"Richard took her out to the woods not far from his house. Set her up underground, where he could visit her as much as he like and no one would hear a thing. She got a coffee can to use as a toilet a jug of water, and a loaf of bread. That was it. No flashlight, no cot, no blanket to keep her warm. He kept her down there like an animal. And then for nearly a month, he did to her whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

"You have to wonder what that level of systematic abuse does to a child. You have to wonder how she must have felt. Left alone in the dark for long periods of time, then to finally have companionship in the form of a serial rapist. Makes you mad just to think about it, doesn't it?"

Bobby still didn't reply, but his jaw had gone tight and his hands were fisted at his sides. He had a feeling Harris hadn't gotten to the bad part yet. This was merely foreplay; Harris was still warming up.

"Maybe Catherine got lucky when she was found," the investigator said now.

"Or maybe not. How does a person really recover from something like that? Is it ever possible for a girl to put all that behind her, to return to normal?"

Harris waited a heartbeat. Then he announced, "Catherine stopped sleeping the minute Nathan was born. Jimmy would find her pacing the house, frantically turning on lights. He'd bring her to bed, she'd spring out the other side. He'd turn off lights, she'd hunt them down again, including the one in the oven. And it wasn't just her strange compulsions. When she went to pick Nathan up, she'd hold him stiffly, away from her body. The more the baby screamed, the more she carried him around like a soup can she didn't know where to set down. The third day, Jimmy found her standing over the crib, holding a pillow. When Jimmy asked her what she was doing, she said Nathan had told her he was tired and needed to sleep. Jimmy called his parents, panicked. The Gagnons agreed he shouldn't leave Nathan alone with Catherine anymore, and they went to work finding a nanny.

"Now, granted, things calmed down a little once the nanny was hired. Mostly because Catherine handed over her son and never looked back. Literally. The nanny took the baby and Catherine for the local spa. Jimmy got a little frustrated, as you can imagine. He'd thought he'd married this lovely young lady, rescued her even, and this is how she repaid him, abandoning their child, Jetting around Europe and consorting with a bunch of guys she liked to call her 'fellows." For the sake of honesty, maybe Jimmy wasn't the most faithful of husbands, but this sure as hell isn't what anyone would call a happy marriage."

"So why didn't Jimmy just leave her?" Bobby asked.

"Or was beating her much more fun?"

"Ahh, the infamous beatings. So you've already heard. Well let's just say rumors of spousal abuse can be greatly exaggerated Find me a police report. Find me a safe-deposit box filled with photos, or at least one corroborating witness. Stories are easy to tell-let's stick to the facts."

"Fact one." Bobby ticked off a finger.

"If Jimmy was so unhappy in his marriage, why didn't he get out?"

"He did. That's the first time Nathan became 'sick." "What?"

"You got it. Jimmy tried to leave Catherine, and Nathan became magically ill. Nathan was very sick, Catherine claimed. He needed special tests, he needed medical attention. She lined up the best experts money could buy, and Jimmy immediately returned home. His son was deathly ill, for crying out loud. He couldn't leave his wife at a time like that.

"And that was the pattern. Catherine would get caught sleeping with Jimmy's tailor, he'd get mad and Nathan would wind up back in the hospital. Sick, definitely-vomiting, feverish, malnourished-until the minute Jimmy toed the line. Then, Nathan would make a miraculous recovery. As you can imagine, James and Maryanne grew very concerned. Not only was Jimmy becoming a nervous wreck, but they couldn't bear to think what was going on with their grandson."

"And they started alleging child abuse," Bobby filled in. He stopped walking, looking Harris in the eye.

"Got any facts to back up that story, Harris? Because Nathan's own doctor insists there's a medical basis for what's going on."

"Dr. Lancelot?" Harris snorted, also coming to a halt.

"Ask him to say hello to his wife and kids. Catherine's got that poor sap so wrapped around her finger, he'd say the moon was made out of blue cheese if he thought it would make her happy. Six months ago, Jimmy found out she'd been sleeping with the fine doctor. that's when I entered the picture. To start keeping tabs Catherine. To try to figure out what was really going on with Nathan, and better yet to protect Nathan Gagnon, if it came to that. Because Jimmy had had enough. Six months ago, he started making plans for divorce."

They were at a street corner. Traffic picked up, the noise becoming loud. But all of a sudden, it didn't matter. All of a sudden, Bobby knew exactly what Harris was going to say next.

"James and Maryanne were right to be suspicious," Harris told him quietly.

"Unfortunately, they underestimated how clever Catherine can be. They focused their attention on Nathan, never worrying about poor Jimmy.

"Tuesday morning, Jimmy Gagnon formally filed for divorce from Catherine Gagnon. And just, what, sixty hours later, he was dead. You tell me, Officer, is that too much for coincidence?"

"Come on, Harris. It was a domestic disturbance call. She had no way of knowing what would happen next."

"Did you watch TV Thursday night, Officer Dodge? Hear the reports of how the Boston PD were already called out on a job, the same Boston PD officers who knew Jimmy and Catherine and might have shown a little more finesse in handling the situation? It makes me wonder if Catherine watched TV that night, too."

"She still couldn't have known that Jimmy would come home drunk, that Jimmy would get mad, that Jimmy would grab a gun-" "Really? Because I know a lot of wives who know exactly how to push their husbands' buttons, the best way to pick a fight, the fastest way to burn his balls. Surely you've seen it before, Officer Dodge. There isn't a wife out there who can't make her husband fit to kill."

Harris gave him a meaningful look. This time, Bobby wasn't so quick to reply.

"She's going to call you again," Harris stated.

"She's going to tell you her son is desperately ill. She's going to tell you that you're the only hope she has left. She's going to beg you to help her. It's what she does, Officer Dodge; she destroys men's lives."

"You honestly think she'd kill her own child just to get back at her husband?"

Harris merely shrugged.

"Men may be violent, Officer Dodge, ut let's face it-women are cruel." The man sat at a table outside a coffee bar at Faneuil Hall, frowning first at his double mocha latte, then at the scenery around him. What the hell had happened to this place? The Faneuil Hall of his memory had cutsey little boutiques, old Irish pubs, and lots of cheesy souvenirs. Now he was staring at The Disney Store, Gap, and Ann Taylor. The historic market had become a fucking suburban mall. There was progress for you.

The man grunted, sipped his double mocha latte, and promptly grimaced. For the record, he'd been waiting a decade to try this drink-watching TV characters, rock stars, and movie actresses sip double-soy this or tall nonfat mocha that while hanging out in chic little coffee shops. You wore tight clothes, sipped your super-caffeinated beverage, then drove off in your Eddie Bauer SUV, Jennifer Aniston-looking wife sitting next to you, golden retriever panting in the back. Welcome to the American Dream.

Well, all these years of wondering later, the man had his answer-double mocha lattes tasted one step above cat piss. He was not picturing SUVs, soccer games, or perfectly mowed lawns. He was thinking how the hell had he gotten suckered into paying so much money for something that tasted so positively bad? It was tempting to return to the coffee counter. He would stand right in front of the black-haired cashier with her numerous facial piercings and sullen attitude. He'd never say a word. Just stand. Stare. She'd give him his money back in sixty seconds or less.