Caroline had not been able to have a decent conversation with Suzi. Suzi was avoiding her, staying over at Nance’s house, and she’d come back home this evening, only, she informed her mother, to get some clean clothes. In the past Suzi had been something of a home girl—didn’t really like being away from home. So what was up? Suzi clammed up whenever Caroline asked her what was going on. Was she angry at Caroline for something? But Caroline knew better than to get aggressive about asking what was wrong. That would just drive Suzi farther away. She resolved to be patient.

That evening Vic must’ve been working late although he hadn’t called, her father was watching Antiques Roadshow in his lair, and Otis was working at … Wendy’s? Caroline was carrying a basket of clean clothing into Suzi’s room and noticed that the door to Ava’s room was closed and there were voices inside. Suzi was in there, talking to Ava! That in itself was something of a miracle. The two of them used to hang out together in Ava’s room all the time. When they were little they played games with their dolls and stuffed animals, and when they were older they read aloud or made up clubs or businesses or TV shows in which they’d star as two sisters who rescued animals. But lately, when they weren’t fighting, they steered clear of each other. Caroline was so glad they were talking that she nearly swooned. She stepped closer to the door so she could hear what they were saying. She’d never been above snooping, spying, rifling through drawers. Whatever went on in her home was her business.

She heard Suzi say, “He posed me.”

“Naked?” Ava said.

Caroline’s body stiffened. She strained to listen with everything in her being.

“He posed me like this.” Some rustling and thumping noises. “And like this.”

More rustling and thumping. Then the two of them snickered.

“That’s nasty,” Ava said. “Then what?”

Caroline’s hand went to the doorknob and she fought the urge to burst through the door and demand details. She knew she’d find out more if she could make herself stand there and listen as long as she could stand it.

“Then,” Suzi said, “he put his, you know, his thing in my mouth.”

“I’ve never even done that.”

Oh. My. God.

“He wants to see me again,” Suzi said. “He needs me to do this stuff with him because his wife won’t. Don’t you think he’s cute?”

Holy shit. Wife?

“He’s okay,” Ava said.

Silence. Keep talking, Caroline thought. Keep talking, or I’ll beat it out of you.

“He’s so old,” Ava added.

There was some rustling and low talking Caroline couldn’t hear.

Ava said something that sounded like, “Are you going to?”

Suzi spoke a little more loudly. “Nance won’t let me. She said that if I don’t tell she’ll call the police and Paula and make me tell Mom and Dad.”

Paula? Nance? Police? Caroline took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Don’t yell, she told herself. Don’t scare the poor child. But she was shaking so badly she felt like she was going to fly apart.

She opened the door slowly and went in. She must’ve set the laundry basket down, because she wasn’t carrying it anymore. Both girls looked startled but quickly composed themselves. They were both sitting on Ava’s bed.

Caroline opened her mouth and words came out. “I heard what you were saying. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Nothing!” Suzi said, and actually smiled. She scooted backward on the bed and snatched a purple Elvis-head pillow and clutched it to her chest. What poses had she just been doing a minute ago? Caroline was glad she hadn’t seen Suzi do them.

Ava, on the other hand, was sitting up straight and bug-eyed, watching her mother.

Caroline heard how calm her voice sounded and marveled at it. “I heard you say you gave some man …” should she say blow job? “You’re way way too young for that kind of thing. I want to know who it was.”

Now Suzi looked scared. She dug her chin into the pillow she was clutching.

“Honey, tell me who it was,” Caroline said, and then couldn’t help adding. “I can’t believe that you told Mrs. Archer and she didn’t tell me.”

“She wanted to tell you,” Suzi said. “I begged her not to. He’ll get into so much trouble.”

“It’s Buff,” Ava said. “That minister dude.”

“That jerk,” Caroline said, the shock like ice water filling her body.

“Yeah,” Ava said. “Jerk.”

Suzi reached over and gave Ava a shove. “Thanks a lot. That’s the last time I tell you anything.”

“He’s wolfish,” Ava said. “He tried to get me to do it, but I wouldn’t. I told him no. Did I do the right thing, Mom?” Ava wanted to be praised for her good decision, highlighting the contrast between herself and her sister. Every occasion was one for sibling rivalry. How could Caroline even be noticing these things right now?

She walked over and sat down on the foot of Ava’s bed. “You did the right thing,” she told Ava. “But I wished you’d told me. Both of you.”

“It’s too embarrassing,” Ava said.

Suzi’s face looked scary blank. Caroline scooted over and tried to hug Suzi, but she shied away. “I only did it,” Suzi said in a robotic voice, “so he’d leave Ava alone. I did it so she wouldn’t have to.”

“I was never going to,” Ava said. “I’d never do that.”

Shut up, Ava. “I’m so sorry you felt you had to do it,” Caroline said. Understatement of the year. Of the century.

“That’s what I do,” Suzi said. “Do things to make other people feel better.” She sighed and stared up at the poster on Ava’s wall—a black-and-white photo of Elvis on his Harley, taken by Alfred Wertheimer. The quintessential good boy trying to act bad. Was that what Suzi had been doing?

“He probably does that kind of stuff all the time,” Ava said.

“That doesn’t help!” Suzi shrieked and slapped the side of Ava’s head.

“Owwww,” Ava howled.

Caroline, moving quickly, caught Suzi up and held her and kept murmuring that it would be okay, that Suzi wasn’t in trouble, that it wasn’t her fault. But her mind was spinning into the future, toward what she had to do next.

She left the girls in Ava’s room; and on the way out she tripped over the laundry basket, stumbled, and nearly fell, and then wished she’d fallen so she’d have a legitimate excuse to cry. She already had a reason, which wasn’t the same as an excuse. She wanted to cry, to scream, to rant and rave, but she couldn’t make Suzi feel worse than she already did. This was about Suzi, Caroline told herself. Keep the focus on helping Suzi get through this.

In her bedroom she dialed Vic’s cell phone number, but he didn’t pick up. He’d been staying late at work every night. Or at least he always said he was at work, and when he did come home he’d sneak straight down to his computer to check that damn hurricane Web site. Lately all he could talk about was Hurricane Grayson, a category 1 that had come ashore in the Keys that afternoon. She felt a burst of anger toward Vic for not being available. She could follow that train of thought a long way. He was never really available. When it came to her and the kids. Except for Suzi’s soccer. But since he didn’t have soccer anymore, he’d simply disappeared into hurricanes and work.

Gigi! She was probably working with Vic. Ava must have Gigi’s cell phone number, because of the riding lessons. Oh shit. Gigi was Buff’s sister. She dialed Nance’s number.

When Nance answered, Caroline just started talking. “Suzi told me about Buff.”

“I’m sick about it.”

“I bet you are,” Caroline said, allowing a bit of her anger to spill over, even though she knew that Nance wasn’t the right target. She railed at Nance and Nance just listened.

“Call Child Protective Services,” Nance finally suggested.

For some reason this suggestion made Caroline even angrier. “First I’m coming over there to talk to Buff. Are they home?”

“It’s Wednesday night. They’re at church.”

Caroline forced herself to take a breath. “Then I’m going to church. Now. To tell him I know.”

“Can I come with you? I’d like to help any way I can.”

Caroline punched the off button on the phone and wished she had one of those old-fashioned phones that you could hang up by slamming the receiver down, making a point. Fuck you, was the point she wanted to make.

* * *

By the time she got to the Genesis Church, the service was more than half over. She stood in the foyer, with the gleaming terra-cotta tile floors, and peered through a round window in the door that opened into the sanctuary. Sanctuary didn’t feel like the right word for that room. Arena. There was a band set up on the stage, but the spotlight wasn’t on them—it was on some man, evidently the minister, who was up there on the stage preaching, and people in the audience were shouting out “Praise Jesus” and “Amen” and waving their hands in the air. The minister’s voice rose and dipped, rose and dipped. It was mesmerizing. She couldn’t see Buff anywhere. What was his real name? She refused to think of him by that harmless, cuddly nickname. Honey, don’t you trust old Buff?

“Hey there,” said a quiet voice at her elbow. A dark-haired woman, very slight, wearing a long skirt and no shoes, stood beside her. “You’re welcome to go in,” she said. “Lay your troubles on the Lord.”

“Don’t have any troubles.”

The woman smiled and held up her bare foot, bony and supple. “God doesn’t care how you’re dressed.”

Caroline had no idea what she was wearing, so she checked. A tank shirt and an old pair of holey shorts with green deck paint on them. So what. She imagined herself bursting into the sanctuary and making a big scene, but that would be too melodramatic. They’d throw her out and she wouldn’t get to say all she had to say.

“Is Buff in there?” she asked.

“First row on the right.” She pointed. There he was, sitting in a row of men, staring up at the minister but probably planning his next sexual encounter with a minor. Smug bastard.

“What’s his real name?” Caroline asked the woman.

The woman frowned. “Why, Buff is his real name, far as I know.” She flapped her hand, bye-bye, and slipped into the arena.

Caroline stepped back and paced around the foyer, glancing into the Sunday school rooms that opened up off to the side. All these rooms had stages in them as well, miniature versions of the big stage in the big room. In the KidZone she spotted Paula Coffey, Buff’s wife, up front with a guitar, leading a bunch of preschoolers in a song.

Caroline took her phone out and called Vic again and got no answer. This time she left a message, explaining, in a flat, terse voice, what had happened and where she was and why.

Church finally ended with a wild burst of singing and clapping, and then people started filing out. Caroline sat down in a big plush armchair in the corner of the lobby. She’d wait for Buff to come out and she’d surprise him. She imagined the look on his face and squeezed her knees together to keep from flying apart. The smell of popcorn and coffee was making her feel queasy. She wished she had a weapon. Anything sharp would do. Or hard. She imagined smashing a hymnal into his face. She suddenly remembered the face of the teenage boy who lived next door to her family in Iowa City. Artie Finnegan. She’d been only five or six. Had he done something to her? She’d gone into his house with him once but couldn’t remember a thing about it.

She couldn’t sit there any longer. The surge of people leaving had slowed to a trickle and she got up. She walked over and looked through the door and saw Buff standing with his wife, Paula, up front near the stage. How’d Paula get in there? Paula was holding a squirming blond toddler. Angel. Another young couple stood there, talking to them, laughing. Behind them, the band was packing up their instruments. Caroline felt paralyzed for a minute, imagining how Paula was going to feel, but the self-satisfied look on Buff’s face sent her forward, propelled her up the aisle. She stood behind him, her teeth chattering.

She finally had to say, “Excuse me.”

All four adults and the toddler turned to look at her. Everything was happening in slow motion, like the time her car spun off the icy road in Iowa and landed in a ditch. She couldn’t stop that and she couldn’t stop this.

Buff smiled quizzically. Paula just smiled. The toddler stared.

“I’m Suzi Witherspoon’s mother,” she said. “Remember me? Remember Suzi?”

Buff’s mouth opened.

“Soo-see. Soo-see Widderpoon!” Angel said.

“Suzi’s such a great girl,” Paula gushed.

“Yes, she is!” Caroline said heartily, idiotically. Her ears were ringing. She’d never been this angry in her life. “What’s your name?” she asked Buff. “I don’t mean Buff. I mean your real name. Not your nickname.”

“Ah, it’s Buffington. Buffington Coffey.”

“Buffington Coffey! Buffington Coffey!” said Angel.

“Well, Buffington Coffey,” Caroline repeated and then let loose with a string of foul language and accusations and threats that scared the hell out of her.

Paula cowered and she and Angel backed away, and the other couple stepped back, too. Only Buff stood his ground, listening, as if she were reciting Bible verses.

“There’s been some mistake,” he said when she stopped. “Would you like to come back with me to my office? We can talk in private.” Then he addressed his wife. “There’s nothing to this. Suzi’s got some problems.”

“She does now!” Caroline yelled. “After what you did to her.” She went on and on, saying that there was no way in hell she’d go back to his office and did he want to take nasty photos of her and get her to suck his dick, too?

There was quiet after this last outburst, and then she heard a rumbling behind her. It was Vic, growling like a bear, running up the aisle. He tackled Buff, like the football player he’d been in high school, and then started whaling on him, beating the tar out of him, and Caroline was glad, very glad.

Buff didn’t fight back but lay there like he deserved it.