could’ve also. Or she could have
heard about it from her brother Peter. He did some family research and filled
her in. If that’s the case, she’s flat out denying being there. But the
alternative is that she really doesn’t remember. Maybe because something
traumatic happened that summer.”
His jaw flexed. “Daddy did something to
her?”
“Like I said, his last poems are grossly
misogynistic. If he abused her, I can see why the trial might kick in the
memories—sex and violence thrown together. One thing’s for sure, she’s
struggling with something major. The recurrent nature of the dream and its
intensity—when she talks about it she actually seems to experience it—she’s trancelike.
Almost as if she’s going into hypnosis by herself. That tells me her ego
boundaries are weakening; this is something potent. So maybe I should’ve been
more careful. But there was no profound depression, no hint she’d do this.”
“What about the other two guys in the
dream?”
“Could be that part’s fantasy, or maybe
what happened to her wasn’t a solo act. And I’ve got another possible
participant. That summer, Lowell had a protégé living with him named Terry
Trafficant. Career criminal, history of attempted rape, assault, manslaughter.
Locked up long-term till Lowell helped him get parole and publish his jail
diary. It became a best-seller.”
“Yeah, yeah, I wasn’t a cop yet, still in
college, but I remember thinking how asinine.”
“So did a lot of other people. The last
cop who arrested him called him a stick of dynamite waiting to go off. There
was a stink about Lowell’s patronage, then Trafficant disappeared. A guy like
that, all those years in confinement, stick him in Topanga Canyon with a cute
little girl running around, who knows.”
He grimaced. “Trafficant’s record include
pedophilia?”
“I don’t remember reading that, but a guy
like him might very well not be repulsed by sex with a little girl.”
“Yeah. The other possibility, Alex, is
that nothing happened directly to her but she saw something. And not even
criminal violence—maybe wild sex, some kind of orgy. A girl and three guys—that
would freak out a four-year-old, right? What if the grinding was exactly what
she first thought it was and her mind ran away with it? Like you said, sex and
violence are all mixed up in her head.”
I thought about that. “It’s sure possible.
The half brother said the kids were at the retreat for the opening. A big party
took place. The papers described it as a pretty wild scene. And in the dream,
Lucy talks about noise and lights the night she leaves the cabin. She could’ve
seen something X-rated.”
“Involving Daddy. He and a couple of
buddies having their way with a girl,” he said. “Not the kind of thing a little
kid could handle easily.”
“And the trial reawakens it.... On the
other hand, what if she did witness violence and that’s why hearing
about Shwandt evoked memories of a crime? Maybe—unconsciously—she was motivated
to be a juror in order to right some kind of wrong. Maybe that’s the toughness
the prosecutors sensed.”
“Possible,” he said.
“Trafficant was an attempted rapist, Milo. And he dropped
out of sight right after the party.”
“On the lam?”
“Why else would he disappear at the height
of his celebrity? All those years behind bars, then he’s a best-seller; it
wouldn’t have made sense to quit unless he had something to hide. He and Lowell—the publicity would have been devastating. So maybe he took the money
and ran. For all we know, he’s on some tropical island living off his
royalties.”
He rubbed his face and contemplated the
table light. “For that to make sense, there would have to be no witnesses,
meaning violence taken all the way.”
“Maybe Lucy actually did witness a burial.
Lowell and Trafficant and someone else getting rid of the body.”
He thought a long time. “It’s a helluva
leap based on a dream. For
heard about it from her brother Peter. He did some family research and filled
her in. If that’s the case, she’s flat out denying being there. But the
alternative is that she really doesn’t remember. Maybe because something
traumatic happened that summer.”
His jaw flexed. “Daddy did something to
her?”
“Like I said, his last poems are grossly
misogynistic. If he abused her, I can see why the trial might kick in the
memories—sex and violence thrown together. One thing’s for sure, she’s
struggling with something major. The recurrent nature of the dream and its
intensity—when she talks about it she actually seems to experience it—she’s trancelike.
Almost as if she’s going into hypnosis by herself. That tells me her ego
boundaries are weakening; this is something potent. So maybe I should’ve been
more careful. But there was no profound depression, no hint she’d do this.”
“What about the other two guys in the
dream?”
“Could be that part’s fantasy, or maybe
what happened to her wasn’t a solo act. And I’ve got another possible
participant. That summer, Lowell had a protégé living with him named Terry
Trafficant. Career criminal, history of attempted rape, assault, manslaughter.
Locked up long-term till Lowell helped him get parole and publish his jail
diary. It became a best-seller.”
“Yeah, yeah, I wasn’t a cop yet, still in
college, but I remember thinking how asinine.”
“So did a lot of other people. The last
cop who arrested him called him a stick of dynamite waiting to go off. There
was a stink about Lowell’s patronage, then Trafficant disappeared. A guy like
that, all those years in confinement, stick him in Topanga Canyon with a cute
little girl running around, who knows.”
He grimaced. “Trafficant’s record include
pedophilia?”
“I don’t remember reading that, but a guy
like him might very well not be repulsed by sex with a little girl.”
“Yeah. The other possibility, Alex, is
that nothing happened directly to her but she saw something. And not even
criminal violence—maybe wild sex, some kind of orgy. A girl and three guys—that
would freak out a four-year-old, right? What if the grinding was exactly what
she first thought it was and her mind ran away with it? Like you said, sex and
violence are all mixed up in her head.”
I thought about that. “It’s sure possible.
The half brother said the kids were at the retreat for the opening. A big party
took place. The papers described it as a pretty wild scene. And in the dream,
Lucy talks about noise and lights the night she leaves the cabin. She could’ve
seen something X-rated.”
“Involving Daddy. He and a couple of
buddies having their way with a girl,” he said. “Not the kind of thing a little
kid could handle easily.”
“And the trial reawakens it.... On the
other hand, what if she did witness violence and that’s why hearing
about Shwandt evoked memories of a crime? Maybe—unconsciously—she was motivated
to be a juror in order to right some kind of wrong. Maybe that’s the toughness
the prosecutors sensed.”
“Possible,” he said.
“Trafficant was an attempted rapist, Milo. And he dropped
out of sight right after the party.”
“On the lam?”
“Why else would he disappear at the height
of his celebrity? All those years behind bars, then he’s a best-seller; it
wouldn’t have made sense to quit unless he had something to hide. He and Lowell—the publicity would have been devastating. So maybe he took the money
and ran. For all we know, he’s on some tropical island living off his
royalties.”
He rubbed his face and contemplated the
table light. “For that to make sense, there would have to be no witnesses,
meaning violence taken all the way.”
“Maybe Lucy actually did witness a burial.
Lowell and Trafficant and someone else getting rid of the body.”
He thought a long time. “It’s a helluva
leap based on a dream. For
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