Stranglehold. Part 16

She wondered what his personal life was like.

The wedding ring was her only clue.

And it wasn't any of her business.

"Based on their investigation the court will issue a summons for Arthur, you and Robert to appear at a preliminary hearing to establish probable cause. If they find probable cause ..."

"If?"

He smiled. "Sorry. Legalspeak. They will, don't worry. That's what the psychologist and proctologist are all about. I think we've got that part well covered. Anyhow, the statute says that the preliminary hearing has to be held within seven days of the summons. So this will all be happening pretty fast."

"And what about visitation rights? I mean in the meantime. My understanding is that I'm in violation of the terms of the divorce if I don't let Arthur see him at least one more time this week. My G.o.d. Is that true? Can he really expect that?"

"He can demand to see Robert, sure, if he wants to. But our complaint will limit visitation until the case is adjudicated. He'll only be able to see him under supervision."

"I don't want him to see him at all for G.o.d sakes!"

"Sorry. No can do."

"Why not?"

"Lydia, until we prove the case against him he retains his parental rights."

"Jesus. s.h.i.+t!"

"I know exactly what you mean."

The man looked haggard. He hadn't slept much last night, she was sure of that. She wondered why. Something was bothering him. And she doubted that his losing sleep had much to do with her situation-he was a lawyer after all. No, this was something else. Had to be. Something personal.

And again-none of her business.

"Okay. Go on."

"All right. Within thirty days of the preliminary we go to an adjudicatory hearing before a judge in Superior Court. Unfortunately, it won't be Clarke, the judge who granted your divorce-she's out indefinitely with some kind of heart situation. In any case, we'll be looking for exclusive custody. At the adjudicatory we can present our evidence and call our witnesses. The doctors, you, Ralph Duggan on the beating, your friend Cindy I think, maybe his teacher-and hopefully by then, Robert himself. I've pet.i.tioned the court clerk to appoint a guardian ad litem for Robert-an attorney-for purposes of the litigation and to a.s.sess his situation and advocate his best interests as he or she sees them. That's who you'll be seeing tonight."

"Robert has an attorney?"

"Yes. Hopefully somebody we can work with, someone who'll be squarely on our side."

"And if not?"

"If Robert won't talk then our case is circ.u.mstantial. But it's still pretty compelling. You could argue that he could have done this to himself somehow-used some object or something. But it clearly isn't likely. You could argue that someone other than Arthur did it without Arthur's knowledge. In that case they'd have to come up with a likely suspect. Someone with opportunity."

"Like me."

"You?" He laughed.

"Bromberg told me he'd considered it."

Sansom thought about that a moment, drumming his desk with a pencil.

"Maybe that'll change once he sees Robert. If not, I guess we're going to have to have a talk with him. a.s.sess his level of cooperation. Possibly get another opinion. But our best bet is to get your boy to say what happened, hard as it may be for him. You have to really work on that."

She would, but not now. Robert still had Bromberg to see. And then, tonight, the attorney.

What a day for him, she thought.

What a b.i.t.c.h of a day it must be.

She glanced at Robert now, gazing out the frost-melted window beside her, strapped tightly into his seat, hurtling powerless through the wintry streets.

He turned to her, his face unexpectedly alight.

"Mom? Do you think tomorrow night we could maybe just go to a movie?"

She smiled. "Sure."

"Yeah!"

"You got it," she said and reached over and patted his hand.

"And we'll leave real early so we'll be the first ones there so we'll definitely get seats this time, okay?"

"Okay."

"Great. Neat," he said and turned to the window again.

She thought that either he was blocking all this out very successfully or her son had a kind of courage. The former was troubling. The latter, she thought, might be necessary through all the days ahead of them.

She could have her hopes.

He sat on the floor with his back to the television set his mother had turned off before she left the room and listened to Miss Stone. Miss Stone was probably younger than his mother and she was pretty, he thought. Though he thought his mother was prettier. Miss Stone had nice, soft-looking, s.h.i.+ny blonde hair, though, just like Chrissy at school. Her hair was long and straight and that was like Chrissy too.

Chrissy was nice but the one he really liked was Laura.

He found it hard to concentrate on what Miss Stone was saying. More questions. All day long everybody kept asking him stuff. He kept wis.h.i.+ng it was bedtime.

And that was pretty weird right there.

Then she started on the really bad questions.

"Is there somebody who does things to you, Robert? Who touches you where you don't want to be touched?"

He couldn't help it. He started squirming on the rug. Like the question hit a Nintendo b.u.t.ton and from there it was automatic.

How much could he tell her?

He knew he had to say something, that he had to help them somehow. He knew they were doing this just for him, to get his dad to make it stop. He wanted his dad to stop more than he wanted practically anything-but he didn't want his dad to hurt his mom and he would. He knew his dad better than anybody did. He'd hurt her bad.

And it was up to him to protect her.

Maybe he could tell her without telling her, he thought. Sort of like what he tried to do with Dr. Bromberg earlier. "Maybe," he said.

"Somebody who touches you where you don't want to be touched?"

"Maybe."

"Where is that?"

It was getting dangerous now.

"Private ... parts, maybe," he said.

"They touch your private parts?"

"Maybe."

"Who does, Robert?"

He wasn't saying that. No matter what. He couldn't. Even though jeez, he wanted to. If he could only just say my father does, it's my father who does it. But he kept on seeing the rabbit.

He'd wait. Sooner or later she'd leave the question alone and just go on.

The others did.

He watched her write in her book. She seemed kind of nice. She had a nice voice, anyway. He liked that. He waited and stared at the rug.

"You won't tell me?"

He shook his head.

"Why?"

He waited some more. His skin felt itchy. Like he'd been swimming at the beach and his skin was all sticky with salt from the ocean. He rubbed his b.u.t.t against the rug. It helped a little but not much.

"When this happens, does it hurt you?"

He was safer now. Good.

"Yes."

"A lot?"

He nodded.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Hurts my private parts."

"Front or back? Or both?"

"Back."

"And you won't say who does this to you?"

He shook his head.

"Does it happen often?"

"Maybe."

"Does it happen in this house?"

Careful.

Because it used to. Not anymore but it sure used to happen. Be careful. Miss Stone looked smart. It might be the same as saying.

Don't answer.

She leaned forward like she needed to get closer for some reason but didn't want to actually move off the couch to the floor with him.

"Robert, I have to ask you this. It's very important. In a way it's the most important question I'll have asked you all night-and I really, really need you to answer me on this one, okay?"

He shrugged.

But inside she was scaring him. Waiting for it. Waiting for the question.

He'd lie if he had to. And that scared him too.

"Robert, is it your mother who hurts you?" she said.

"Jeez! No!"

He actually jumped.

How could she even think something like that? It was like she'd hit him in the head.

People were crazy sometimes.

She smiled. Almost laughed. Like maybe she was relieved or something or maybe he just looked funny the way she made him jump. Anyway, he could see it.

But then she got serious again and he knew it was coming. "Is it your father, Robert?"

He saw the rabbit with its leg shot off in his father's hand. He saw him pick up a knife when they were back at the house and pinch the skin and the soft brown fur on the rabbit's back and then stick the knife in and make a slit and then put his fingers into the slit and tear the skin completely around, then peel half the skin all the way down to its feet like maybe you'd take off a sock or something and then saw him cut off its feet. He saw him do the same thing to the top half, except that this time he cut off not just the feet but the rabbit's head and then made a cut in the pink naked chest and reached in and pulled out the guts.

You can do this to a human, too, he said.

Same thing.