The intruder lay on top of her, still wearing the mask and breathing heavily. When Sue Ellen again begged to be released, the man began to moan softly, “A-a-a-a-g-a-a-a-i-n! A-a-a-a-g-a-a-a-i-n!” He laughed malevolently and began pumping in and out of her again.
When she cried “NO,” he squeezed her throat harder. Sue Ellen’s nightmare continued as the intruder assaulted her again. When he was done with her, she had been brutally raped four times.
Billy woke up in darkness. As he lifted his head, he immediately felt a pounding in his temples. He put his hand to his crown and felt a wetness. He brushed his hands all over the dark space until he found the knob of the closet door and opened it. The brightness of the room momentarily blinded him. Stumbling and still weak from the blow to the back of his head, he collapsed on the hallway floor and lay there for several minutes. When he was able to make the effort, he pushed himself up with both hands and sat back on his heels. He took a deep breath and exhaled, again touching the wound on his head. He looked at his hand and saw that it was smeared with blood.
Dazed and confused, Billy walked out of the house. He made it over to the rectory and groped his way upstairs to his room. Once there he collapsed onto his bed, closed his eyes, and didn’t wake up again until he heard a banging at the front door.
The Ford Fordor Deluxe climbed back up the hill at around 5:00. Jessie ran out of the house to greet Father Poole and Walt Hartley. “How was she when you left?” Jessie asked anxiously. “Where is she now?”
Father Fin put his hands on her shoulders. “She’s not well, Jess. We took her over to the hospital in Exeter.”
“Why? What is it?”
“They think it’s cancer.”
“No!” she cried, and sank her head on Father Poole’s chest.
“She wanted to go home,” the priest told her.
“Home?” Jessie said. “But this is her home.”
“I think she misses where she grew up.”
“But didn’t she grow up in an orphanage?”
“Yes, but she was very close with someone who used to work there. I think she wanted to go back there for the memories, even though that woman died a long time ago.”
“We’re her family, Father Fin, and this is her home. If they can’t make her well in the hospital, then she’s gotta come back here, and we’ll all just have to pitch in to help take care of her.”
Father Poole leaned forward and kissed Jessie on the forehead, his eyes shut tight.
Fifteen minutes later, while Father Poole was in his office drafting a letter to the Archbishop regarding Sister Ignatius’s condition, he heard someone pounding on the rectory’s front door. Jessie beat him to the door. It was Walt Hartley. His face was fiery red, and he was carrying a loaded pistol in his hand.
“WHERE IS HE?” Walt shouted to Jessie as Father Poole stopped behind her. “WHERE IS HE? BY GOD I’LL KILL THE SON OF A BITCH! I’LL KILL HIM FOR WHAT HE DID!”
“Where’s who, Walt?” Father Poole asked.
“BILLY NORWIN, THAT’S WHO!” Walt Hartley shouted as he pushed his way past the two of them. “I’ve seen the way he looks at her,” he said, no longer shouting but still feverishly hunting around the hallway.
“What in the world is this all about?” asked Father Poole.
“Your altar boy has… .” Breaking down in his grief, Mr. Hartley raised his hands to cover his eyes and in the process dropped the pistol, which hit the floor with a resounding thud. He sobbed into his hands.
“Walt,” began Father Poole, patting him on the shoulder. “If you’re quite calm enough now to do it, and you promise you won’t fly off the handle again, can you tell me what’s going on?”
“As soon as I walked through the front door,” said a more composed Mr. Hartley, “I found blood on the carpet. The door to the hall closet was wide open, and there was blood in there too. I called for Sue Ellen, but she didn’t come down. Naturally I was alarmed. I ran upstairs to her room, but she wasn’t there. Then I heard water running in the bathroom. Sue Ellen was in there. I tried to open the door, but she’d locked it. She told me that she didn’t want me to see her. I got the key that we keep above the molding and opened the door myself. I needed to get to the bottom of all this, you understand.”
He paused and took a deep breath. Father Poole urged him to take his time. After some seconds of silence Walt Hartley noticed Jessie, whose innocent yet troubled expression gave him the strength to continue. He wanted Jessie to know what he himself suspected.
“There she was,” Walt continued, “soaking in crimson water, her face bruised so badly that I couldn’t rightly tell whether it was my daughter at first. Two of her front teeth were busted clear out of her mouth! Her nose was so swollen that it resembled a beehive!”
He wept and was unable to continue for a few moments. “Dear God Almighty!” he continued. “That bath water was so red. At first I thought she’d been bathing in tomato soup. She was beat up pretty good, but still that blood couldn’t have all come from her face. It was coming from somewhere else. She wouldn’t tell me, but I know.”
Jessie wasn’t following what Walt Hartley meant. She was still in a state of shock about the assault. “Billy could never have done this, Mr. Hartley,” she said.
“I see how he looks at her,” replied Sue Ellen’s father, “He was lusting after her. I know my daughter. She aims to keep her dignity. He probably got tired of her rejections, and his hormones took over. I was a boy once. I remember what it was like.”
“What would be Billy’s motives for beating Sue Ellen, Walt?” asked Father Poole.
“Use your head, man! She refused his advances. That’s when he pounced on her. In a fury he beat her, but she had some of his blood and skin under her nails. She gave him something he’ll not soon forget!”
“This doesn’t sound like Billy,” replied Father Poole. “I mean, can Sue Ellen swear that Billy was the one responsible?”
Walt looked disgusted. “Why would my daughter lie?” he said defensively.
“Was she…,” Father Poole started to ask and then, giving his back to Jessie, leaned toward Walt and whispered, “How far did this go?”
“ALL THE WAY!” shouted Hartley, startling Father Poole who had assumed not only that his neighbor had calmed down but that he would reply in a whisper for the sake of Jessie’s virgin ears.
“Where did this happen?” asked Father Poole.
“She didn’t tell me. She only kept saying ‘Billy, Billy, Billy’ over and over.”
“There’s only one way to straighten this matter out,” declared Father Poole. “We need to ask Billy his side of the story.”
“I can certainly see whose side you’re on, Father! What do you know about this boy anyway? I heard he used to beat the shit out of his own father! In my opinion this is an open and shut case. I’m going down the hill to report this crime.”
When Hartley started for the door, Father Poole leaped after him. “NO!” shouted the priest. “There’s got to be another explanation, Walt. All we need to do is to find Billy. He’s probably out back or upstairs in his room.”
“Then call him!” Walt Hartley yelled.
They decided to check upstairs first. The three went quickly up to the second floor and found the door to Billy’s room wide open. He was sitting on his bed, recently having been awakened by the commotion downstairs. He had heard everything. They all immediately saw the traces of blood in Billy’s blond hair. Walt Hartley’s mouth dropped. Father Poole couldn’t believe it either.
“What happened?” Father Poole asked grimly.
“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Walt shouted, seeing the blood as proof that the boy had attacked Sue Ellen. He lunged for the boy but was intercepted by both Father Poole and Jessie. “LET ME GET MY HANDS ON HIM! I’LL KILL HIM!”
Billy jumped
up and at once lost his equilibrium. He swayed a little, his head still woozy from the trauma. “Mr. Hartley, I can explain,” Billy said.
Walt Hartley only screamed in response, realizing by now that Father Poole had no intention of letting him at the boy. He backed away, marched out the door, and exited from the rectory, screaming “YOU’RE GOING TO BE SORRY, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”
Jessie began to cry. “It’s not true, is it, Billy?” she said. “Please tell me it’s not true.”
Billy put his hands on Jessie’s shoulders. “Listen to me,” he replied. “I don’t know what happened. I was in Swell’s house getting a blanket.”
He went on to explain as much as he could, knowing it wouldn’t offer much in the way of an alibi. They then heard the sound of the Ford’s motor starting. Father Poole walked to the bedroom across the hall and leaned out its window.
“He’s taking the car down into town,” Father Poole said, panic-stricken. “He’s going to the police. All we need right now is for Captain Ransom to find out what’s going on up here with you kids. Then again, I’m not sure how much Walt’s going to say. He’s really going down there about Billy. Anyway he thinks you boys are… . Never mind.”
Father Fin then got an idea. “Quick, Jessie! Tell the boys to get up in the maple and stay there quietly. Billy, you come with me.”
Jessie ran out back where Charlie, Gabe, and Lou were playing while Ziggy and General Lee watched. The rest of us were up in the maple. Jessie screamed for them to climb up the tree immediately. She picked up Ziggy with one arm and called for General Lee. Just to make sure that she was thorough, Jessie remembered to turn the sign over that read “THE BENSON HOME FOR ABUSED AND ABANDONED BOYS.” It now indicated “ST. ANDREW’S RECTORY, BACK ENTRANCE.” With Ziggy in her arms, she and General Lee ran across the grass to the Benson house and hid.
Father Poole meanwhile was busy taking care of Billy in the priest’s office. Father Poole swung open the top drawer of his desk where he kept his cash. He pulled out ten twenty-dollar bills along with several singles buried inside the roll. Billy felt bad that he’d taken as much as he already had from Father Poole, who handed the wad of cash to him.
“Take this,” said the priest, “and get away from here. When you can, send me word of where you are, but not by phone or mail. Mrs. Garrison at the post office likes to steam open people’s mail. And since we share a party line with two other households, and with the operators listening in from time to time, I don’t want you calling. Let me know your whereabouts by etching it into the south side of the maple’s trunk. Come back to Holly in a few weeks when things have died down, but come late at night. Sneak up the hill, and be sure you have a knife with you to inscribe the message.”
“Can’t I just come into the rectory?” asked Billy.
“I don’t want anyone to see you. I’m not sure whether Ransom will find out about you kids, but if he does the last thing any of us needs is to get caught contradicting one another. Ziggy and the other young ones might slip and say they’d seen you. If there’s going to be a warrant out for your arrest, I could get into serious trouble if they decide to press charges against you and if it’s discovered that I know where you are and where you’ve been. I don’t feel comfortable with your even slipping a message under the rectory door. One of the boys might find it first. And it won’t do us any good hiding it somewhere outside. The wind might take it away, and with our present luck it’ll land right in Ransom’s lap. It’s for the best if only I know where you are. I don’t know whether Ransom will come back up here. If the boys don’t know anything, there’s no risk in their spilling anything to him. Etch your whereabouts into the tree. When Walt comes back, I can just say he scared you so badly that you ran away.”
Billy understood now why Father Poole was doing things this way. Phineas kissed Billy’s forehead, much as he’d done with Jessie, and made the sign of the cross. “Go with God,” said the priest.
Billy hugged Father Fin tightly and then ran out of the office. Within two minutes he was gone, not even getting to say goodbye to Jessie.
Father Poole was once again startled by a sudden clamor at the rectory’s front door. The visitors were an emotional Walt Hartley accompanied by Captain Ransom and two other officers.
“Father Poole,” Captain Ransom called. “Are you in there, Father Poole?”
Phineas opened the door. “Gentlemen,” said Phineas. “Please come in.”
“Thank you, Father,” replied Captain Ransom, and the four men entered.
Ransom got right to the point. “Mr. Hartley here claims that one of your altar boys brutally assaulted his daughter. We need to speak to the boy and perhaps have him come with us.”
“He’s not here,” answered the priest.
“What do you mean he’s not here?” Walt Hartley interjected.
Ransom turned to the irate father of Sue Ellen. “Take a walk, Mr. Hartley, and get some air. I need to speak to Father Poole for a moment.”
“You scared the daylights out of him,” Father Poole called to his neighbor as Walt walked down the stairs. “The boy was afraid for his safety, so he ran off. Can you blame him? He’s only a kid.”
Walt Hartley didn’t reply. Father Poole watched Walt shrink into the distance as he walked toward his house, where he began to pace up and down on his property. In fact, Father Poole kept watching Walt, even when Ransom offered the priest a cigarette and then began to question him.
“What exactly is your relationship to Billy Norwin, Father Poole?”
“He’s one of my altar boys. He comes up here most Saturdays to practice and then either sleeps over in one of the guest rooms or comes back the following morning to assist in Sunday Mass.” Father Poole reflected on how easy it had now become for him to lie. It scared him that he was getting so good at deception.
“Is that all?”
“Yes, why? Did Hartley tell you differently?”
“No. Why should he have?”
“Not at all, Captain. As you know, Jonas left us, and since then there hasn’t been another charity case like him. The two or three children who come here are altar boys, nothing more.”
“I see.” Ransom walked around the hallway of the rectory and listened but didn’t hear a peep. “Where’s that nun of yours, Father?” asked Ransom. “Sister… ?”
“Ignatius. She’s visiting relatives in Exeter.”
Phineas didn’t know why he didn’t tell Ransom the truth about Sister Ignatius. He supposed it was because he found it easier to say that she was visiting family rather than that she was sick in a hospital and possibly had cancer.
“Do you think the boy will come back?” Ransom asked.
“Captain,” Father Poole began. “I don’t think he did it. Billy Norwin is not a violent boy.”
“Norwin, Norwin. Isn’t he a resident of Holly? I know I’ve heard that name before. Oh, wait. Is that Stevie Norwin’s boy?”
“I believe so.”
“So he’s a local lad. Perhaps he’s run home. We can try finding him there.”
“No, I don’t think so. His father’s in a bad way.”
Captain Ransom observed Father Poole closely. The priest looked worried, perhaps for the boy or perhaps for himself. The Captain struck a match and lit the cigarette he’d been holding idly in his hand since they’d arrived. Father Poole immediately protested, telling the policeman that smoking was not permitted inside the rectory. Ransom apologized, dropping the cigarette on the floor and stepping on it, which insulted Father Poole more than had Ransom just smoked the damned thing.
“I think there’s something you’re not telling me, Father,” said Ransom.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Does his old man know that Billy comes up here? Is the kid even a Catholic? I ask all this because it seems as though you don’t
want me to talk to Stevie Norwin. You wouldn’t by any chance be keeping Billy up here illegally, would you?”
“No, and I can tell you right here and now that Mr. Norwin doesn’t care that his son is up here assisting in Sunday Mass.”
“I never would have taken Norwin for a Catholic. No offense, Father. It’s just that in my experience people named Smith or Jones or Williams or Norwin tend not to be Catholic. I mean, I wouldn’t bat an eye if, say, his last name was Fitzgerald or Jankowski. Norwin is an odd last name for a Catholic to have.”
“Are we done here, Captain? I’m worried about Billy, and I would like a chance to look for him.”
“Very well,” replied Ransom, making his way to the door. “I want to speak to the Hartley girl anyway. But if you find Billy Norwin, Father, I trust you’ll know to do the right thing and bring him to me for questioning. Can I count on you to do that?”
“You needn’t treat me like a child who is not to be trusted, Captain Ransom. I’m a man of truth.”
As he said this, Father Poole inwardly snickered at Ransom, thinking that truth was an idea that Ransom knew as much about as a twelfth-century astronomer did about the moons of Uranus and Neptune.
“Sue Ellen Hartley’s just been through a traumatic experience,” said Father Poole, finding it hard to keep silent about Ransom’s stereotyping of Catholics and putting a cigarette out on his floor. “Surely you can wait until she’s feeling better.”
Ransom put his hat back on as he and the other two officers walked out of the rectory. He faced Father Poole again and said, very matter-of-factly, “If Norwin is innocent, then what she has to say might clear him!”
We all stayed quiet in the maple while the police went over to the Hartley house. This drill was nothing new to us. Whenever somebody from the archdiocese came up from Manchester, Father Poole knew ahead of time what the date and general time would be. Then we’d all hide in the tree, with the exception of Ziggy and General Lee who would lie low with Jessie in the Benson house. Even Mrs. Keats would have to escape notice in her pantry closet.
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