by Amy Gutman
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It all washed over her, again, the horror of what he’d done.
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And it wasn’t just the victims but those they’d left behind. Now, 2
with a child of her own, she found the pain past imagining.
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She thought of Dahlia Schuyler’s family, the families of all the 4
others, dozens, hundreds, of broken lives, never to be the same.
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She thought of Dahlia’s younger brother, who blamed himself for 6
her death, believing that if he hadn’t been late to meet her, 7
Dahlia could have been saved. And all the other lives snuffed 8
out, the endless list of names. Fanny Light. Clara Flanders. Dana 9
Koppleman. Dozens of young, beautiful women, with long, straight 10
blonde hair.
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It happened slowly, not all at once, but something inside her 12
was changing. Beneath the turmoil of her racing thoughts, some-13
thing was growing clear. A belief that she could do what it took 14
to protect the life she’d built.
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Slowly, she closed the book and stared at the face on the cover.
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She forced herself to study it, refused to look away. Bulging eyes, 17
distended veins, teeth bared in rage. She wasn’t frightened any-18
more, just filled with a sense of purpose. Gazing at the book, she 19
whispered, “This time, you’re not going to win.”
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Monday, April 10
T
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h e Prada suit fit perfectly.
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As one of Mr. Lin’s best clients, Melanie had convinced him to 3
complete the alterations on Saturday. Now, heading down the 4
hall toward her office, she sensed the admiring glances. The long 5
black skirt hugged her hips, flaring out slightly at the bottom.
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The black jacket clung to her body, nipping in at the waist. She 7
felt both armored and seductive, a heady combination. A woman 8
who could afford this suit wasn’t someone you’d want to mess 9
with. She smiled to herself as she walked down the hall.
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Look, just don’t touch.
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“Wow. You look great!”
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“Thanks, Tina.” Melanie smiled at her secretary, turning as she 13
reached her office door. “Listen, I’ve got to take care of some-14
thing. Will you hold my calls for a while?”
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Closing the door behind her, the smile faded from Melanie’s 16
face. There was a reason she’d worn this suit today. She wanted 17
to feel in control. Outside, twenty-two floors below, traffic streamed 18
down Park Avenue. She watched the scene for a bit, then turned 19
to the phone. It was just after eight-thirty, but Frank got to work 20
early. One of the things they’d had in common. One of the few in 21
the end.
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“Frank Collier, please. This is Melanie White.”
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“Yes, Ms. White. I’ll get him.” The secretary’s voice was unfa-24
miliar, but she obviously knew who Melanie was. Waiting for 25
Frank to come on the line, Melanie wondered what she’d been 26 S
told. Can you believe that she left him ? She sounds like a total bitch.
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“Hi there, Melanie. Thanks for gettin’ back to me.” The famil-5 0
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iar drawl gave her a queasy feeling. Even hundreds of miles away, 1
Frank Collier filled up a room. She pictured him in his spacious 2
office, with its views of the U.S. Capitol. An imposing six feet 3
four inches, with steel-gray hair, eyes a guileless blue. He’d be 4
leaning back in his leather chair, an easy smile on his face, as if 5
he had absolutely no doubt that he’d end up getting his way.
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“Sorry it took me a while. I had a summary judgment hearing.”
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She sounded polite but distant, just as she’d hoped to sound. She 8
had no intention of letting on how much she’d dreaded this call.
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“So how’d it go?”
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“Good. We won, actually. The judge ruled from the bench.”
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The pride in her voice annoyed her. As if she were a cat, drop-12
ping a bird at his feet. Seeking a laying-on of hands from Frank 13
Collier, megalawyer. Maybe it wouldn’t have bugged her so much 14
if it hadn’t been true for so long.
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“I’m not surprised, Melanie. You’re a wonderful lawyer.” She 16
heard condescension in his words, but maybe she imagined it.
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Anyway, it hardly mattered. Time to cut to the chase.
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“Listen, Frank. You’ve got to stop contacting me. I mean the 19
calls, that note. Enough.”
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“The calls?” He seemed bemused. “Melanie, I only called you 21
once. When I left a message last week. As for a note, I have no 22
idea what you’re talking about.”
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“But I . . .” Melanie stopped, confused. This was one response 24
she hadn’t anticipated. Who else could the note be from? And 25
yet, why would he want to lie? If he’d sent the note, she couldn’t 26
think why he wouldn’t admit it.
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And then he was speaking again. “Melanie, please, believe me.
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We’re in total accord on that point. I actually called you for a rea-29
son.”
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A long, pregnant pause, the trademark Collier staging. “I 31
thought that I should tell you. I’m getting married again.”
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At first she almost laughed, thinking it was a joke, but the si-33
lence that followed his words told her she was wrong.
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For an instant, the world around her froze. Time seemed to S 35
stand still. Then everything started moving double-time, and she R 36
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was too angry to speak. You bastard. You fucking bastard. She was 2
tempted to announce her own engagement, to throw that back at 3
him. But even as she felt the urge, she knew that she’d waited too 4
long. Coming on the heels of Frank’s proclamation, hers would 5
smack of defeat. A pathetic attempt to convince him that she 6
was still desirable. If only she’d told him before, but that was 7
wishful thinking. The best that she could do right now was pre-8
tend she didn’t care.
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“Congratulations,” she said coolly. “I hope you’ll be very happy.”
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Diane Massey was in a foul mood.
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She typed another few words on her laptop, then stared off 14
into space. It had all started this morning, when she went down 15
to pick up the mail. Jenny had mentioned that a man had come 16
by asking if she was around. He hadn’t wanted to give his name, 17
claimed to be another writer. He too, he’d said, was seeking seclu-18
sion but good to know she was here. No need to mention him, 19
he’d said. He wouldn’t want to intrude.
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Diane hadn’t bought it.
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Right away, she’d thought of Warner.
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They’d broken up more than three months ago, but he hadn’t 23
given up. Back in New York he still called her several times a 24
week, begging for another chance, insisting they needed to talk.
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These messages, which she never returned, always left her feeling 26
tense. The contrast between who he was and the man she’d 27
thought she’d seen. Jenny’s description had calmed her some-28
what — Warner didn’t have a beard — still, just the thought he 29
might have tracked her down had made her distinctly uneasy.
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She worked fretfully another few hours, but her concentration 31
was gone. She was relieved when five o’clock came. Time for her 32
afternoon run. She grabbed her Walkman on her way out the 33
door, along with a Garbage cassette. Usually, the silence soothed 34
her, but today she wanted noise. Something raucous and angry to 35 S
block out the anxious thoughts.
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Another monochromatic day. A study in shades of gray. Slate-5 2
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gray water. Bleached gray sky. Tall charcoal trees. Almost impos-1
sible to believe that spring would come, let alone the brightness 2
of summer. She watched a car approach but barely heard its roar, 3
the blaring music on her headphones erasing all other sound.
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As she turned down the dirt road that led to Carson’s Cove, 5
the woods closed in on her. Spindly fir trees, impossibly tall, layer 6
upon layer of them. On most days, running raised her spirits, but 7
today it didn’t happen. The thing that bugged her most was the 8
imminent sense of intrusion. It was probably a little irrational.
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She didn’t own the island. But she couldn’t escape the prickly 10
feeling of being imposed upon. It was exactly the sort of thing 11
she’d argued about with Warner. He’d never been able to under-12
stand her need to be alone. But she wouldn’t think about that.
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There didn’t seem to be an answer. In the end, the choice was al-14
ways the same: work or love. Not both.
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For a time, she’d thought that Warner was different. The ex-16
ception that proved the rule. He worked so much himself, she’d 17
thought they might reach an understanding. But finally even 18
he’d grown angry, wanting more from her. In the end, like all the 19
others, he’d wanted to be taken care of.
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There was always that stark moment when she saw that it 21
wouldn’t work. It always came in a sudden flash that caught her 22
by surprise. She imagined it would be a gradual thing emerging 23
over time, a slow accretion of evidence, like building a case at 24
trial. But as far as she could remember, it never happened like 25
that. Instead, there was that single moment when everything 26
crystallized.
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In every relationship, she could pinpoint precisely when it 28
happened. With Don Bishop, the cardiologist, it had come after 29
dinner one night. He’d looked around, bemused, at her library, 30
and said, “Think you’ve got enough books?” With Phil Brooks, 31
the turning point had been when he’d left the message, “It’s 32
me.” It wasn’t the words so much as the tone, the fatuous self-33
absorption. Right then she’d stopped returning his calls, and 34
finally, he’d given up.
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With Warner the moment had come the first time he’d raised R 36
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his voice. Her mind slipped back to that final night, the last time 2
they’d seen each other. They’d had dinner at Raoul’s, around the 3
corner from her loft. Even then she’d sensed something dark, a 4
current beneath the surface. Between bites of steak au poivre 5
she’d thought about saying something. Then, back at her apart-6
ment, they’d had that terrible fight.
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Now she was on the narrow path leading to the water. But just 8
as she caught the first glimpse of sea, a blow struck her from be-9
hind. Breath flew out of her lungs. Her only thought was, Whaaa?
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As she watched her body fly through the air, her reaction was 11
pure surprise. It might be good or bad. She really wasn’t sure. She 12
tried to break the fall with her hands, but she wasn’t fast enough.
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Her face smashed into the earth, and her mind seemed to im-14
plode. There was a moment before the pain hit, when everything 15
went still. Then, as if someone had hit a switch, sensation flooded 16
her body. Tendrils of pain rushed through her. Everything seemed 17
to blur. Her mind, her body, the sky, the earth — none of it made 18
sense.
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Somewhere dimly above her, she heard the sound of breathing.
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Her nails dug into the hard dirt path as she struggled to climb 21
to her knees. But just as she raised herself onto an elbow, a foot 22
pressed into her back. A foot and behind it a body’s weight. She 23
heard the cracking of bone. She flung out an arm in mute appeal, 24
grasped at empty space. She tried to scream, but she had no breath, 25
and her cry was a soft yelp. Then, the weight bore down on her, 26
knees clamped around her sides. She saw a pair of heavy muscled 27
thighs encased in black denim. She felt something around her 28
neck, twisting slowly tighter. Fear spilled into the pain, and she 29
couldn’t think anymore. She wanted to live, to live. Her lungs 30
fought for air.
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Hands rolled her roughly onto her back. She was choking and 32
crying at once. Her eyes traveled up past the black shirtsleeves 33
until she saw his face. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her 34
without blinking. Even with the beard, she recognized him. She 35 S
never forgot a face.
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You, she thought. Why you?
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She really wanted to know.
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Then the thing around her neck grew tighter, and she couldn’t 3
breathe again. Above her the wind rustled through the trees, 4
and she was floating toward them. An explosion of colors behind 5
her eyes, and she thought of Dahlia Schuyler. The last thing she 6
thought before the sky went black was, So this is how she felt.
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He stared at her sprawled on the ground, his heart still heaving 10
from the struggle. He was filled with a sense of exhilaration that 11
he’d never known before.
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Of all that is written I love only that which is written in blood . . .
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The words of the great German philosopher bloomed red in his 14
mind.
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After another second or two, he reluctantly glanced at his 16
watch. The large hand pointed to the number two, the smaller 17
down by six. It took another moment for him to realize that it 18
was just 6:10. Could it really have happened so quickly? It 19
seemed impossible. With a start he wondered if his watch had 20
stopped. What time was it really?
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It was then that he noticed the gold watchband circling her 22
pale wrist. With a gloved hand he turned over her arm to see the 23
face of the watch. He caught the name Cartier on the watch’s 24
face. Even he knew that name. It must have cost thousands —
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five or ten grand — to the $29.95 he’d paid for his. But the time 26
on both of their watches was the same. He found this satisfying.
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Timex. Cartier. It didn’t matter. Time was one of the few things 28
in life that was absolutely fair.
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Life isn’t fair. He’d grown up hearing that. As if it were some-30
thing you had to accept. As if you were powerless. Well, by God, 31
he wasn’t accepting it. He was a man of action. Maybe you 32
couldn’t change the past, but at least you could avenge it. Over 33
the years, he’d come to conclude that people were essentially 34
weak. They’d prefer to whine about what had happened instead S 35
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of doing what had to be done. They didn’t seek out opportunities, 2
they sought out excuses. How many of them would have had the 3
guts to do what he’d just done?
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Can you be judge of yourself and avenger of your law?