The Word of a Child (3 page)

The flash of fear and anger faded. "Oh."

"Can you repeat your story for Mrs. Patterson?"

"The
principal?"
she said in dismay.

"She'll have to hear it, you know. And then I'm afraid
you'll have to tell the police or a social worker. You may even have to testify
in court."

"In court?" Tracy shrank back. "They can't
just fire him?"

"It's not that simple. How can he be fired on the basis
of one student saying he did something? He'll likely be suspended while an
investigation goes on, but unless he admits to having relations with you, he
may have to be convicted of a crime before he can be fired."

The teenager looked genuinely frightened now. "But …
what if I won't talk in court?"

Mariah hated having to tell the poor girl what she'd set in
motion by choosing to come to a teacher.

"Now that you've told me," she said
sympathetically, "I
have
to report your story. That's the law for teachers. It would certainly
be hard to convict Mr. Tanner if you won't testify. That would leave him free
to molest other girls. Do you want that?" She gave Tracy a moment to
reflect, then levered herself out of the student desk. "I'm going to call
Mrs. Patterson to come here right now. Please stay and tell her, just like you
did me. The worst is over, Tracy. It'll be easier this time, I promise."

Tracy
sat
hunched and small while they waited. Feeling out of her depth, Mariah talked
gently about boys and how nice kisses were when both parties wanted them and
how inexcusable it was for an adult to compel a child to have intercourse.

Noreen Patterson was a plump woman of perhaps forty filled
with good cheer that didn't disguise her willingness to command.

The good humor faded the moment Mariah said gravely, "Tracy has something to tell you."

Tracy
did
haltingly tell her story for the principal. Afterward Noreen hugged her and
said, "I'll call your mother. We need to talk to her."

"Will you fire him?"

The principal explained again about the necessity for an
investigation, which Tracy took as an insult. "You don't believe me!"

As Mariah had a class, Mrs. Patterson took Tracy away. She
paused to murmur, "Will you come to my office at the end of the day?"

"Yes, of course."

Her seventh-graders were reading
As You Like It
aloud,
stumbling over unfamiliar words and requiring constant explanations of
Shakespearean language. Perhaps Shakespeare was too difficult for them, she
thought, but then a student would read a passage with sudden understanding and
relish for the rich language, and she would decide she'd been right to
challenge them.

Today it was very difficult to keep her mind on the reading.
Several times she was recalled by a loud, "Ms. Stavig? Ms. Stavig? I don't
get it."

She avoided the faculty room during her break to be sure she
didn't run into Gerald Tanner, the computer teacher. He was likely to seek her
out, as they'd talked about doing a joint project that involved Internet
research in his class and a paper in hers.

She liked Gerald, who was new at the middle school this
year. A tall bony man who made her think of Ichabod Crane, he was in his late
thirties and had been teaching at a community college before he'd decided to
"get 'em young," as he'd put it.

Sexually? she wondered now in distaste.

But what if Tracy was lying for some reason? She might be
afraid of her mother's current boyfriend who had raped her, or mad at Gerald
because he was flunking her, or… The possibilities were endless. She had seemed
genuinely distraught, but Mariah had thought before that Tracy, who was in her
beginning drama class, had real talent on the stage.

The accusation alone could be enough to ruin Gerald's career
as a teacher; such stories tended to follow a man.

She had reason to know.

Simon had lost his job after rumors got around, even though
the accusation was never substantiated and he was never taken to trial. The
excuse for firing him was trumped up, and he had known the real reason, but he
couldn't do anything about it. Now, three years later, he lived in Bremerton, where nobody whispered, but he'd had to take a job working at the Navy shipyard
that wasn't as good as the one he'd lost.

He'd lost his wife, too, but she didn't want to think about
that. Not today.

This was different, Mariah told herself; the victim was old
enough to speak for herself, and it might not be too late for doctors to
recover sperm and therefore DNA. This wasn't anything like a child's perhaps
wild—or perhaps not—accusation.

Zofie's daddy.

She would hear the quiet accusation until the day she died.
Not in the little girl's voice, because she'd never seen Lily Thalberg again.
After the notoriety, after the investigation had stalled, the Thalbergs had
moved away, wanting a fresh start, a friend of a friend had told Mariah. No,
Mariah heard her husband named as a molester in the deep, certain voice of that
police officer. Detective Connor McLean. He'd believed Lily Thalberg, she could
tell. It was partly his certainty that had eaten at Mariah in the days and
weeks following his initial visit, when Simon became furious at her smallest,
meekest question and when she began to look at Zofie and worry.

She hated remembering. Second-guessing herself, feeling
guilt again because she hadn't stood behind her husband.

Why did Tracy have to come to her? she wondered wretchedly.

Her last student was barely out of the classroom when Mariah
followed, locking the door behind her. In the office, the secretary said,
"Mrs. Patterson is expecting you," and waved her down the hall where
the counselors and the principal and vice principal had their offices.

Both Mrs. Patterson and Mr. Lamarr, the vice principal, were
in the office, she saw as she opened the door. But they weren't alone. A second
man who had been standing by the window turned as Mariah entered.

Her breath escaped in a gasp and she stopped halfway inside,
clutching the doorknob.

As the big man with short, reddish-brown hair faced her, his
light gray eyes widened briefly just before his expression became utterly
impassive.

Anyone but him, she thought wildly. His voice would live
forever in her nightmares and as the kernel of her guilt. If it had occurred to
her he might be sent… But it hadn't.

She heard herself say hoarsely, "I'm sorry, I
can't…" as she began to back up.

Noreen Patterson half rose from her chair behind the desk.
"Mariah, what is it?"

Her wild gaze touched on
him.
She was
breathing like an untamed creature caught in a trap. "I … I just
can't…" she said again, her voice high and panicky.

He said nothing, only waited at the far end of the office. A
nerve spasmed under one eye, the only visible sign he understood her distress
or felt it.

The vice principal had reached her. Gripping her arm, he
said, "What is it? Are you sick, Mariah?"

Sick.
She
seized on an excuse no one would dispute.

"Yes." She swallowed. "I'm sorry. I'm not
feeling very well."

Detective Connor McLean abruptly turned his back so that he
looked out the window rather than at her.

"The flu is going around," Ed Lamarr said.
"Here. Why don't you come in and sit down."

In? She couldn't.

But it seemed she could, because she allowed herself to be
led to the chairs facing Noreen's desk. Sinking into one, she tried not to look
at the broad, powerful back of the man gazing out the window.

The principal sank back into her seat. "Do you feel
well enough to talk about Tracy for a minute?"

Mariah breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth.
Slowly, carefully. She could be strong. He had never threatened her, never
raised his voice.

He had only destroyed her marriage and her belief in both
her husband and herself.

No. Her fingernails bit into her thighs. Be fair. It was
childish to hold him responsible. He was not the accuser. If he had not come,
it would have been someone else. He was only the messenger. The arm of the law.

Lily Thalberg's voice.

As now he would be Tracy Mitchell's.

"Yes." Miraculously Mariah heard herself sound
calm, if far away to her own ears. "I'm fine."

"Ah. Well, let us know if it gets the best of
you."

Mariah sat with her knees and ankles together, her spine
regally straight. Poised. A lady, who would never let anything get the best of
her. "Of course," she agreed.

"Then I want you to meet Detective Connor McLean of the
Port Dare Police Department."

Had he recognized her, or only seen that the sight of him
upset her?

He turned.

She said stiffly, "How do you do." He nodded.
"Ms. Stavig."

Noreen smiled at Mariah. "Tracy Mitchell chose to come
to Mariah. She tells me 'everyone' says you can be trusted."

Mariah focused fiercely on the principal, blocking out her
awareness of the police officer.

"In this case, of course, I couldn't keep what she told
me confidential. In the future, students may not think I can be trusted."

"She understands that you did what you have to
do."

"Did she ask you to keep what she told you
confidential, Ms. Stavig?" asked Detective McLean.

Mariah stared fixedly at the pencil cup on the principal's
desk. It was a crudely made and glazed coil pot, a child's effort.
"No," she said. "What Tracy wanted, I think, was for Mr. Tanner
to be fired. She must have realized I didn't have the power to accomplish that.
She did get somewhat upset at the idea of the police becoming involved, and
particularly that she might have to testify in court."

From her peripheral vision, she saw him pull a notebook from
an inside pocket of his well-cut gray suit coat. "Will you repeat what she
told you to the best of your memory, Ms. Stavig? I believe she may have been
more expansive with you than she was with Mrs. Patterson."

"Yes. Okay." Mariah took a deep breath and began,
at first disjointedly, feeling herself blush at the recitation of physical
details, before pulling herself together to conclude like the articulate
teacher she was.

"What was your first reaction?" the detective
asked.

"That one of her mother's boyfriends…" Mariah
stopped herself and felt heat in her cheeks.

The principal smiled ruefully. "The same thought
occurred to me."

"Is it possible she's accusing Mr. Tanner as a
smokescreen?"

When no one else responded, Mariah did. "Anything is
possible."

He continued gently, relentlessly. "Tell me what you
know of her home life."

Mariah did, watching from the corner of her eyes as he took
detailed notes.

"Do you know Gerald Tanner well?"

Surprised and made uneasy by the question, Mariah was unwary
enough to look at him. Their eyes met briefly, and she turned her head quickly.

"Well, um, no," she fumbled. "He's new this
year…"

"Aren't you planning a project together?" Ed
Lamarr asked.

"Yes." Mariah explained. "We've never had any
discussions I'd consider personal, however. I don't even know if he's married
or has children."

"Actually he's single," Noreen contributed.
"No children."

Mariah didn't want to know that or anything else about her colleague.
She wanted this never to have happened.

"What will you do?" she asked the principal.

"I've asked him to come to my office. I'll have to tell
him about the accusation, of course. Tracy has gone to the hospital for an
exam, and, um…"