what you think. I didn’t have another affair.”
“What then?”
“I caught a student selling pot. And I turned him in to both the principal and the police.”
“Randy Wolf,” Myron said.
Davis nodded.
“What happened?”
“His father. Do you know the man?”
“We’ve met.”
“He did some digging. There were a few scant rumors about my liaison with the student. He hired a private eye. He also got another teacher, a man named Drew Van Dyne, to help him. Van Dyne, you see, was Randy’s drug supplier.”
“So if Randy was prosecuted,” Myron said, “Van Dyne had a lot to lose too.”
“Yes.”
“So let me guess. Jake Wolf found out about your affair.”
Davis nodded.
“And he blackmailed you into keeping quiet.”
“Oh, he did more than that.”
Myron looked down at the man’s foot. The blood had let up. Myron should get him to a hospital, he knew that, but he didn’t want to lose this momentum either. The odd thing was, Davis did not seem in pain. He wanted to talk. He had probably been thinking about these crazy justifications for years, rattling alone in his brain, and now finally he was being given the chance to express them.
“Jake Wolf had me now,” Davis went on. “Once you start down the blackmail road, you never really get off it. Yes, he offered to pay me. And yes, I took the money.”
Myron thought about what Wheat Manson had told him on the phone. “You were not just a teacher. You were a guidance counselor.”
“Yes.”
“You had access to student transcripts. I’ve seen how far parents in this town will go to get their kids into the right college.”
“You have no idea,” Davis said.
“Yeah, I do. It wasn’t that different when I was a kid. So Jake Wolf had you change his son’s grades.”
“Something like that. I just switched the academic part of his transcript. Randy wanted to go to Dartmouth. Dartmouth wanted Randy because of his football. But they needed him to be in the top ten percent. There are four hundred kids in his class. Randy was ranked fifty-third — not bad, but not top ten percent. There is another student, a bright kid named Ray Clarke. He’s ranked fifth in the class. Clarke got into Georgetown early decision. So I knew he wouldn’t be applying anywhere else….”
“So you switched Randy’s transcript with this Clarke kid’s?”
“Yes.”
Now Myron remembered something else, something Randy had said about trying to win Aimee back, about that backfiring, about having the same goal. “And you did the same thing for Aimee Biel. To make sure she got into Duke. Randy asked you to do that, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“And when Randy told Aimee what he’d done, he figured that she’d be grateful. Except she wasn’t. She started investigating. She tried to break into the school computer and see what happened. She called Roger Chang, the number-four kid in the class, to see what his grades and extracurricular activities were. She was trying to put together what you guys had done.”
“That I don’t know,” Davis said. He was losing the adrenaline flow. He was wincing in pain now. “I never talked to Aimee about it. I don’t know what Randy said to her — that’s what I was asking him about when you saw us in the school parking lot. He said he hadn’t used my name, that he’d just told her he was going to help her get into Duke.”
“But Aimee put it together. Or at least she was trying to.”
“That could be.”
He winced again. Myron didn’t care.
“So now we’re up to the big night, Harry. Why did Aimee have me drop her off here?”
The kitchen door swung open. Erik stuck his head into the room. “How are we doing?”
“We’re doing okay,” Myron said.
Myron expected an argument, but Erik just disappeared back into the kitchen.
“He’s crazy,” Davis said.
“You have daughters, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Then he nodded as if he suddenly understood.
“You’re stalling, Harry. Your foot is bleeding. You need medical attention.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“You’ve come this far. Let’s get it done. Where is Aimee?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did she stop by?”
He closed his eyes.
“Harry?”
His voice was soft. “God forgive me, but I don’t know.”
“You want to explain?”
“She knocked on the door. It was ridiculously late. Two, three in the morning. I don’t know. Donna and I were asleep. She scared the hell out of us. We went to the window. We both saw her. I turned to my wife. You should have seen the look on her face. There was so much hurt. All the distrust, all that I’d been fighting to mend, it all ripped apart. She started to cry.”
“So what did you do?”
“I sent Aimee away.”
Silence.
“I opened the window. I said it was late. I told her we could talk Monday.”
“What did Aimee do?”
“She just looked up at me. She didn’t say a word. She was disappointed, I could tell that.” Davis squeezed his eyes shut. “But I was also afraid that maybe she was angry.”
“She just walked away?”
“Yes.”
“And now she’s missing,” Myron said. “Before she could reveal what she knew. Before she could destroy you. And if the cheating scandal came out, well, it was like I said when we first talked. It’s over for you. It would all come out.”
“I know. I thought of that.”
He stopped. Tears started running down his cheeks.
“What?” Myron said.
“My third big mistake,” he said, his voice soft.
Myron felt a chill run down his spine. “What did you do?”
“I wouldn’t hurt her. Not ever. I cared about her.”
“What did you do, Harry?”
“I was confused. I didn’t know what the situation was. So I got scared when she showed up. I knew what it could mean — like you said. Everything could come out. All of it. And I panicked.”
“What did you do?” Myron asked again.
“I called someone. As soon as she left. I called someone I thought could help figure out what to do next.”
“Who did you call, Harry?”
“Jake Wolf,” he said. “I called Jake Wolf and told him that Aimee Biel was right outside my door.”
