“That’s the North Star,” Joel said. It was what his father had told him.
“It’s not north,” Hunt pointed out. “And look at this map. See? Right here, it shows Venus.”
Joel looked. “You’re right,” he admitted. He was shocked by the fact that his friend knew something his father didn’t.
“Venus is usually the first star out,” Hunt said matter-of-factly. “Although it’s not really a star, it’s a planet.”
The location of Venus was still the extent of Joel’s astronomical knowledge, and he still recalled perfectly the night he had learned it. Now he found himself wondering if Hunt had a window in his jail cell, if he could see the night sky.
Joel closed his eyes against a tension headache that had been pressuring his brain all day. There was no way in hell that Hunt was a child molester. He knew that as certainly as he knew his own phone number. Hell, since meeting Beth, even Hunt’s ordinary casual interest in looking at other beautiful women seemed to have disappeared.
And he would testify in court that in all the times he’d been over to the house, Hunt had never once been alone together with either Kate or Lilly. Not even for a second.
Behind him, there was a click and a swish as the sliding glass door opened. He turned. “She’s out of her room,” Stacy said. “I think we should talk to her.”
Joel nodded and followed his wife inside. Lilly had plopped down on the couch and was using the remote control to turn on the television. Stacy sat down next to her and gently took the remote from her hand. “We have to talk,” she said.
Lilly shook her head. “I don’t want to.”
“I know you don’t, sweetie, but this is important. We need to find out what really happened.”
“I don’t know!”
Joel sat down and faced his daughter. “You’re her best friend. Did she say anything about this to you at all?”
Lilly looked uncomfortable.
“Honey?” Stacy prodded.
Lilly nodded unhappily. “Yeah.”
“Yeah what?” Joel asked carefully. “She told you about it?”
“She said it was Mr. Jackson, but I knew it couldn’t be because one time she called and told me right after it happened and Mr. Jackson was here with you.” The words came out in a rush. Then she was silent, her face beet red with embarrassment.
Stacy touched her shoulder supportively. “Did she ever tell you anything else? Did you ever see anything when you two were at her house or at the park?”
“I saw a man once,” she admitted. “At the park. We were riding bikes, and she saw him, too, and she stopped and turned around like real quick. I thought she might know him, it kind of seemed like she’d seen him before, but when I asked her she wouldn’t talk about it.”
Joel’s pulse raced. “What did he look like?”
“I didn’t see his face. He was standing by a tree and it was like, all dark, and all I could tell was that he was big and wearing, like, an old-time hat.”
“Big?” Joel asked, worried by the word.
“Yeah. Like a football player or something. Well, maybe not that big, but kind of like that, you know? Not skinny. And he was kind of hunched over.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about this when it happened?” Stacy prodded.
Lilly shrugged uncomfortably.
“You thought we wouldn’t let you go to the park anymore?”
She nodded.
Joel stood. “We have to tell the police.”
Stacy put a hand on his arm, pulled him down. “This doesn’t prove anything. It might help Hunt’s case, but it doesn’t prove that he didn’t do anything.”
Lilly looked at her mother. “Did Uncle Hunt really do… that?”
“No, honey. We don’t think he did.”
“I don’t either,” Lilly said adamantly.
“But,” she added softly, “Kate does.”
3
The house seemed empty with Hunt—
in jail
—gone. Stacy had called to commiserate, and that had cheered her up a bit. Briefly. But she hadn’t called any of her other friends because she hadn’t known what to say. Hello, I’m feeling depressed because my husband was arrested for child molestation? She had never felt so alone in her life, and a call to her mother in Las Vegas, in desperate search for a shoulder to cry on, led only to the sharp-tongued “How well do you really know him anyway?”
“Well enough to know he didn’t do it,” she responded before hanging up, and it was true. Her one consolation throughout this hellish day was that she was absolutely positive of Hunt’s innocence. There was not a doubt in her mind.
She was equally sure that the insurance agent had something to do with the trumped-up charges. Hunt thought so, too. As wacky as it might sound to an outsider, they both had no doubt that they were being taught a lesson, that they were being punished for refusing to partake of insurance they hadn’t wanted and hadn’t believed in.
That was their real crime. They hadn’t believed. That’s why they were being subjected to this ordeal, that’s why they were being persecuted.
Why hadn’t she listened to Hunt in the first place? Why had she let the agent into their house? Why had she insisted on buying a policy from him?
Beth snuggled next to Courtney on the couch. The cat purred, pressed its moist nose against her hand.
Whether out of embarrassment or some twisted desire not to burden his family with his problems, Hunt had forbidden her to call his parents. And though she desperately wanted to tell them, knew that they would have immediately flown out to be there for their son and would probably be able to bring some much needed experience to this battle, she abided by his wishes and refrained from informing them, even though she knew it was wrong.
So she was all alone in the house.
Just her and Courtney.
And the guest room.
The guest room had taken on an almost mythical status in her mind the past two nights. She didn’t exactly blame it for what had happened, but it was an emblem of all that could happen, a symbol of that preternatural, paranormal realm that encompassed the insurance agent and all that he’d brought with him.
Because it was haunted.
She never lost sight of that fact. Day or night she was always aware of it, and for the past two nights, alone in the house with Hunt gone, that aspect of the room had been at the forefront of her mind. She’d been spending most of her limited time at home camped out in the kitchen, as far away from the guest room as possible, and when she went to bed at night she left the light on in the master bathroom, the television on in the bedroom, and closed and locked the door until morning. She was only in the living room now because Courtney was here, and she was so nervous that she kept sneaking glances at the hallway, wishing that she’d turned a light on in there before the sun had gone down.
The phone rang, and she jumped. Jumped a mile, her father would have said. She picked up the phone and was about to say “Hello,” but she heard a sound on the other end of the line, and it wasn’t a voice. It wasn’t even human. It was a low sort of whistle, like a nearly empty teakettle. She stood and dropped the telephone, backing away from it.
The room was calling her.
But there was no phone in the guest room.
From the fallen phone and from down the hall—in stereo—she heard the whistling sound spiral upward in tone. In her mind, she saw that figure from the mirror, that hulking stoop-shouldered man with the broad-brimmed hat. She had no doubt that if she braved the hallway and peeked into the guest room she would see that figure reflected in the glass, standing in the doorway, the same way it always was.
It lived in her house.
Whom could she call? What could she do?
There was a sudden rapping at the front door, and this time she not only jumped, she screamed.
“It’s only me!” a voice announced from the other side of the door. “Your insurance agent! May I come in and speak with you?”
How big is your wife’s pussy?
She thought of what Hunt had told her, and the fear did not abate but intensified. “No! Go away!”
“I thought this might be a good time to talk about some of your insurance needs.”
A good time?
She ignored him, did not respond, hoping he would get the hint and leave. There were goose bumps on her arms. The insurance agent seemed as scary to her right now as the noises and specter in the guest room. If he had arranged for Hunt’s framing and arrest, what else could he arrange? What more could he have planned?
“I thought you might want to purchase the employment insurance we talked about.”
She remembered what he’d said when he’d try to sell them the insurance, that if they bought it they would not be outsourced or fired or end up resenting their jobs because of “extraneous factors at work.” He’d smiled at her when he’d said that last part, and she remembered that smile now and it prickled the peach fuzz on the back of her neck.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
She refused to answer.
“You’re busy,” he called out. “I understand. I’ll return later when your husband’s here. He’ll be back soon, and then we can go over all of your options.”
He’ll be back soon? Did the agent know something she didn’t? Unreasonably, irrationally, hope bloomed within her.
“I’ll be back next week!”
She peeked through the peephole, saw him back off the steps and tip his hat to her, as though he knew that she was watching him. He turned and strode jauntily up the walk, between the twin ocotillos that acted as an entryway to the yard, and then turned right on the sidewalk, heading around the corner of the block.
She didn’t notice until he was gone from sight that the guest room was still whistling.
Beth awoke early, having set the alarm. The guest room had quieted down after an hour of that low strange whistling sound. She’d hung up the phone and it hadn’t rung again, but the noise issued from the room itself until after ten, and only when it had finally stopped and not returned for forty-five minutes did she gather up her courage and go to bed. She did not dare check the guest room, but she was glad to see that the door to the room was closed, and she closed her own bedroom door, locked it and slept all night with the light on.
Beth walked into the kitchen, put on a pot of coffee, fed Courtney his morning Friskies, and popped a bagel in the toaster oven. She’d taken yesterday off to see Hunt and to get him a lawyer, and she wanted to take off today, too. But she had a limited number of vacation and sick days, and she had the feeling that she was going to need them later—when the trial started. There was nothing she could do today anyway, no way that she could help him, and since her visiting time was limited to a single half hour at five-thirty, it would be better for her to go back to work. If it turned out to be a busy day, so much the better. Work might take her mind off everything else. And it would certainly make the day go by faster than if she were alone, pacing around the house, endlessly going over everything in her mind, driving herself crazy.
She wondered if there was anything about this in the newspaper. The media loved to jump on molestation cases. She knew that Hunt was innocent, that all of the accusations were baseless, but she also knew how bad it would look for him in print, and she hoped to God that nothing got out that would taint the jury pool.
Beth let out a short sharp laugh, a spontaneous expression of frustration that shocked even herself. Gallows humor. She tried to imagine explaining to her friends and coworkers that the charges resulted from a manipulation of the truth by an evil insurance agent. How credible did that sound? An insurance salesman with supernatural powers had sold them a health and dental package, then offered them legal insurance, and when they declined had punished them by miraculously making Lilly’s friend believe that Hunt had forced her to have oral sex with him? Just going over it in her mind, even knowing it to be true, it still sounded ridiculous.
She ate breakfast, got dressed, then put on her makeup and lipstick. Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, Beth realized that, amazingly, improbably, she had already gotten used to her silver teeth. She didn’t like them, would be overjoyed when once again she smiled and two rows of pearly whites shone back at her, but she was no longer as self-conscious about them as she had been, no longer dreaded going to work or going out in public because her mouth looked like a rap star’s wet dream.
She had more important things to worry about now.
The rectangular glass skyscraper that housed Thompson Industries, the tallest in Tucson, looked forbidding as Beth drove up to it and under it, parking her car in the section of the underground lot reserved for employees. She sat in her car for several minutes, breathing deeply, trying to summon the nerve to get out and go to her office. Through the windshield, she saw Amy from Accounting and Gary Barnes chatting and laughing as they walked past the row of cars to the elevator.
Wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt, she waited for the elevator doors to close before getting out of the car. Bracing herself for confrontation, telling herself that any hostility was not directed at her personally but stemmed from that insurance agent’s hideous machinations, she got into the elevator, pressed the button for the twelfth floor and waited, staring at the numbers as they lit up in sequential order. The elevator doors opened with a ding, and she stepped into the chaos that was the workaday environment of the Public Relations department.
Everyone knew.
She didn’t know how they knew but they did, and she felt like a leper as crowds parted before her, as conversations stopped when she walked by. She continued forward, through the warren of cubicles, past the Xerox room and the photo lab, trying to look straight ahead and keep focusing in front of her, trying not to see the hostile glances directed her way or feel the heat of peripheral stares, trying not to hear the hurtful words whispered behind her back.
She reached her office.
Closed the door.
Locked it.
And burst into tears.
4
Morning dawned dull and gray through the high small windows of the county jail.
At breakfast, in the mess hall, a short fat man who looked like an accountant pushed his way past several inmates to sit next to Hunt on the bench. Hunt was forcing himself to gag down the runny eggs and cold toast, and he looked up when the man clanked his tray down next to his own. “Did you buy insurance?” the man asked.
Hunt’s eyes widened in surprise.
“I was two windows down, talking to my wife. I saw you with the insurance agent.”
In the warm stuffy room crammed with smelly human bodies, Hunt felt cold.
The fat man leaned forward. “Name’s Del. I’m in for…” He shook his head. “Too many things to name.”
Hunt cleared his throat. “How did you know he was an insurance agent?”
“How do you think I got here?”
It was the answer he’d expected to hear, but it still chilled him to the bone. “My name’s Hunt,” he said. “Hunt Jackson. I’m accused of—” He stopped himself, glanced around. He wasn’t sure if any inmates knew why he was here, and he sure as hell didn’t want to let them know. It was probably the only reason his teeth weren’t littering the floor of the shower. “Let’s just say he’s why I’m in here, too.”
Del nodded enthusiastically. “I knew it, I knew it! What happened? Didn’t make your payments?”
“No,” Hunt said. “I didn’t buy legal insurance.”
“Legal insurance. I wasn’t offered that one. What was it supposed to do?”
“Keep me out of here.”
Del snorted. “Typical.” He took a quick swig of cold coffee. “So what’d he offer when he came to visit you? And did you take it?”
“Conviction insurance,” Hunt said. “And, yeah, I’m going to take it.” He hesitated. “If he offers it to me again.”
“You turned him down?”
“He insulted my wife. We
ll, not really insulted her, but he said I had to qualify for the insurance and he started asking me these outrageous questions.”
Del was nodding. “That’s his way. But don’t let it get to you. He’s just testing you.”
Hunt took a deep breath. “Should I have taken the insurance?”
“If it would get you out of here? Hell, yeah!”
“Why are you still here, then?”
“I didn’t pay my premium. Couldn’t pay it. It had just grown so big, and I’d lost my job, and… I was going to pay it, but I was late, and then… then it all fell apart. Things just escalated and then I was arrested, and I had no insurance to protect me. When I saw him here yesterday, talking to you, I thought that maybe he’d come by and see me, too. Maybe he’d offer me some new type of insurance that would get me out of here. But he didn’t. He hasn’t offered me shit.” The fat man nibbled on his cold toast. “Maybe he will, though,” he said hopefully. “Maybe he’s just trying to teach me a lesson.
“That’s why I say, take what you’re offered. You’ve been given a chance, buddy. Jump on it.”
Hunt nodded thoughtfully. “Say,” he said, “did the agent ever give you his name?”
Del shook his head. “No. And I’ve wondered about that, too.” He was silent for a moment. “You know, names have power. In certain cultures, just speaking a man’s name gives you mastery over him. Like in that kid’s story, what’s it called? Goldilocks? Rumpelstiltskin? The one about the evil dwarf who gets the princess’s firstborn child unless she can say his name?” He paused. “I’m only saying this because you know and I know that ain’t any normal insurance salesman. There’s a lot more going on here.”
THE POLICY Page 20