The Newman Resident (19 page)

“How?”

“They’re not sure. Autopsy tomorrow.”

“What do you think now, Richard?” Paul asked. “Are we still paranoid?”

“You think the school killed Tanya?”

“Oh, man, I never said it did,” Paul said. “I never said it killed Joseph’s boy, either. But you can keep your nose clean, avoid all responsibility, and let things happen. And that’s just as bad, isn’t it?”

They heard something going on in the living room and went to investigate. In the living room, they found Sandra standing up with her husband, and both of them embracing Joseph. The three were sobbing as they held on tightly to one another.

“
They
know what it’s like when people let things happen,” Paul whispered to Richard.

CHAPTER
FORTY-FOUR

T
he curtains were drawn, and a single lamp on the floor softly shone its light. Richard sat on the floor and leaned against the wall. Harold and Rebecca sat across from him. It was almost two o’clock, and everyone else had left over an hour ago.

“So, what do you suggest? What can be done?” Richard asked.

“We pray,” Rebecca said.

“The synagogue is our second home,” Harold added.

Richard smiled.

“What is it?” Harold asked.

“You sound like my parents.”

“They’re Jewish?” Rebecca asked. They all smiled.

“No, Episcopalians. But often attributed good things that happened in our lives to prayer.”

“And what about you, Richard?” Rebecca asked.

“Oh, I used to think I was somewhat religious. But things started happening with my younger brother, and I decided life needed more action and less prayer.”

“Don’t be so sure they’re different,” Harold said. “Besides, prayer isn’t all we are doing. We’ve got our plan.”

Rebecca gave her husband a sharp look.

“What plan?” Richard asked.

“Nothing specific, I guess,” Harold said.

“Well, then, generally? What is there left to try? The courts?”

“It’s difficult to prove the school does anything illegal. All we have are children with empty eyes.”

“And two children who have died,” Richard said.

“Think about it,” Rebecca said. “The children look happy enough at Newman. They’re learning, they’re among friends, their teachers seem to love them. It’s only when they’re home they seem lonely, so robotic. It’s hard to make the case to a judge that they’re better off with their parents.”

“Unless we have evidence that links the school to the deaths,” Harold said, “we have nothing.”

“Politicians?” Richard said. “What about getting the mayor or someone involved?”

“The mayor’s daughter is at Newman. Besides,” Harold said, “Newman knows where to send his lobbyists, and his money. There are good men and women in government, but without proof, they can’t bite the hand that feeds them.”

“Even with proof, some still wouldn’t,” Rebecca said.

“Then what? What’s your plan?”

Rebecca and Harold looked at each other, clearly uneasy about something.

“You can trust me,” Richard whispered. “Don’t you know that by now?”

“To be honest,” Rebecca said, “we haven’t always known that.”

“At first, we wondered,” Harold said. “You accomplished something no one else has ever been able to: you got your son out on the sabbatical. Why were they so willing to let you? But we’ve talked with you, we’ve listened to you, we’ve watched you. We trust you now.”

“It’s a risk,” Rebecca said, “but in desperate times, we must learn to trust.”

Harold took a card out of his pocket and handed it to Richard. “Put this number in your cell phone, Richard. If you’re ever in any trouble related to Christopher and the school, call it. The person answering will ask you for your account number. If you give the right password, you’ll be connected to someone who can help.”

“Password?”

“Yes. This week it’s ‘Jacob.’ We’ll let you know the new one each week. Keep it to yourself. Maybe this would’ve been a nice number to have when they tried to kidnap Christopher the other day.”

“How did you know about that?”

“We are just a small part of a strong network of concerned parents,” Rebecca said. “Not just parents with children at Newman, but parents who worry about what’s happening in our schools, who don’t like the idea of Newman being the future. We know enough to be scared, but we’ll wait until the right time. We don’t want to endanger anyone’s child.”

“Did Joseph call this number when his son was missing?”

Harold shook his head. “Unfortunately, we didn’t have it set up then. The only person who’s used it so far is Sandra, when she found out about the death of her daughter.”

“What did your network do?”

“Tanya had already died,” Harold said. “What could we do? We notified the other parents to beware of their child being taken to the hospital.”

“One more thing,” Richard said.

“Yes?”

“What did you mean when you said ‘they’ tried to kidnap Christopher? Do you have evidence that the school tried to do it?”

“No evidence. That’s always the problem, we have no evidence.”

“Then, for all you know,” Richard said, “it could have been someone else?”

“And with all you know,” Harold said, “could it have been someone else?”

CHAPTER
FORTY-FIVE

R
ichard closed his notebook and put it away while Christopher placed the new car he’d built into the Legos bucket to play with later. They’d decided to watch a video together when Carol called. She was downstairs, she said, waiting in one of her firm’s cars. She wanted them to come down for a surprise. All she would tell Richard was they were going somewhere perfectly safe.

Richard and Christopher got into the back of the black sedan with Carol. One of her firm’s drivers was behind the wheel.

“What’s going on?” Richard asked.

“You’ll see,” Carol said. “Trust me.”

After about ten minutes, the car stopped in front of a large office building that looked vaguely familiar to Richard. They entered a colorful lobby where there were four chairs and a table in the middle of a room full of beanbag chairs and stuffed animals. Next to a set of double-doors was a large sign: TempCare.

“No,” Richard said. “I told you this was out of the question.”

“This is the safest place in the country for children, Mr. Carson,” a man said as he entered through the doors. “There’s nothing to worry about here.”

“This is Dr. Hawkins,” Carol said. “He doesn’t usually gives tours, but I pulled a few strings. Said we needed the best.”

“Let’s go, Christopher,” Richard said, turning to the front door.

Carol stopped him. “Please, just a tour. If you don’t like it, then it’s out of the question.”

Richard took a deep breath and looked down at Christopher. “And if you don’t like it, son, it’s really out of the question.”

“Thank you for taking the time,” Dr. Hawkins said, shaking hands. He wore khaki slacks, a blue denim shirt, a tie with tigers on it. Like he was trying not to look like a doctor. He even had stubble on his face. They walked down a short hall to the stairwell and started up the stairs, Christopher holding his father’s hand.

“We’ve been in business about three years, Mr. Carson,” Dr. Hawkins said. “Though it may not sound very modest, we’ve had nothing but success. We’re proud of the contribution we’ve made to the general welfare of children and hope to establish other TempCares in the near future.”

“What contribution is that, Doctor?” Richard said.

They turned at the top of the stairs and proceeded down a long, white hall. “Adults were finding it increasingly difficult to accomplish their life-goals and be parents as well. You know the struggle.”

Richard didn’t say anything.

“Because of our services,” Dr. Hawkins said, “parents can now go on business trips, vacations, or simply enjoy a peaceful week or two at home, knowing their children are well cared for.” The doctor stopped and turned to Richard, winking. “To be frank, in most cases, better cared for.”

“You make it sound like this is an altruistic enterprise. I’m assuming you charge a good amount for your contribution to
society.” Richard noticed the disapproval on his wife’s face, but he didn’t mind.

“Nothing worthwhile is cheap. How much is your son worth, Mr. Carson?”

“He’s not for sale.”

They stopped at a one-way mirror. On the other side were two adults and about twenty-five children, ranging in age from three to thirteen, each wearing a charcoal gray uniform. They were divided into four groups, apparently based on age. The youngest children were circling pictures in their workbooks while the others were writing words.

The doctor explained that every child, or, as he called them, “visitor,” wore a uniform during their stay to help eliminate any potential feelings of jealousy. He expounded on their teaching techniques, pointing out that visitors in TempCare actually spent more time in receiving instruction than they did in public and private schools. “Almost as much instruction as one will find in Newman, I’m proud to say.”

Christopher was barely tall enough to look through the mirror. “Where are your Legos?”

“Come,” Dr. Hawkins said. “I’ll show you something we’re particularly proud of.”

The doctor started walking down the hall. “Excuse me,” Richard said, “but Christopher asked a question.”

“He did?”

“Yes. Go ahead, son, it was a good question.”

Christopher hesitated. “Where are your Legos?”

“My what?”

“Legos,” Richard said. “You know, little blocks, all sorts of different colors, that you can connect to build things.”

“Toys?” Dr. Hawkins glanced at Carol. “Well, we have a break time in the morning, and one in the afternoon, and we have some toys for the visitors to play with then. Keep in mind, this is a place for children to come and learn. We’re not here to baby-sit.”

“What kind of toys?” Richard asked. “Legos?”

“Not Legos, but some educational ones.”

“They’re educational,” Christopher said.

“I suppose they might be, if one wishes to work in construction,” Dr. Hawkins said. He opened a door and motioned for them to follow.

“I don’t think we really have to bombard him with all the questions,” Carol whispered.

“We agreed to let Christopher and me check this place out. Part of that is questions.”

“You’re not even giving this place a chance.”

“We don’t need this place. Christopher can go with us wherever we decide to go.”

They went down another white hall. The doctor stopped at another one-way mirror and pointed to a group of children, each wearing a black uniform. They were also divided into groups and studying workbooks, but they seemed somewhat lethargic. An adult sat in the back of the room, wearing a surgical mask.

“We’re proud of this service,” Dr. Hawkins said. “Sometimes parents will make their plans, only to be bothered with a child coming down with a cold or flu.” He smiled. “We have a separate area for ill visitors, making certain that they study, eat, and sleep separately from the well visitors. If any of them goes into the wrong area, we know right away because of the black uniforms. Mr. and Mrs. Carson, you need not worry about Christopher catching anything while here.”

“But, doesn’t lumping them together make the sick kids even sicker?” Christopher said.

“Is there anything else you’d like to show us?” Carol asked.

“No, that concludes the tour. Let us go back the way we came, and you can sign the papers at the front desk.”

“Doctor,” Richard said, “did you hear Christopher’s question?”

Dr. Hawkins started walking down the hall, with Carol close behind, but Richard and Christopher both stood at the one-way mirror, watching the children. The one adult in the room was obviously staying as far away as she could in the corner. Several children had handkerchiefs with them, constantly wiping their noses. One little girl, no more than five years old, lay under a table that other children were working on. Her eyes were red and swollen, her nose running.

“Doctor,” Richard said. “By the way, what kind of doctor are you?”

Dr. Hawkins and Carol were now at the end of the hall, by the door. “A psychologist.”

“Oh,” Richard nodded. “Well, Doctor, I’d like to see where the children sleep.”

“That’s not part of the tour, Mr. Carson.”

“I’ve got to be getting back to work, Richard,” Carol said. She pointed to her watch. “Dr. Hawkins, thank you for the tour. Where are the papers?”

“No,” Richard said, “I’d really like to see where the children sleep. There’s nothing to hide, is there?”

“Of course not. This way, please,” the doctor said, sighing.

They followed the doctor up another flight of stairs, no one speaking, and then down another long hall. The doctor pulled out a key and unlocked a windowless door. He walked into the room,
with Richard and Christopher, still holding hands, close behind. Carol stood at the doorway.

The room’s walls were white and bare. Not a picture or poster to be found. Only beds. Row after row of bunk beds, with a small dresser between each one. Richard guessed there must have been at least fifty beds, each neatly made.

Christopher let go of his father’s hand. Richard knelt down beside him.

“If you put me here,” Christopher said, “will you come back for me?”

Without saying a word, he picked Christopher up and marched past Dr. Hawkins and Carol, looking dead straight ahead. By the time the doctor locked the door to the sleeping room, Richard and Christopher were almost at the door to the stairway. Carol and the doctor almost had to run to catch up. No one spoke as they descended the stairs, and when they got to the lobby, Richard just went ahead through the front door, still carrying his son.

“We need to talk this through,” Carol said when she caught up to them on the sidewalk.

“We agreed this was a family decision, and this two-thirds of the family vote no.”

“It’s just two days, Richard!”

“Just long enough for Christopher to blend in with the walls. I saw a place like this once when I was a kid.”

“He wouldn’t be there for long.”