Eyes of a Child

by Richard North Patterson

  Keene touched his eyes. ‘I don’t know what’s happening here,’ he finally said. ‘These behaviors don’t necessarily mean child abuse. But once the charge is made, people don’t back off. And it affects everyone, for a long time.’ He looked at Richie. ‘Including Elena and this boy.’

  ‘I know,’ Richie answered gravely. ‘Believe me, I know. The only good thing is that this doesn’t involve Terri. At least in the sense that she’s the abuser.’ He turned to Terri, voice suddenly crisp. ‘That means you can fix it, Terri. By keeping her away from Carlo Paget.’

  ‘It’s not that simple,’ Keene put in. ‘Terri has a relationship with the father.’ He turned to Terri. ‘Is it possible you may live together?’

  Terri hesitated. ‘I don’t really know,’ she said, and then made her voice firm again. ‘As a parent, I can’t dismiss what Richie says. But I don’t believe that Carlo would abuse Elena, What I do believe is that Richie’s been saving this as a bargaining chip –’

  ‘My God, Terri,’ Richie’s voice rose suddenly. ‘Are you still clinging to Paget after all this? ‘What does it take?’

  ‘I want Elena tested –’

  ‘That’s a cop-out.’ He stood. ‘Look damn it, I want some guarantees from you.’

  Terri stood to face him. ‘You’ve got one. Elena won’t go near Carlo, all right? For both their sakes. But there will be an evaluation. Elena will get help. We will get to what’s happening with her.’

  ‘You’re damned straight we will. By having a professional turn Paget and his son upside down and inside out. If that’s what you want, then we’re going to do it right.’

  Keene stepped between them. ‘All right, both of you. Enough.’

  Terri sat down; after a moment, so did Richie. She gazed at him across the room. It was strange, Terri thought; suddenly she did not feel anger. What she felt was sadness; what she saw was Carlo, holding Elena’s hand as they walked to the park, the little girl smiling up at him.

  Even Richie seemed subdued. ‘I’m sorry it’s come to this,’ he murmured.

  Keene shrugged. ‘So am I. But it has. I’ll be in touch, with names of three prospective evaluators. Try to agree on one, all right? Otherwise Judge Scatena will have to choose one for you.’

  Keene had little else to say. As they left his office for the final time, he wished them good luck.

  The halls were empty. Richie nodded toward a quiet corner. ‘Let’s talk settlement,’ he said.

  ‘Settlement? I can’t even stand to look at you.’

  ‘I did it for our daughter.’ He shook his head portentously. ‘This has gotten ugly, Terri. Unless we agree, it will only get uglier. For everyone.’

  Terri forced herself to stay there. ‘You mean you’ll make it ugly,’ she said. ‘So what do you want now?’

  ‘My original deal. The one you turned down so Scatena could give you even less time with Elena.’ He ticked off the points. ‘Twenty-five hundred a month to me. Elena to me during the weeks. Weekends to you.’ His voice became commanding. ‘If, and only if, Elena never sees Paget or Carlo again. No handshake deal on that one, Terri. I want it in writing.’

  Terri stared at him. ‘It’s always the same sick little game with you, isn’t it? Drop the bomb, add a few soft words about settlement, and then try to make sure I’m as isolated as possible. But now you’ve found the perfect wedge between Chris and me – our children.’

  ‘Can you really be that infatuated with him?’ He gave her a derisive smile. ‘Then consider his best interests. Your boyfriend wants to go to the Senate, I read. I doubt that raising a child molester is the kind of family values Danny Quayle had in mind. Or, for that matter, whoever Paget may run against.’

  Terri felt her fists clench. ‘I think you’d better spell it out for me, Richie. Every slimy nuance.’

  ‘Oh, I have your attention now. Good.’ His smiled vanished abruptly. ‘What I’m saying is that Elena’s and your boyfriend’s interests are finally the same. That may free you up to think about Elena. For once.’

  ‘You’d use Carlo.’ Her voice was flat. ‘Against Chris.’

  Richie slowly shook his head. ‘You’ve got it backward, Terri. I’d do anything to make you protect our daughter.’ His voice lowered. ‘Anything at all.’

  Terri turned from him, walking away.

  ‘Oh,’ he said behind her. ‘There is one more thing.’

  Terri faced him again. ‘Which is,’ she asked coldly.

  ‘I need some money. In settlement of my community property interests.’ His voice was placid now. ‘I want you to sign a loan application for ten thousand dollars. To make up for the ground I’ve lost, staying with Elena and all.’

  Terri looked at him in disbelief. ‘There is no community money. Just furniture.’

  Richie shrugged. ‘So call it a legal fiction, Ter. And it doesn’t need to be a bank loan.’ His eyes widened, as if at a sudden new thought. ‘Maybe you could talk to your boyfriend . . .’

  Chapter 12

  When Terri had called about Richie’s charges, from a phone booth outside the Administrative Building, the softness in Chris’s voice scared her more than anger would have.

  ‘Do you know what comes to me Terri? Something Carlo told me just before he came to live with me when he was seven.

  ‘What he said was: “I hate myself. I want to kill myself.”’ His tone was still quiet. ‘He wasn’t joking,’ Chris continued. ‘Though he looked at me with a funny smile when he said it. He was testing me. To see if anyone gave a damn about whether he lived or died.

  ‘For eight years, the major purpose of my life has been to tell Carlo, less by words than by being there, that no one in the world was more important to me. The funny thing is, it worked. But while I was trying to change Carlo’s life, someone else’s life changed too. Mine.’ His voice grew softer yet. ‘I love that boy more than Ricardo Arias will ever comprehend.’

  Terri wished she could see his face. Wearily, she answered, ‘I wish this had never happened, Chris.’

  ‘It never did.’ For the first time, Paget’s tone was hard. ‘You were there Terri. Carlo was giving her a bath because we asked him to watch her.’

  ‘I don’t think it happened, either. But Elena told Richie something.’ Her own words became firmer. ‘I like Carlo a lot, and I also know who Richie is. But Elena’s a mess, Chris. I can’t pretend that Richie never raised this.’

  There was another silence. ‘I’ll talk to Carlo,’ he said in a flat voice, and got off.

  Terri made one more telephone call, then drove to Elena’s school.

  When Terri appeared, the little girl ran into her mother’s arms.

  Terri held her close. A moment later, she realized that Leslie Warner was standing there and that she seemed to watch Terri with an air of disapproval.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart,’ Terri murmured. ‘We’re going to see Dr Nash – it’s time for your checkup.’ She left without acknowledging the teacher.

  Elen’s pediatrician was a brisk, no-nonsense woman in her mid thirties. As Elena lay on the examining table with her eyes shut, stoic and silent, Terri hoped that her explanation had soothed her. Elena, she thought sadly, had just turned six.

  Afterward, Dr Nash took Terri aside. ‘I can pretty much rule out intercourse,’ she said bluntly. ‘Beyond that it’s always hard to tell. Unless the child says something.’

  Terri looked around the examining room: Elena was engrossed with coloring books. ‘You can’t tell me anything?’

  The doctor frowned. ‘Nothing physical,’ she finally answered. ‘She was awfully quiet for such a talkative girl. Perhaps she sensed something. But she went through the pelvic alright, and the first time can be scary.’

  In the examination room, a baby started crying. ‘Look,’ Terri said, ‘I need to find out what happened.’

  Nash paused, then clasped Terri’s hand in hers. ‘I’ve got people waiting,’ she said. ‘I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t. If something else comes up,
please call me.’ She hurried off.

  At least, Terri realized, it was Friday; she could take Elena home with her.

  They sat together on the living room rug with Elena’s plastic people. But Elena – whose rich imagination once had invested these figures with distinctive personalities – now seemed to play by rote. When Terri put away the toys, Elena did not protest.

  Terri pulled her daughter close to her. ‘Do you remember,’ she began gently, ‘when we talked about good touching and bad touching?’

  Elena glanced at her, eyes veiled and cautious. She gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  ‘Tell me about bad touching, okay?’

  Elena would not meet her eyes. In a small voice, she said. ‘It’s when someone wants to touch my ‘gina. That’s all.’

  ‘Can you think of anything else?’

  Elena stood abruptly and walked to the corner of the room. Terri went to her, kneeling. ‘Are you all right?’

  A brief nod. The girl’s eyes opened wide, as if to see whether Terri would accept this. ‘Do you remember,’ Terri asked, ‘the day you took a bath at Chris’s house? When Carlo was with you?’

  Elena’s eyes froze.

  Terri forced herself to stay calm. ‘Did Carlo ever touch you, Elena? In a good way or a bad way?’

  Elena turned sideways. Her profile was a line of tension – pursed lips, folded arms, stiff body. Terri slid in front of her. ‘Did you say something to Daddy about Carlo? Or a bath?’

  The child’s eyes flickered. Terri knew what it meant: six-year-old children, when planning to lie, do not disguise it well.

  ‘No,’ Elena said, and turned away.

  Frustrated, Terri clutched her shoulder. ‘You can talk to me, Elena. Just like with Daddy.’

  ‘I can’t.’ Elena whirled abruptly, eyes angry and accusing. ‘You want to take me away from him.’

  Terri was startled. ‘From who?’

  ‘From Daddy. I can never talk to you.’

  Elena turned and ran to her bedroom.

  Terri found her on the bed, crying. When she would not come out for dinner, Terri brought a bowl a ice cream to her room, worried and miserable.

  A half hour later, Elena straggled to the living room with a blanket and a book. ‘Read a story, Mommy. Please?’

  Terri took Elena in her arms and read the story. When she had finished, Elena kissed her on her cheek.

  ‘I love you, Mommy.’ The little girl laid her head on Terri’s shoulder. ‘I wish you would live with us again.’

  Whoever first conceived of a broken heart, Terri thought to herself, must have loved a child.

  An hour later, Chris called. ‘Carlo wants to talk with you,’ he said. ‘We both do.’

  Terri touched her eyes. ‘I’ll try to get my mother.’

  It was nine when she got to Chris’s. Carlo was in the library. For once, he did not wear the baseball cap.

  She sat across from him with Chris standing to the side. Carlo was pale; the effort to look stoic made him seem younger than his age. But his eyes did not waver.

  ‘I never touched her. Not that way. Not even close.’

  His voice had a slight hoarseness. Terri fought to withhold her sympathy. ‘Richie claims she was upset.’

  ‘She wanted to take a bath, she told me.’ His words were shot with pain. ‘Jesus, Terri, she’s a little kid.’

  Terri glanced up at Chris. Impassive, he seemed to be appraising Carlo. ‘Did you help her undress?’ Terri asked. ‘Anything like that?’

  ‘No way. She had her clothes off before I even started the water. All I did was make sure she wouldn’t drown.’

  ‘How did taking a bath come up?’

  ‘Kids do things, that’s all.’ He shook his head in wonder. ‘What else does she say?’

  ‘Nothing. Just folded her arms and denied talking to Richie. Which is a lie.’

  Carlo exhaled. ‘She’s a nice kid,’ he said finally. ‘But I wish I’d never met her.’

  Terri felt a sliver of sadness; whatever the truth, the good between Carlo and Elena had vanished. And, perhaps, between Carlo and Terri herself.

  ‘I’ve got something else to say.’ Carlo’s voice was tight now. ‘Maybe he believes this shit. Maybe he doesn’t. Either way, he thinks he’s going to put me through a lot of crap –social workers, shrinks, whatever.’ His voice turned raw. ‘Let him. I didn’t do this stuff.’

  Terri leaned forward. ‘They’ll be an investigation, Carlo. The evaluator will want to interview you. Give you all sorts of tests . . .’

  ‘So let’s get it over with. So I can go back to some sort of normal life.’ He stopped, seeming to imagine the questions he would face, and his voice grew strained again. ‘I have a girlfriend. I’m not some pervert.’

  Terri watched his face. Abruptly, Carlo turned to his father. ‘Is that it, Dad?’

  Chris’s gaze filled with sadness and affection. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s it.’

  Carlo left the room without looking at Terri. Chris watched him climb the stairs, until he disappeared.

  ‘This,’ he murmured to Terri, ‘is one of the worst nights of my life.’

  What would be left of them, Terri wondered, however this might end? ‘How is he?’ she asked.

  ‘Exactly as you saw him – scared, angry, confused.’ Chris’s voice was level. ‘I know Carlo better than I know anyone. If he’d done what he’s accused of doing, Carlo would lie about it. Most people would. But Carlo’s not lying.’

  ‘Are you saying that Richie put her up to this?’

  Chris turned to her. ‘Think about it Terri. I know you’re worried for Elena, and so am I. But the first time you sat down with Keene, Richie asked him to spell out the hot-button custody issues – including child molestation. The hardest thing to prove or disprove.’ Chris’s tone filled with contempt. ‘When Elena came home that weekend and told him about the fun bath “with Carlo,” Richie must have salivated. All he had to do was tack on the disturbed behavior you’d already described to him and take it to Keene.’

  ‘The behavior is real. And Elena won’t talk.’

  Chris shrugged. ‘That’s why you need an evaluation.’

  Terri held his gaze. ‘Even one that involves Carlo?’

  ‘Especially then. He didn’t do this, Terri. How would he feel if he ran away from it?’

  Terri walked to the window. ‘Richie also mentioned your Senate race,’ she said after a time. ‘What would people think, he asked me, if they knew that Carlo was a child molester? He’s desperate, Chris, looking for money –’

  ‘Richie,’ Chris cut in, ‘doesn’t know what desperate is.’

  Turning, Terri gave him a questioning look. She saw Chris’s anger as a change in his eyes, nothing more.

  ‘I’m going to wait,’ he told her softly, ‘until you’ve got Elena. And then I’m going to destroy him.’

  Terri tried to imagine what Chris meant. She went to him, grasping both arms. ‘What about us?’ she asked. ‘All of us. Whoever he is, he’s Elena’s father.’

  Chris’s face turned cold. ‘That’s not a father. That’s a sperm donor. Elena would be better off without him.’

  When Terri returned home, she was exhausted.

  Rosa waited in the living room. With a calm that seemed accusatory, she said, ‘Elena had the nightmare again.’

  The child lay sprawled in her bed. The position in which she had at last found sleep looked like someone running.

  Terri thanked her mother and then showed her out as quickly as she could.

  Closing the door, she leaned against it. Then she walked to the kitchen, picked up vase of flowers, and flung it against the wall.

  It shattered: shards of glass on the floor refracted dull light from the ceiling. Terri stared at the jagged pieces then walked away.

  In the morning, Terri cleaned up the glass. She was paying bills when Richie called.

  ‘We have a deal, Ter?’

  Terri had not slept; she was far too tired to,
temporize. ‘No deal,’ she said. ‘No money, no custody agreement. Nothing except an evaluation.’

  For a long time Richie was silent. ‘I can’t tell you,’ he said quietly, ‘just how sorry you both will be.’

  She waited for more. He said nothing; still Terri listened, connected to him by his silence. When she heard the click at last, she imagined him placing down the receiver with exaggerated softness.

  Die, Terri told him. Please, just die.

  Chapter 13

  Although Terri could not have known this, their fatal turning point began with a call from a reporter.

  It came at a moment of frustration. Terri had just put down her office phone after talking to the evaluator Alec Keene had recommended, a warm-sounding child psychologist named Denise Harris, only to learn that Harris could not start with Elena for at least eight weeks. The phone rang and Terri, distracted, picked it up again.

  ‘Ms Peralta? Jack Slocum. Have a moment?’

  Slocum worked for the morning paper, Terri recalled; his voice had the nervous aggression of the daily reporter. ‘Concerning what?’ she asked.

  ‘The article in this week’s Inquisitor. I wonder if you have any comment.’

  Terri could not fathom why she should care about a supermarket tabloid filled with celebrity gossip and citings of spaceships. ‘I missed that one,’ she said. ‘Did Elvis die?’

  ‘They didn’t call you?’ Slocum’s voice was incredulous. ‘On page seven, your husband claims that Christopher Paget broke up your marriage.’

  It was as if, Terri thought, she were dreaming.

  ‘Ms Peralta?’

  ‘Let me ask you something,’ she said at last. ‘The Inquisitor pays for slime like this, right?’

  ‘Uh-huh. Mr Arias got ten thousand dollars.’

  Terri sat back in her chair. ‘This isn’t news,’ she said. ‘It’s compost.’

  ‘Come on, Ms Peralta. Christopher Paget may well run for the Senate. You don’t think we’re obliged to explore questions of character?’

  ‘Whose character?’ Terri snapped, and hung up.

  She found Chris at his desk. He did not look up Slocum had called him, she realized: the Inquisitor was spread out in front of him.