The Tenth Circle

Her father had been gone for three minutes when she started to actively panic. It didn?t take much longer than that to buy some stupid cheese, did it? What if someone else came to this parking lot and saw her sitting there? How long before a crowd gathered, calling her a slut and a whore? Who would save her if they decided to pound on the windows, start a witch hunt, lynch her?

  She peered out the windshield. It would take fifteen seconds, tops, to make it to the door of the grocery store. By now her father would be in line. She might run into someone she knew there, but at least she wouldn?t be alone.

  Trixie got out of the car and started to race across the parking lot. She could see the buttery windows of the grocery mart and the line of wire shopping carts shivering against its outer wall.

  Someone was coming. She couldn?t see whether it was her father-the figure seemed big enough, but the streetlamp was behind him, obscuring the features. If it was her father, he?d see her first, Trixie realized. And if it wasn?t her father, then she was going to move past the stranger at the speed of light.

  But as Trixie broke into a sprint, she hit a patch of black ice and her feet gave out from underneath her. One leg twisted, and she could feel herself falling. The moment before her left hip struck the pavement, she was wrenched upright by the very person she?d been trying to avoid. ?You okay?? he said, and she looked up to find Jason holding her upper arm.

  He let go almost as quickly as he?d grabbed her. Trixie?s mother had said that Jason couldn?t come near her, couldn?t cross paths with her-if he did, he?d be shipped off to a juvenile detention center before the trial. But either her mother had been wrong or Jason had forgotten, because he shook off whatever fear had made him release her and began advancing on her instead. He smelled like a distillery, and his voice was raw. ?What did you tell them? What are you trying to do to me??

  Trixie fought for breath. The cold was seeping through the back of her jeans and there was water in her boot where it had gone through the ice into a puddle. ?I didn?t?I?m not??

  ?You have to tell them the truth,? Jason begged. ?They don?t believe me.?

  This was news to Trixie and cut clean as a knife through her fear. If they didn?t believe Jason, and they didn?t believe her, who did they believe?

  He crouched in front of her, and that was all it took for Trixie to be whipped back to then. It was as if the rape was happening all over again, as if she couldn?t control a single inch of her own body.

  ?Trixie,? Jason said.

  His hands on her thighs, as she tried to pull away.

  ?You have to.?

  His body rising over hers, pinning her at the hips.

  ?Now.?

  Now, he had said, throwing his head back as he pulled out and spilled hot across her belly. Now, he had said, but by then it was already too late.

  Trixie drew in a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs.

  Suddenly Jason wasn?t leaning over her anymore. Trixie glanced up to see him wrestling, trying to dodge her father?s punches. ?Daddy!? she screamed. ?Stop!?

  Her father turned, bleeding from a split lip. ?Trixie, get in the car.?

  She didn?t get in the car. She scrambled away from their brawl and stood in the halo of the streetlamp, watching as her father-the same man who caught the spiders in her bedroom and carried them outside in a Dixie cup, the same man who had never in his life spanked her-pummeled Jason. She was horrified and fascinated all at once. It was like meeting someone she?d never seen before and finding out that all this time, he?d been living next door.

  The sound of flesh smacking flesh reminded Trixie of the blue-fish that got slapped hard against the docks in Portland by the fishermen, to still them before they were filleted. She covered her ears and looked down at the ground, at the plastic bag of shredded mozzarella that had fallen and been torn open under their boots during the fight.

  ?If you ever,? her father panted, ?ever??

  He landed a punch to Jason?s gut.

  ??ever come near my daughter again??

  A blow across the right jaw.

  ?I will kill you.? But just as he reared back his hand to strike again, a car drove past the parking lot, illuminating everything.

  The last man Daniel had beaten up had already been dead. In the high school gym in Akiak, Daniel had slammed Cane against the floor, although his head already had a bullet hole in it. He?d done it because he wanted Cane to tell him to stop. He?d wanted Cane to sit up and take a swing back at him.

  The principal had tiptoed gingerly into this nightmare, absorbing Daniel?s sobs and the discarded rifle and the blood sprayed across the bleachers. Daniel, the principal had said, shocked. What did you do?

  Daniel had run, because he was faster than the principal and faster than the police. For a few days he was a murder suspect, and he liked that. If Daniel had meant to kill Cane, then he couldn?t feel as guilty about not keeping it from happening.

  By the time he left town, the rumors surrounding Daniel had died down. Everyone knew it was Cane?s hunting rifle, and Daniel?s fingerprints hadn?t been on it. Cane had not left a suicide note-that was rare, in the village-but he?d left his basketball jersey on the table for his little sister. Daniel had been cleared as a suspect, but he left Alaska anyway. It wasn?t that he?d been scared of his future; it was that he couldn?t see one, period.

  Every now and then, he still woke up with one thought caught like cotton on the roof of his mouth: Dead men don?t bruise.

  Tonight, he?d been stuck behind an old woman paying with pennies at the grocery mart. The whole time, he was second-guessing himself. At first, after the suicide attempt, Trixie had been distant and silent, but over the past few days her personality would bob to the surface every now and then. However, the minute they?d reached town, Trixie had gone still and blank-a relapse. Daniel hadn?t wanted to leave her alone in the car but couldn?t stand the thought of forcing her to leave that safety zone either. How long could it take to buy a single item? He?d hurried into the store, thinking only of Trixie and getting her back home as quickly as possible.

  It was when he?d stepped under the streetlamp that he?d seen it: that bastard?s hand on his daughter?s arm.

  For someone who has never given himself over to rage, it would be hard to understand. But for Daniel, it felt like shrugging on an old, soft suede coat that had been buried so deep in his closet he was certain it had long ago been given away to someone else who needed the cover. Lucid thought gave way to utter feeling. His body started to burn; his own anger buzzed in his ears. He saw through a crimson haze, he tasted his own blood, and still he knew he could not stop. As he gloried in the scrape of his knuckles and the adrenaline that kept him one step ahead, Daniel began to remember who he used to be.

  Every brawl with a bully in Akiak, every fistfight with a drunk outside a bar, every window he?d smashed to get inside a locked door-it was as if Daniel had stepped completely outside his body and was watching the tornado that had taken up residence there instead. In the ferocity, he lost himself, which was what he?d hoped for all along.

  By the time he was finished, Jason was shaking so hard that Daniel knew only his own hand at the boy?s throat was keeping him upright. ?If you ever?ever come near my daughter again,? Daniel said, ?I will kill you.?

  He stared at Jason, trying to commit to memory the way the boy looked when he knew he was defeated, because Daniel wanted to see it on his face again on the day they handed down a verdict in the courtroom. He drew back his arm, focusing his sights on the spot just under the boy?s jaw-the spot where a good, strong blow would knock him unconscious-when suddenly the high beams of an oncoming car washed over him.

  It was the opportunity Jason needed to throw Daniel off balance. He pushed away and took off at a dead run. Daniel blinked, his concentration shattered. Now that it was over, he could not stop his hands from trembling. He turned to the truck, where he?d told Trixie to wait, and he opened the door. ?I?m sorry you had to see-? Daniel said,
breaking off as he realized his daughter wasn?t there.

  ?Trixie!? he yelled, searching the parking lot. ?Trixie, where are you??

  It was too goddamned dark-Daniel couldn?t see-so he started running up and down the aisles among the cars. Could Trixie have been so upset, watching him turn into an animal, that she?d been willing to jump from the frying pan into the fire, to get as far away from him as possible, even if that meant she?d have to run into town?

  Daniel started sprinting down Main Street, calling for her. Frantic passed for festive in the dark. He pushed aside knots of carolers and divided families joined together at the hands. He barreled into a table with a sugar-on-snow display, kids rolling long strings of candied maple syrup around popsicle sticks. He climbed onto a sidewalk bench so that he could tower over the milling crowd and look around.

  There were hundreds of people, and Trixie wasn?t one of them.

  He headed back to his car. It was possible that she had gone home, although it would take her a while to cover the four-mile distance on foot, in the snow. He could take his truck and start searching?but what if she hadn?t left town? What if she came back looking for him, and he wasn?t here?

  Then again, what if she?d started home, and Jason found her first?

  He reached into the glove compartment and fumbled for his cell phone. No one answered at the house. After a hesitation, he called Laura?s office.

  Last time he?d done this, she hadn?t answered.

  When she picked up on the first ring, Daniel?s knees buckled with relief. ?Trixie?s missing.?

  ?What?? He could hear the bright blue edge of panic in Laura?s voice.

  ?We?re in town?she was in the car waiting?? He was not making any sense, and he knew it.

  ?Where are you??

  ?In the lot behind the grocery store.?

  ?I?m on my way.?

  When the line went dead, Daniel slipped the phone into his coat pocket. Maybe Trixie would try to call him. He stood up and tried to replay the fight with Jason, but he could not dissect it: It could have been three minutes, it could have been thirty. Trixie might have run off at the first punch or after the last. He had been so single-minded about wanting to do harm that he?d lost sight of his daughter while she was still standing in front of him.

  ?Please,? he whispered to a God he?d given up on years ago. ?Please let her be all right.?

  Suddenly a movement in the distance caught his eye. He turned to see a shadow crossing behind the brush at the far end of the parking lot. Daniel stepped out of the circle of light thrown by the streetlamp and walked toward the spot where he?d seen the dark overlap itself. ?Trixie,? he called. ?Is that you??

  Jason Underhill stood with his hands braced on the wooden railing of the trestle bridge, trying to see if the river had completely iced over yet. His face hurt like hell from where Trixie?s father had beaten the crap out of him, his ribs throbbed, and he didn?t have any idea how he was going to explain his battered face in the morning without revealing that he?d broken the conditions of his bail and interacted with not one but two members of the Stone family.

  If they were going to try him as an adult, did that affect the rest? Once they found out that he?d approached Trixie, would he get sent to a real jail, instead of just some juvy facility?

  Maybe it didn?t matter, anyway. Bethel Academy didn?t want him to play next year. His hopes to go professional one day were as good as dead. And why? Because he?d been considerate that night at Zephyr Santorelli-Weinstein?s house and had gone back to make sure that Trixie was all right.

  Three weeks ago, he had been the number one ranked high school hockey player in the state of Maine. He had a 3.7 grade point average and a penchant for hat tricks, and even kids who didn?t know him pretended they did. He could have had his pick of high school girls and maybe even some from the local college, but he?d been stupid enough to fall for Trixie Stone: a human black hole who camouflaged herself as a girl with a heart so clear you might look at it and see yourself.

  He was seventeen, and his life was as good as over.

  Jason stared at the ice beneath the bridge. If his trial started before the spring came?if he lost?how long would it be before he saw the river running again?

  He leaned down, his elbows on the wooden railing, and pretended that he could see it now.

  Daniel was sitting underneath the streetlamp when Laura came running up to him. ?Did she come back??

  ?No,? he said, getting slowly to his feet. ?And she?s not answering, if she?s at the house.?

  ?Okay,? Laura said, pacing in a tight circle. ?Okay.?

  ?It?s not okay. I got into a fight with Jason Underhill. He had his hands on her. And I?I?I snapped. I beat him up, Laura. Trixie saw every minute of it.? Daniel took a deep breath. ?Maybe we should call Bartholemew.?

  Laura shook her head. ?If you call the police, you have to tell them you were fighting with Jason,? she said flatly. ?That?s assault, Daniel. People get arrested for it.?

  Daniel fell silent, thinking of his previous encounter with Jason-the one in the woods, with a knife. As far as he knew, the boy hadn?t said anything to anyone about it. But if it came out that Daniel had beaten him up, that other incident was bound to surface.

  And it wasn?t just assault-it qualified as kidnapping, too.

  He turned to Laura. ?So what do we do??

  She stepped closer, the light from the lamp falling over her shoulders like a cloak. ?We find her ourselves,? she said.

  Laura ran into the house, calling for Trixie, but there was no answer. Shaking, she walked into the dark kitchen, still wearing her coat. She turned on the tap and splashed cold water on her face.

  This couldn?t have happened.

  She and Daniel had plotted a strategy: He would search the streets for Trixie, while Laura went home in case she showed up. You need to calm down, she told herself. This is all going to work out.

  When the phone rang, she grabbed it. Trixie. But in the moment it took for her to bring the receiver to her ear, she had another thought-what if it was the police?

  Laura swallowed. ?Hello??

  ?Mrs. Stone?this is Zephyr. Is Trixie there? I?ve got to talk to her.?

  ?Zephyr,? she repeated. ?No. Trixie?s not-Have you seen her tonight??

  ?Me? Um. No.?

  ?Well.? Laura closed her eyes. ?I?ll tell her you called,? she said. She hung up the phone, sat down at the kitchen table, and steeled herself to wait for whatever came next.

  Every summer, traveling fairs came through Maine. They arrived in caravans that popped open to reveal the baseball throw, the ringtoss, the balloon darts. A massive white truck unfolded, like a sleeping deer getting to its feet, to turn into the Tilt-A-Whirl; another transformed into the Indiana Jones Adventure House. There were kiddie rides-hot-air balloons that never left the ground, giant frogs with pink plaster tongues that chased flies in small circles, a carousel fit for a princess. But the ride Trixie looked forward to, year after year, was the Dragon Coaster.

  The roller coaster had the enormous painted head of a Chinese New Year?s dragon, five cars, and then an arched tail with gold curlicues painted on it. It mutated from one of those folding trucks: a tight loop of steel track that swung into a waystation. The carney who ran the coaster had a long, thin ponytail and so many tattoos on his arms that you had to get close to see they weren?t just sleeves.

  Trixie always tried to get the first car, the one that put you behind the dragon?s mouth. For a kiddie ride, the roller coaster was surprisingly fast, and the front car was quicker than any other-you whipped harder around the corners. You lurched to a more jarring stop.

  The summer Trixie was eleven, she climbed into the front car as usual and realized something was wrong. She couldn?t pull the safety bar down over her knees. She had to turn sideways and jam herself along the side of the car. Trixie was convinced that this wasn?t the same roller coaster-that they?d gotten an upgrade and skimped on the propor
tions-but the carney said nothing had changed.

  He was lying. She knew this, because even as he said it, and pushed his ponytail out of the way, he was staring at the writing on her T-shirt: BETHEL FARM ?A? SOFTBALL scrawled across her chest.

  Until that moment, Trixie had been looking forward to going to middle school and the privileges that came with it. She?d held the word adolescent on her tongue, enjoying the way it fizzed like a bath bomb. Until then, she hadn?t considered that there was a tradeoff, that she might not fit anymore in places where she?d been comfortable.

  The next summer, when Trixie was twelve, she got dropped off at the fair with Zephyr. Instead of going on the rides, they bought an onion blossom and trolled through the crowd to find kids they knew.

  Trixie was thinking about all this as she stood, shivering, in front of the Bank of Bethel. It was midnight, now, and the Winterfest was a memory. The police barriers blocking Main Street had been removed; the Christmas lights had been unplugged. The trash cans were stuffed with paper cups, plastic cider jugs, and broken candy canes.

  The bank had a large mirrored window that had always fascinated Trixie. These days, when she passed by, she?d check herself out, or look to see if anyone else was doing the same. But as a kid, the mirror had taken her by surprise. For years she kept the secret from her parents that there was a girl in Bethel who looked exactly like her.

  In the reflection, Trixie watched her father approach. She looked at him or, really, at the twin of him, standing beside the twin of her. The moment he touched her, it was as if a spell had broken. She could barely stand on her feet, she was that tired.

  He caught her as she swayed. ?Let?s go home,? he said, and he lifted her into his arms.

  Trixie rested her head on his shoulder. She watched the stars shimmer and wink in patterns, an alphabet everyone else seemed to know but that she could not for the life of her read.

  Laura?s car was in the driveway when Daniel came back. That had been the plan: She?d drive back home and wait in the house, in case Trixie had made her way home. Daniel would walk the streets of Bethel, in case she hadn?t. Trixie was sound asleep when he carried her out of the truck and brought her up to her bedroom. There, he unlaced her boots and unzipped her parka. He thought for a moment about helping her into pajamas but instead drew the covers up over Trixie, fully clothed.

  When he stood up, Laura was standing in the doorway. Seeing Trixie, her eyes were wide, her face as white as chalk. ?Oh, Daniel,? she whispered, guessing the worst. ?Something happened.?