by David Wiltse
Karen’s sympathy for him at such times was matched by her growing impatience. The best cure, she had discovered, was to just be quiet. Becker did not enjoy the episodes. He did not relish self-pity, and he willed himself out of it as soon as he could. It was his resilience, in fact, that had most impressed Gold, the Bureau psychiatrist with whom Becker had spent so much time.
“He just refuses to be defeated,” Gold had told Karen. “By his memories or his demons or anything else. Believe me, anyone else would have sunk into clinical depression or psychosis long since. They’ve been tipped over by a lot less than Becker’s had to carry. The concept of the will is not in great favor in my business, but that’s the best way I can think of to explain it. He can’t prevent the flashes of-sorrow, rage, pain-he can’t prevent them from happening, but he seems to be able to shut them down almost immediately by the strength of his will. What you have to remember most of all about Becker, Ms. Crist, is that above all else, John Becker wants to do the right thing. There is a certain kind of person he wants to be, and he keeps willing himself to be that person, despite continual setbacks. We should all come as close to our goals, believe me. He’s a remarkable man.”
Remarkable in other ways, too, Karen thought. Ways that Gold knew nothing about. She reminded herself of that during the moments when his most overriding characteristic seemed to be that of a pain in the ass.
“Another thought,” Becker said, already out of his funk. He tried to keep his eyes focused on the dashboard so he wouldn’t have to watch the traffic that Karen continued to pass with undiminished speed.
“Go ahead.”
“Have you done any investigation of the victims’ backgrounds?”
“The usual. Any relatives who might have taken the boys, any family enemies, that kind of thing.”
“You might try to find out if there’s any history of physical abuse prior to the kidnappings.”
Karen looked at him sharply.
“Why?”
“Studies show that women who have been sexually abused as children are more apt to be rape victims than those who have not. Right?”
“So?”
“So maybe Lamont is picking on those who have been preselected.”
“And he can tell in some way?”
“Maybe, I don’t know.”
“What are you doing, blaming the victim?” she demanded angrily.
Becker noticed that she slowed the car.
“Some boys might make themselves more available.”
“So they can be beaten to death? Jesus, Becker.”
“I mean they might be more docile. I know I was an awfully good little boy.”
“You, John?”
“I was so good it makes my teeth ache to think about it.”
“Hard to believe.”
“Trust me,“ Becker said dully. “I did everything I was told-but instantly.”
Karen remembered that Gold had said that most of all Becker wanted desperately to be a good man. Still, it was difficult to reconcile the contradictory facts that this man whose reputation within the Bureau for independence was matched only by his reputation for lack of tact had ever been a child trying to curry favor with anyone.
“Why were you like that then, if you’re not that way now?”
“Because I was under the impression that there were rules I could follow that would make me safe-if I could only figure out what they were. I assumed I was being beaten because I was bad and, believe me, I would have done anything to keep it from happening again… There wasn’t anything I could do, but it took me a long time to realize it
… And you?”
“And me what?”
“Weren’t you… Wouldn’t you do anything to keep it from happening again?”
“God damn you, Becker.”
“Didn’t you do exactly what you were told? You kept quiet, you didn’t tell anyone, you were afraid what would happen to your family, you knew no one would believe you, anyway…”
“God damn you! Leave me out of this. You don’t know anything about me, nothing.”
“Who was it, Karen? Your father, your brother, some ‘uncle’… ”
“Just stop it!”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Becker said softly.
“I won’t be linked with you, John. Stop trying to do it.”
“You already are, it’s nothing I’m doing, it’s your past.”
“You’re just guessing, just flailing around in the dark. You want there to be some connection so you’re making it up.”
“I don’t want that kind of connection. I don’t wish it on anybody.”
“You’re doing it with me and I won’t put up with it.” Becker studied the traffic for a moment, allowing Karen to cool down. He tried to estimate whether they had accelerated or slowed without looking at the speedometer. “What kind of child were you?” he asked after a time.
“I was a fucking tomboy, all right? I was a holy terror. I used to chew up the boys and spit them out again.”
“What did you have against the boys?”
“They were jerks. Still are. Gold is better than this, isn’t he?” Karen asked. “He must be.”
“He’s had more practice,” Becker said.
“Why don’t I just go to Gold when I have a psychological problem, then, all right? He doesn’t have anything better to do than listen to agents whine about their parents, but you do, John. You’ve got a case to work on, and so do I, so let’s keep it to that. Okay?”
“This has to do with the case,” Becker said.
“I don’t have to do with the case. My history has nothing to do with it at all. And neither does the history of these boys. They are not asking to be kidnapped and tortured and killed. They are not wearing signs on their forehead saying ‘I am submissive, I have been abused before, come and get it.’ ”
“You’re sure of this?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’m positive.”
“Why?”
“How long has it been since you’ve been with a child. John? How long since you spent any time at all with one? Especially a boy.”
“Not since I was one. I guess.”
“That’s what I thought,” she said. “You’re just working on theory, not reality.”
“That’s my exit,” Becker said, glancing back as the sign for Clamden receded in the distance.
“I don’t have time to take you home,” Karen said. “I’ll be late. And besides, it’s time you met a real boy.”
Chapter 10
She danced above him, eyes flashing, smiling so hard it looked like her face might rip. Her blonde hair flew out from her head as she moved, as if even it were electrified by her excitement. To Bobby’s bewildered eyes she looked like a creature from a Disney movie, all fierce animation and wild gesticulation. Like someone creating her own wind. Even her voice sounded like something from a movie, sped up beyond normal speed and crackling with agitation. He knew the words but could not fathom their meaning.
“We’re going to have such a good time,” Dee said. She had been saying it repeatedly since she and the man had brought him into the room.
“I know just what a boy like you likes,” she said. “I know all about boys like you. Oh, we’re going to have fun!”
She reached down, touched his cheek suddenly. Bobby flinched involuntarily although he had already been warned not to.
“Don’t pull away from me,” Dee said. She did not sound angry, but there was to her tone a hint of severity, masked and muffled by her good mood, but still detectable in the distance. Bobby held very still as she ran her fingers across his face.
“Think how that makes me feel,” she continued. “You mustn’t think only of yourself, you know. You mustn’t be selfish. You must think of me, too. Think how Dee feels when you jerk away like that.”
She smoothed the hair which habitually fell over his brow.
“Well,” she said, “you’ll learn. Children are always selfish at first. They have to be taught. E
specially boys.”
She whirled away from him again. “Oh, I know all about boys. Don’t I, Ash? Don’t I know all about boys like him?”
Bobby thought the man she had called Ash was about to answer, but she did not wait for him.
“I know all about them.”
This time she grabbed his toe and wiggled it. “All about them.” Something in her tone suggested that she simultaneously chided and forgave him for mischief yet undone.
Dee rubbed his foot through the sheet for a moment, then uncovered his leg as far up as his knee. Bobby was naked under the sheet and he was afraid that she would lift the sheet further, revealing him completely, but he did not allow himself to squirm. As his feet were bound to the bed frame he knew he could not get away from her anyway, but he did not want to be accused of flinching again.
She seemed interested only in his feet.
“Oh, look at these toes,” she said with wonder, as if discovering something amazing on the ends of his feet. “Did you ever see such perfect toes. Ash? Just look at them.”
Ash had been positioned by the door, leaning his back against it as if keeping outside forces from bursting in. Bobby wondered if his parents were out there now, waiting for the right moment to hurl themselves through the wood to rescue him. Maybe they were there with the police. Maybe they were there with guns and, and… he couldn’t think what else they might have, but he was pretty sure that the police arsenal was vast and deadly. He didn’t want this man and woman shot. He didn’t want anyone to hurt them. He just wanted to go home. To be untied and released from the bed, to have the gag taken from his mouth.
Ash came from the door and bent over Bobby’s toes, regarding them as intently as if they were marvelous new growth in the garden, a biological marvel that was sprouting and stretching upwards right before his eyes.
Now was the time for the police to ram the door. Bobby thought. He was afraid to look in that direction for fear the man and woman would see him and realize their mistake, ruining the opportunity. But the door did not move, the police did not come.
All this attention to his toes made them itch with the desire to move, but he didn’t know if he was allowed to wriggle them or not.
Dee took his little toe between her fingers.
“And this little piggie cried ‘whee, whee, whee,’ all the way home,” she said, waggling his toe back and forth gently.
Ash laughed, glancing at Bobby to see if he enjoyed the moment, too. Urging the boy with his eyes to enjoy it.
Suddenly Dee bent forward and took Bobby’s toes in her mouth.
“Ummmm!” She moved her head back and forth as if in ecstasy over this mouth-watering delight. “Ummm-ummm!”
Ash laughed nervously and looked at the boy to judge his reaction.
Bobby whimpered despite himself. The warmth and wetness of the woman’s mouth filled him with confusing feelings. Part of him liked it, part of him felt it was somehow wrong although no one had ever told him so. Maybe the part that was wrong was the part of him, that responded to it.
Dee rolled her eyes up to look at him, her mouth still on his toes, her face at bed level so that she regarded him across the entire length of his body.
There was something in her eyes that Bobby could not name but knew by instinct. A hint of promise. He felt a welter of reactions, but most powerful of all was embarrassment. This stranger should not be treating him in so condescendingly intimate a way. Even if he was kidnapped, even if he was tied and gagged and naked, he was not a baby to have his toes sucked. To be cooed over.
Dee pulled away from his toes with a loud smacking noise. “Better than candy,“ she said. “Sweeter than sugar.” She beamed at him, but Bobby did not respond. Without warning she pressed her thumbnail into the sole of his foot and ran it upwards along the muscle. Bobby’s whole body jerked.
“Oh, he’s ticklish,” Dee said delightedly.
“He’s ticklish,” Ash said. As if they had discovered a wonderful secret about him.
Dee ran her thumb along the sole of his other foot, and again Bobby’s body spasmed on the bed.
“You see,” she said triumphantly. “I told you I knew all about little boys. I know what you like.”
She tickled the tops of his feet now with feathery soft fingers. Bobby writhed and tried to pull away while Dee and Ash laughed in the conspiratorial way of adults who thought they were giving pleasure to a child.
“Oh, we’re going to have fun!” Dee cried.
“Untie him. Ash,” Dee said excitedly. “And take that thing out of his mouth, for heaven’s sake.”
She made it sound as if the restraints were all Ash’s idea.
“He’s not going to do anything silly, are you. Tommy?” She leaned over him, a hand on either side of his body, smiling. Bobby smelled her breath, which was clean and sweet with a faint hint of toothpaste. Then she came too close so that her face blurred, and for a horrible moment he thought she was going to kiss him. Bobby squeezed his eyes closed in anticipation, but instead she rubbed her nose against his.
“Ummmm-ummm.”
He could smell something on her skin, perfume or powder in a dose so small he could hardly detect it. The scent reminded him of his mother who always used too much powder and had a familiar and mildly nauseating odor when she held Bobby too close. Dee smelled better, but she was still too close.
Ash removed the restraints from his feet first, then held him in place with a hand on Bobby’s chest as he released the boy’s body from bondage.
The gag was the last to go and just before ripping the tape from Bobby’s face Ash leaned close and whispered. “Don’t yell.” He paused, waiting for a response from the boy. Bobby nodded his head.
“You promise?” Ash whispered. Bobby nodded again, his eyes wide in anticipation of being free. He had no idea of the passage of time but felt as if he had been tied and tickled and cooed over for hours.
The tape came off so fast that Bobby gasped, but he didn’t yell. Ash smiled and nodded his approval.
“Well, get up,” Dee said. “Let’s have a real look at you! Get up!”
“I’m naked,” Bobby said in horror.
Dee laughed. “Oh, we don’t care. He’s shy. Ash. Isn’t that sweet? He’s shy.”
She pulled the covers off and beckoned him with her hand. “Come on now, stand up.”
Bobby clutched at the sheet, but she pulled it away from him.
“Now don’t be silly,” she said. “It’s just us. You can be naked in front of your family. Besides, how are we supposed to see you if you stay in that bed all day?”
Ash gently tugged at him and Bobby got to his feet, covering his groin with his hands. He felt his face burning with shame.
“Oh, Ash,” Dee said, “look at him, will you just look at him. He’s perfect, he’s absolutely perfect. My perfect little boy.”
She clapped her hands to her face and her eyes misted over.
“Just perfect,” she said softly. “My beautiful Tommy.”
“I’m Bobby,” Bobby said.
Ash touched Bobby’s arm and shook his head violently from side to side. Bobby realized that the man was warning him against something, but he did not understand what.
Dee did not appear to notice. Tears were on her cheeks now even though she was still smiling at him. She touched his cheek with her fingertips with such softness it seemed she could not believe what she was seeing.
“My beautiful, perfect Tommy.”
“I have to go.” Bobby said.
Dee acted as if she didn’t hear him. Bobby turned to Ash. “I have to go to the bathroom.” he said, and as he said it he realized he had to go so badly he didn’t think he could stand it.
“Well, of course!” Dee exclaimed, as if coming back to herself. With a sniff and a wipe of her hand, the tears were gone and her eyes were gleaming again.
“Why didn’t you say so?” She reached for his hand, but Bobby did not offer it. “Come on. I’ll take you.”
“I can go alone,” he said, once more horrified at being treated like a baby.
“Come on,” said Dee. Coaxing him, as if he were three years old. “Come on. I’ll take you.”
“I know where it is.”
Dee steered him toward the bathroom with a hand on his back.
“Sooo modest,” she said.
She held the door open for him, then followed him into the bathroom.
“Go ahead,” she said.
Bobby stood in front of the toilet, his hands still covering himself.
“I can’t,” he said. “You have to leave.”
Dee squatted in front of him so that her face was on a level with his.
“Now you listen to me, young man. You see how we live. We don’t have room enough for this kind of false modesty. It’s not as if you have to perform in front of strangers. It’s only me, you know. Now when I tell you to do a thing, I expect you to do it, and I expect you to do it right then, not an hour later when you decide. Is that clear?”
Bobby looked at her, speechless. He had to go so badly.
“And I won’t have you shutting me out of your life, either,” Dee continued. “You’re not that old yet. Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up. Now go ahead and do your business.”
Bobby could see the man watching him from the other room. The woman wouldn’t leave. He realized for the first time something of what his life was going to be like now… But he had to go so much.
For the first time since he had been grabbed in the car, he began to cry.
Bobby sat on one of the two chairs in the room, watching television. The big man sat on the floor with his back to the door, alternating his attention between Bobby and the flickering screen. The windows were closed. There was no way out of the room except right through Ash, and Bobby could not think how to move him. He had been sitting in front of the door for hours, watching closely, even joining in as the woman had fluttered around Bobby, but not once had he left his position.