optimistic time. The hallways have that deserted, slightly eerie after-school feeling. Charles walks past posters warning of HIV transmission and the dangers of cigarettes, past a cabinet filled with dusty trophies, until he comes to a frosted-glass door that reads: Guidance Office. He knocks.
“Come in.”
The front room is empty, but a woman is sitting at a desk in one of the four small offices that open off it. She’s reading something in a folder. A sign on her desk identifies her as Claire Eldredge.
“Ms. Eldredge?”
“Yes.”
Charles guesses she’s in her late fifties, large, one of those round-faced women who has probably looked the same since her mid-twenties. She wears her glasses on a chain, a loose gray dress, no makeup. Claire Eldredge’s one vanity appears to be her hair, which is an unnatural brown, styled in a helmet of tight curls.
“I’m sorry to disturb you.”
“I rarely leave before six. This job just keeps getting harder.” She looks at Charles expectantly.
“My name is Charles Davis.”
“The writer.”
“Yes.”
If Claire Eldredge is impressed, she does a good job of disguising it.
“Have a seat. What can I do for you?”
“One of your former students works for me. I’ve become a little concerned about her.”
“What’s the student’s name?”
“Emma Bowles.”
Claire Eldredge’s face grows grave. She leans forward on her elbows.
“I believe she graduated five or six years ago,” Charles says.
“Emma never graduated.”
“She didn’t?”
Claire Eldredge closes the folder on her desk and puts it aside. She takes a pencil out of a cup and turns it between her fingers.
“Emma was gifted, but I could never reach her. She was very much a loner.”
“Can you tell me anything about her family?”
“The father ran off when Emma was very young. Helen Bowles wasn’t the most stable person to begin with.”
“Her mother?”
“Yes. She painted. Or did at one time. Went to art school in Chicago. Fancied herself a bohemian. Dressed outlandishly. Hated Munsonville and wasn’t shy about letting people know it. They lived above the hardware store downtown. She drank. Pills, too. The household was chaotic. Emma did all the shopping, cooking. Not that there was much of either. Helen wouldn’t let Emma have a life of her own. Personally, I think she hated her daughter for being bright and talented.”
“She certainly is talented.”
“More than once she came to school with bruises. She’d often start to cry for no reason. We did a couple of home visits, but Emma always defended her mother. Afterward everyone said they saw it coming.”
“Saw what coming, Ms. Eldredge?” Charles asks too quickly.
Claire Eldredge looks him in the eye. “What exactly are your concerns, Mr. Davis?”
“Well, I’m not entirely sure. She seems so unhappy, so unstable. I want to know why.”
“There’s bound to be instability with a history like hers. I’m glad she’s working for you. Give her my best.”
“Ms. Eldredge?”
“I’ve said too much already. It’s all in the past. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
32
Munsonville’s boxy one-story library is drafty and ill lit, smells of floor wax, and has a meager array of current titles displayed on a folding table. It’s staffed by one distracted middle-aged male librarian. Charles sits in a far corner staring at the screen of a microfilm viewer, scrolling through front pages of the Munsonville Daily Press. Hyperalert, focused like radar, he scans past stories of storms and car crashes-and then he stops:
MUNSONVILLE WOMAN BLUDGEONED TO DEATH DAUGHTER CONFESSES TO CRIME
Helen Bowles, 36, of 12 West Bridge Street, was murdered early Tuesday morning, according to Sergeant Rupert Markum of the Washington County Sheriff’s Department. At 3:14 A.M., a 911 operator received a call from the victim’s daughter, Emma Bowles, who stated, “I hurt my mother.” Officers Ellen Grady and Karl Werner responded to the call, and when they arrived at the scene they discovered Mrs. Bowles’s body lying on the floor of her daughter’s bedroom. The victim had received multiple blows to the skull from a blunt instrument. A small metal lamp found beside the body was covered with blood. According to Officer Grady, Emma Bowles was sitting on the floor near her mother’s body and said, “I did it.” Officer Grady described Miss Bowles, 15, as “weirdly calm.” She was taken to Juvenile Hall at the Washington County Jail, where she is being held on $100,000 bail.
Accompanying the story is a photograph of Emma’s bedroom. Helen Bowles’s body is covered with a blood- soaked sheet. There’s an old iron bed, a cardboard dresser with a goldfish bowl on top, unruly piles of books everywhere, and a poster of Edward Hicks’s The Peaceable Kingdom on the wall. The walls are splattered with blood, sperm-shaped streaks, as if someone holding a sopping paintbrush had whirled around and around in the middle of the room.
Charles feels a sense of disbelief, as if the story and picture aren’t real, exist only on the screen. He sits stock-still, suspended, his breathing shallow, the library silent. Finally he resumes scrolling.
DAUGHTER CLEARED OF MURDER CHARGE
Jury Rules Teen Not Guilty in Killing of Mother
A Washington County jury has found Emma Bowles, 15, not guilty by reason of insanity in the March 12 murder of her mother, Helen Bowles. The deciding factor, according to one member of the jury, was the testimony of a psychiatrist who examined Miss Bowles and reported that she was the victim of chronic abuse. A medical examination offered in evidence documented broken bones, contusions, and sexual trauma suffered by Miss Bowles at her mother’s hands.
Accompanying this article is a photo of Emma, wearing a jail-issue smock, being led out of the county courthouse. She looks passive, tranquilized, her hair tangled, her eyes vacant.
“Closing time,” the librarian calls to Charles.
“Five minutes,” Charles says, his eyes avid on the screen as he scrolls forward, pulse pounding. The librarian lets out a weary theatrical sigh, which Charles ignores.
EMMA BOWLES ATTEMPTS SUICIDE
Officials at Keystone State Psychiatric Hospital in Randall reported that Emma Bowles attempted suicide last night. She was discovered hanging from a ceiling pipe in the women’s lavatory. Rushed to the infirmary, Miss Bowles was resuscitated and is now listed in fair condition. Miss Bowles has been at Keystone State for seven months, since being found not guilty by reason of insanity in the murder of her mother. She was committed to the hospital by Judge Leo Holder-man when found to be a danger to herself. Dr. Alton Waters, the head of the hospital’s juvenile ward, stated, “The staff at Keystone is saddened by Emma’s setback. She seemed to be making progress. However, she is consumed by guilt and recently complained of aural hallucinations. We may be seeing incipient schizophrenia.”
As dusk descends, Charles walks down Main Street. The neon glow from the bars and pizza parlors softens the forlorn street. A little girl appears at the open door of one of the bars, looking around for someone to play with;
