Silent Witness (34 page)

‘But this is a different case. And I recognize it as such.

‘True, Sam Robb was alone with a teenage girl at night. But he himself is
not
a teenager.

‘He is a forty-six-year-old man, entrusted with the safety and welfare of the students at Lake City High School. Instead he took a lovely sixteen-year-old girl to the park at night, alone.'

Sam gazed at Alison's father, too ashamed to look away. Glancing at Sue, Tony saw her eyes close.

‘Oh, I know all the arguments,' John Taylor went on. ‘That it's not
proven
that Marcie Calder was murdered, or that Sam Robb is guilty of anything “beyond a reasonable doubt.” It's painfully familiar to me, and has been for too many years.

‘But what on earth does
that
have to do with whether Sam Robb is fit to continue as vice principal?

‘
Nothing
. Because Sam Robb has condemned himself out of his own mouth.'

As John Taylor turned his haggard face to Sam, Tony saw, more clearly than ever, what the worm of hatred had done to him. Slowly, John Taylor raised an accusing finger, his voice trembling. ‘Why don't you explain yourself? Why do you sit there, silent, hiding behind your lawyer?' Now his voice was laced with contempt. ‘
Anthony Lord
.'

Sam flushed with anger; staring at John Taylor, Tony concealed his own. The board sat in veiled silence, their attentiveness not masking the difficulty of the moment.

Abruptly, John Taylor faced them again. ‘Let Sam Robb speak for himself,
tonight
. Otherwise, he has no right to our money, or our trust.'

Without more, John Taylor turned and took his seat next to the Calders. Awkwardly, Frank Calder touched his shoulder; Tony considered what odd allies they were, the thwarted striver and the wealthy man who once had disliked Catholics, united by their loss and sorrow, tormented by a hatred against which, had John Taylor more compassion, the older man might have warned the younger.

Behind his glasses, Doug Barker seemed to squint, like a man with a headache. ‘The board appreciates,' he said, ‘the concern for others which John Taylor has shown us. It will not soon be forgotten.'

‘Hang in there,' Tony whispered to Sam. ‘It's better if I go last.'

After consulting
Robert's Rules of Order
, Doug Barker invited a gaunt, birdlike woman to the podium: Jane Whitman, former head of the PTA, designated to speak for a coalition of concerned citizens – including the Alison Foundation.

‘People are afraid,' she said flatly. ‘And who can blame them? The vice principal of our high school is the only suspect in the suspicious death of Marcie Calder.

‘I don't know why Sam Robb hasn't been charged. Perhaps the police and county prosecutor have the luxury of building an airtight case on a death that's too late to stop. But that's no excuse for retaining a vice principal who, if he had any sense of decency at all, should have resigned his job in shame.

‘If he stays in this job, the shame is ours.'

Suddenly she snapped her head toward Sue and Sam. ‘We can't make this man leave Lake City. All we can do is make sure he's not in charge of our daughters, ever again.'

Instinctively, Sue reached to cover Sam's hand with her own. As if startled, Jane Whitman turned to the Calders for support, saw the tears on Nancy Calder's face. ‘We're sorry, dear.' For a moment, her voice was gentler, that of the schoolteacher she once had been. ‘We're all so sorry. I only wish we'd known.'

Pausing, Jane Whitman turned to the board again, fixing each with an accusing gaze. ‘What should we value more – the “rights” of this man, or the safety of our children? If you were Frank and Nancy Calder, you'd already know the answer.

‘The standard here is not reasonable doubt, but the moral fitness of our teachers and administrators. And by that standard, there is
no
doubt that Sam Robb should never guide our children again.' Here, she paused. ‘To the park at night, or otherwise.'

When she sat, there was ragged applause. Three speakers followed – a pharmacist, a gas station owner, and the head of Rotary – all calling for Sam's termination. And then Frank Calder stood, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. His voice was flat and unresonant, the twang of the Midwest; it seemed to give the unadorned words a certain dignity.

‘I'm Frank Calder,' he said. ‘Marcie's father.'

Doug Barker's face showed genuine anguish. ‘We know, Frank. On behalf of the board, we want to tell you how bad we all feel.'

Nodding, Frank Calder bowed his head. ‘We come here for the schools, you know. So that our three girls could have the best public education and the safest place to be. That's what we wanted for them, Nancy and I.'

‘Jesus,' Sam murmured. He was right to worry, Tony knew: no matter what he said, or how he said it, Frank Calder personified the hopes and fears of Sam's hometown. Tony found it painful to watch this repetition of a nightmare.

‘We never expected to have our innocent daughter tell us lies,' Frank Calder said baldly, ‘so that she could meet Sam Robb on lovers' lane.

‘
He
says Marcie wanted to have a talk with him. His office isn't good enough? He has to meet her at Taylor Park, at night?' He paused, swallowing. ‘We
know
what he had in mind. And we all know what happened to Marcie, don't we?

‘This is the kind of thing we expect our schools to prevent,
not
promote. We
trusted
him. . . .' His throat caught, and he started again. ‘We trusted
him
, and we trusted you. And look where it got us.

‘Well, now we know.
All
of us know. Nancy and I agree with Mr. Taylor – let him talk. Or, in the name of all that's decent, fire him outright . . .'

His hands were trembling, Tony saw. Frank Calder opened his mouth to speak again and then could not, as if his own thoughts had stricken him. He began backing to his seat, still staring at the board. When Nancy Calder stood, taking her husband's arm, Tony felt this suck all noise from the room.

Doug Barker glanced toward Sam. ‘Is there someone,' he asked, ‘designated to speak for Mr. Robb?'

Their opponents' strategy, Tony had warned Sam, would be to shame Sam into resigning, or – at the least – into speaking. Watching Sam restrain himself, Tony felt the weight of his responsibility to speak for him. As he stepped to the podium, holding a manila envelope, Tony's palms were damp.

‘Hello, Doug,' he said quietly.

Doug Barker looked surprised. ‘Hello, Tony,' he answered.

Laying the envelope in front of him, Tony felt Kay Marston watch him, curious. ‘For those of you who don't know me, I'm Anthony Lord – Sam Robb's lawyer, and his friend. I used to live here, once. And, for many reasons, I deeply regret the tragedy which has brought me here again.'

As Tony expected, the effect of understatement, combined with the known facts of his life, purchased their attention. The room felt as still as before.

‘Twenty-eight years ago,' he went on, ‘Alison Taylor was murdered in that same park.

‘I had been waiting there, for her to sneak out of the Taylors' house, as kids in this town had done before, and no doubt have done since. And when Alison did not appear, I went to look for her.

‘There were others in the park that night, just as there are now. I heard footsteps, someone coming from the Taylors' backyard. And then I found Alison lying there, a moment before John Taylor found us both.' Tony paused, watching the stunned faces of the board. ‘That moment has haunted me ever since. It will haunt me for the rest of my life. Not only because of Alison, whom I loved, but because so many people in this town found me guilty without proof.

‘First among them, for reasons I understand, was John Taylor. But we share another common memory, one which he alluded to. Twenty-eight years ago, he asked the school board to expel me. My lawyer came here to speak for me, as I speak for Sam tonight. And by a one-vote majority, the board permitted me to graduate.

‘Because of that, I am a graduate of Harvard College and its law school. Because of that, I live a happy and successful life, in which
no
one – except perhaps in this same town – believes me capable of murder.

‘My task, all these years later, is to ask this board to act with that same caution. And to remember all of the years that Sam Robb has given to this school.

‘For that, a single letter will do. It is the letter of Jack Burton, principal of Lake City High.' Pausing, Tony handed up the envelope to Doug Barker. ‘I have copies of the letter for each of you. What it says is beyond dispute – that Sam Robb has been at Lake City High for twenty years without a student complaint of any kind, or any prior reason to believe that Sam Robb had indulged in
any
improper conduct toward
any
student. In its own way, it is an eloquent document.'

It should be, Tony thought – he had written it himself, not trusting Jack Burton to speak in public or even compose the words. And no words could do justice to Burton's expression as he signed it, as complex as Tony's feelings now.

‘Regrettably, Principal Burton is ill this evening. But what his letter tells you is that Sam Robb has an unblemished record of excellence. And what Principal Burton recommends you do, in simple fairness, is retain Mr. Robb on administrative leave until the facts are adjudicated.'

Tony paused, waiting until Doug Barker looked up from the letter. ‘The proponents of termination, on the other hand, assume despite this record that Sam Robb is a danger, perhaps a murderer, because of what has befallen Marcie Calder. But as Principal Burton confirms, if you'd given this description to Sam Robb's friends, his colleagues, his students, or to anyone else who knew him, they never would have imagined it applied to Sam.' Glancing at Marcie's parents, Tony added softly, ‘And that, I'm sure, includes the Calders.

‘Now they search for answers to a tragedy. But with the deepest respect for all that they have suffered, and will always suffer, there are no answers here.' Pausing, Tony spoke directly to Doug Barker. ‘This board cannot decide either
how
she died or
who
is responsible – you know only that, as soon as Marcie went missing,
Sam Robb
acted responsibly. So it is beyond your knowledge, or your authority, to decide what the courts have not decided. Mindful of your responsibility to Sam Robb
and
for the sound governance of Lake City's schools – moral, legal, and financial – you should not try.'

The veiled threat, Tony saw, made Kay Marston sit straighter. ‘This board,' Tony went on, ‘has already reported the appearance of potentially improper conduct to the criminal authorities, as is its obligation by law. Until the legal system has spoken, this specter of a dangerous man, so different from the Sam Robb that all of you know well, should not become the pretext for a witch hunt.

‘As for the presumption that Sam Robb's relationship to Marcie Calder was improper, my response is simple – wait your turn.

‘We've abolished burning at the stake or – as one of the speakers apparently regrets – banishment.' Once more, Tony's voice was quiet. ‘Your obligation to the Calders is to honor Marcie's memory. Do not try to comfort them with the gift of a second ruined life, which does nothing to mend their tragic loss and which later, as time passes, they may regret having asked for in their daughter's name. As, long before, may you.'

Without more, Tony sat. Slumped, Sam clasped his shoulder with one hand, looked as exhausted as Tony, quite suddenly, felt.

The board looked tense, irresolute. As Doug Barker turned to the others, Tony saw the doubt in his eyes. ‘Before we entertain motions, does any member have a statement for the record?'

After a moment, one of Barker's allies, Allan Proctor, the smooth-faced owner of the local Dale Carnegie franchise, leaned toward his microphone.

‘In my job,' he said, ‘I hear a lot of rhetoric. I think what we've just heard, however cleverly put, is diversionary rhetoric and empty threats. What Mr. Lord is implying is that we should wait – give Sam Robb a full hearing
after
the courts have made some determination of criminal conduct.' Turning, he gave Sam a look of contempt. ‘But I don't believe Sam Robb would ever go through a hearing – he'd have to say what he was doing with Marcie, or
refuse
to say, and either way it's an admission of guilt. So I don't think there's a whole lot of danger in firing the man ASAP.'

It was shrewd, Tony knew – if all he could do was to get Sam a hearing, too soon, the string was almost played out, for Sam would have to invoke the Fifth Amendment. But Kay Marston's sharp look at Proctor telegraphed her skepticism. ‘Did you discuss this notion with Mr. Lord? Or our lawyer?'

Proctor pursed his mouth. ‘No.'

‘Were you going to?' Marston snapped. ‘I mean, before we fired him?'

‘It's just common sense, Kay. . . .'

‘So your “thought” is that
after
we fire Sam Robb, instead of suing the school system, he'll be grateful we spared him the trouble of a hearing.' Kay Marston turned to Tony. ‘Any thoughts about
that
, Mr. Lord?'

Tony stood. ‘Two. First, as your lawyer no doubt agrees, Sam is entitled to a formal hearing. Second, firing Sam Robb now would shatter his reputation without cause, and lead to substantial damages.'

Kay Marston nodded briskly. ‘Translated,' she said to Proctor, ‘that falls a little short of “thank you.”'

For a moment, their tension silenced the board. Then Proctor turned to Sam and asked, ‘Why don't you just leave? How, in God's name, could you take this girl to the park and then put her parents and all of us through an ordeal like we've had tonight?'