care about Caldwell, Mark.'

'I do. I just hibernated for sixteen years.'

Laurie sipped her wine. 'I don't blame you.'

To Darrow, this sounded more like a shared emotion than sympathy. 'It was tough on all of us, Laurie. We weren't prepared for what happened.'

She put a curled finger to her lips. 'I still think about that party, talking with you. It was only a few hours later . . .' Her voice trailed off, and then she gave him a sideways look. 'Do you ever see Joe''

'Quite a bit, lately.'

'How is he''

'Pretty good, I think. As far as I can tell, he's got a stable marriage and two nice kids.' Darrow paused, looking at her. 'It probably helps that he sticks to sparkling water.'

Laurie bit her lip, nodding toward her empty glass. 'I don't, clearly.'

Darrow felt caught between the desire to keep her talking and misgivings just as deep. 'So let's have one more for the road,' he said, and hated the sound of that.

Laurie nodded. As Darrow caught the waitress's eye, she said, 'I'm a friendly drunk, you'll be glad to know. Not like Joe.'

'Yeah. I remember how he was.'

'Maybe so,' Laurie responded with a somber tone. 'But not as well as I do.'

When the wine arrived, Darrow took a sip. 'I also remember,' he ventured, 'Joe talking about his father getting drunk and beating on his mother.'

Laurie's mouth twisted in a smile that made her appear both hard and tired. 'He never said that to me. But everyone needs a role model, I guess.'

Darrow met her eyes, feeling torn between acceptance and dread. 'Joe hit you''

'Not in the beginning.' She shook her head, as though to clear it. 'This is pretty hard to talk about. I never really have'for a whole set of reasons, I guess. Is this anything you really want to know''

'Yes. At least if you'd like to tell me.'

The fleeting look she gave him was both grateful and reluctant. 'When I first left Steve for Joe,' she said at length, 'he was gentle. But part of the attraction was that Joe was wounded'I believed that beneath the spoiled rich kid was a boy who'd been hurt. I was the girl who could help him heal.' As she paused, Darrow noted the slight slur in her voice merging with a delay in choosing words. 'One night he got really drunk at a party, and he said he wanted to 'fuck' me right away. So he bent me over a chair in someone else's room, all the time saying disgusting things. It felt more like rape than sex.' Briefly her eyes closed. 'He kept asking if he was better than Steve. And bigger.'

Darrow felt uneasy. 'Yeah,' he said with gentle irony. 'It's the fear that haunts us all.'

'You're not like that,' Laurie said emphatically. 'Steve wasn't either.' Abruptly she paused, the flush of her cheeks deepening. 'At least not with me. When I dumped him, he was angry, but I never thought he'd hit me'not once. Instead he just felt terrible.'

Darrow paused. Quietly, he said, 'So Steve tells me.'

She looked up again. 'You saw him, too''

'Yeah. He's changed a lot'bitter, but also thoughtful. There's more to Steve than most people got.'

'Not me. I always knew that Steve saw and felt more than he said'like you, I guess. When I was with Joe, sometimes, I wondered why I'd left Steve. My ex-husband is the answer. Meet a prick, and I still imagine seeing a wounded boy.'

Weighing how much to press her, Darrow looked around them. The crowd in the bar, commercial travelers in the final stages of enforced conviviality, was dwindling. 'That night,' he said, 'I thought Joe might have hit you.'

As though remembering, Laurie touched her face. 'He had. But it happened the night before.'

'_What_ happened, exactly''

'It wasn't the first time. He'd get drunk. Then suddenly he'd be jealous of Steve, like alcohol flipped a switch in his brain'I think he even scared himself a little. My father used to say, Never be with a man who scares you. That night was when I got scared for good.'

The quiet fervor with which she pronounced this intimated something left unsaid. Softly, Darrow asked, 'What was different''

As Laurie drained her wine, Darrow signaled for another. A long silence ensued, Darrow waiting her out. In a monotone, Laurie said, 'I've never told this to anyone.'

'Then maybe it's time.'

Laurie averted her eyes. When the chardonnay arrived, she took a quick swallow. 'I was alone in his room, studying. I didn't expect him for an hour. So I did what a lot of other girls would do'started going through my boyfriend's drawers. The first two drawers only told me what I already knew'college boys are slobs.'

She stopped abruptly, fingers twisting a strand of frosted hair. 'And then'' Darrow asked.

'I opened the last drawer.' Her voice became pinched. 'It was filled with magazines. Pornography.'

She looked so disturbed that Darrow hesitated. 'And that was what scared you''

Laurie's expression became self-questioning. 'Was I scared then' Or just disgusted' I can't put myself back there when so much has happened. I just stared at the magazines, one after the other, until all I could hear was the way he talked when he was inside me.' Her voice softened. 'Except I couldn't have been in the pictures.'

Puzzled, Darrow watched her. 'Because''

'Because I wasn't black.' Laurie's throat twitched. 'It was like something from a slave-ship fantasy, white men degrading black women in chains, sodomizing or whipping them. When I felt myself wanting to vomit, I closed the drawer.

'Joe came back an hour later, drunk. He wanted me. I told him no'because of how he was, and because of the pictures. His eyes got wild, and he asked if I still wanted to do it with Steve. I was so disgusted I said, 'Only when I want to feel like a woman.' Then he hit me across the face.'

'What did you do''

'I said I never wanted to see him again.' She paused again, looking up at Darrow. 'He started to cry, almost sob. Then he said in this kind of whisper, 'Tell anyone about this, and I'll kill you.' '

Darrow felt a chill. 'So you didn't.'

'No.' Laurie took a sip of wine, unable to look at Darrow. 'I was like Joe. Too ashamed for people to know what he was like, or the things I let him do.'

Darrow tried to find something to say. Finally, he said, 'I think I understand.'

Laurie shook her head, rejecting easy comfort. 'After you found Angela Hall, I thought about telling someone. But then it turned out she was with Steve.'

Darrow was silent until she met his gaze again. 'So you didn't have to say anything about Joe hitting you.'

'Yes,' she answered dully. 'Or those pictures.'

So the police had missed it, Darrow thought, as had Steve Tillman's lawyer. Both, it seemed clear, should have scoured Joe Betts's life much harder. How many people, he wondered now, had been served by Steve's guilt'if only to salve their conscience or put unspoken misgivings about Angela's murder safely behind them. He understood Laurie Shilts well enough: she had never wished to speak of these things, just as part of Darrow wished that he had never heard them. But now he bore the weight of knowing. Gently, he said, 'In the end, it only mattered to you.'

She gave him the bleakest of smiles. 'You're such a good guy, Mark. You always were.'

A useful attribute, Darrow thought uncomfortably, if you wanted to manipulate someone. 'So tell me,' she continued in a throatier voice, 'does a nice guy like you have anyone now' I hope that's not a tasteless question.'

Darrow smiled, shaking his head. 'After two years, a fair one. The answer is maybe. But I don't know whether it's real yet, or how long it can last. She and I are in very different places.'

Saying this, he realized that he had spoken of Taylor to no one save her father. Hearing himself say the last phrase aloud, he realized how true it was.

Perhaps it showed on his face. 'Only time will tell,' Laurie said. 'Sorry if I unloaded on you.'

Darrow heard the regret in her voice, perhaps the fear of making herself less attractive. 'It's been really nice to see you,' he assured her. 'If you ever need to talk, just call me.'

Hope and doubt mingled in her eyes. 'Better go now, huh' It's a school day for us both.'

Standing, she teetered for an instant. 'Let me get you a cab,' Darrow said.

Laurie steadied herself. 'Am I really that bad off''

The bar was empty now, Darrow noticed. 'No,' he answered. 'But I had a bad experience with this once, and you've got Chloe to look after. Call me overresponsible.'

She took his arm, grateful to depend on him but still working out the logistics. 'Tomorrow I have to drive her to school.'

'Don't worry,' Darrow said firmly. 'I'll send a car for you and Chloe in the morning, and another one after school's out. You can tell anyone who cares that you've got car trouble, and a paranoid new boyfriend.'

Laurie smiled. 'That would keep them guessing, wouldn't it''

Darrow walked her outside and hailed a cab. As she got in, Laurie kissed him on the cheek.

Darrow stood there for a time. It was just as well, he supposed, that Taylor was not sleeping over. He had far too much to think about.

D

ARROW BARELY SLEPT. L ATE THE NEXT MORNING, AFTER several more hours of thought, he decided to telephone Carl Hall.

To Darrow's surprise, given that Hall conducted his business by cell phone, the number was listed. To his greater surprise, Hall answered. 'This is Mark Darrow,' Darrow said without preface. 'We need to talk.'

Warily, Hall asked, 'About what''

'I'll save that for later. Alone, and in person.'

The attenuated quiet that followed, Darrow knew, could be professional caution or something more. 'Give me a clue,' Hall demanded. 'I don't want to be wasting my time.'

Darrow thought quickly. 'Among other things, your sister.'

Hall's voice became quieter, less derisive. 'What about her''

Darrow decided to take a chance. 'You can talk to me, Carl. Or I can go to Garrison.'

'I guess you know where I live,' Hall said at length.

'I can find it.'

'Tonight then. Say ten o'clock.'

Hall hung up.

Darrow sat at his desk, motionless, wondering what mistake he might have made, what secret Angela's brother might harbor. All he knew was that Carl Hall had one.

DARROW SPENT THE day on autopilot. He met with the chairs of the English and history departments about their needs; wrested more time from Ray Carrick, albeit with increasing difficulty, to dispose of Clark Durbin; importuned a wealthy but irate alumna not to strike Caldwell from her will; began recruiting a committee of alumni, faculty, and board members to address Caldwell's goals and more sharply define the school's identity; spoke to a specialist in minority recruitment; coordinated with Taylor to find dates for their trip to Boston; then asked the alumni relations director to schedule meetings during those days with prominent alumni. After normal working hours he reviewed potential budget cuts over dinner with Josh Daily, Caldwell's chief financial officer, and Joe Betts, who also suggested ways of further protecting Caldwell's endowment from adverse market conditions. Pushing his disquiet to the edges of his consciousness, Darrow did not mention Laurie Shilts. By the time he reached home, it was well past eight o'clock, and the house felt more lonely than normal. Contrary to his usual custom, he did not watch the news.

Something was badly wrong, he believed, and had been for sixteen years. Whatever that was, Darrow had the sense'more intuitive than reasoned'that it shadowed Caldwell still. But until he learned more, he could trust no one with his thoughts, not even Farr or Garrison. Neither man, he was sure, would feel this unease as keenly as he; both might reasonably question his preoccupation with Angela Hall's murder and'given Caldwell's very real problems'Darrow's judgment in stepping outside his role. He could not yet put a name to his suspicions, or risk his own or another person's reputation by accusing someone other than Steve Tillman.

He sat in the living room, glancing at his watch, turning facts and surmises over in his mind, arranging and rearranging them in a kaleidoscope of possibilities. The ones that troubled him most were those he could least afford to speak aloud.

At nine forty-five, Darrow left the house.

CARL H ALL LIVED in a ranch-style home surrounded by several acres of fallow land, sequestered at the end of a cul-de-sac on the outer reaches of Wayne. Everything about it served the interests of a man running an illegal business: the gravel drive was long, and the house itself, shrouded by trees, could not be seen from the road. At night, Hall's normal business hours, a visitor could come and go without being identified. But as Darrow parked near the house, his footsteps crunching gravel, it struck him that for a man in a dangerous business this solitude could be a problem, depriving Hall of the protections offered by living on an urban block. No doubt Hall had weapons.

There were no lights on inside the house. Perhaps this was defensive; perhaps not. But Darrow felt pinpricks on the back of his neck. More clearly now, he saw the risk inherent in having told no one of this visit to an isolated place. If the threat he posed to Hall was greater than he knew, Hall might well make him disappear. Darrow did not like the stillness all around him, the darkness of the house itself.

He stepped up to the porch and stopped. Eyes adjusting to the thin moonlight, he found the doorbell. The ring inside chimed through what must have been an open window.

Nothing. Darrow tried again. Aside from the bell, the only sound he heard was the chirping of crickets.

He pressed the door latch with his thumb. To his surprise, the door was unlocked. Carefully, Darrow slipped into the dark inside, the door still open behind him.

'Carl'' he said quietly. His own voice sounded forlorn to him, hollow in the darkened space.