Chapter 1
IT WAS A DARK DEED PERFORMED IN DARKNESS. Of course, Caron Love should not have been alone in the darkness; but she was. She should have taken a cab or at least waited for the bus.
But she was preoccupied, annoyed with herself for not going to six spades on that last hand. Tara's expression of polite disgust when she saw Caron's hand had been embarrassing.
So, at ten minutes to one that morning, Caron was walking boldly down Blueside Avenue, Blueside Park looming silent on one side and totally deserted King's Drive on the other. Only the rhythmic clicking of her heels broke the dead silence.
That the man could come upon her so silently was an even stranger aspect. Later, she felt that, if nothing more, she should have sensed his presence. But she did not. Her first realization of his proximity came with his command:
"Don't scream, lady."
It was an unnecessary order. Caron was frozen. She remained frozen while he expertly wrapped his arms around her, one circling her waist, the other over her mouth. As he dragged her, she began to fight. She struggled against the soft, gloved palm that cut off her screams. She tried to dig her heels into the grass.
But the issue was never in doubt. She would be taken where he wanted her to go and he would do with her as he pleased
And this came about.
When that was over, half an hour later, and she sat naked in the grass sobbing in the weirdly unemotional manner of those who have been abused and are accepting the abuse because there is no way of rejection, she went into the third phase of the terrible adventure.
The first phase had been the accosting. This would always remain somewhat of a blur in her memory. The second phase was the actual attack. This she strove later to explain to Laurel Payne, her only really close friend.
The third phase was a mixing and merging of many emotions: The experience is over. He's gone and I'm still alive and not injured. I am thankjul. Ironically, at the moment, she-likened the experience to a visit to the dentist. The dread upon entering his office. The fear while climbing into the chair. The tenseness. Then the dentist smiling: "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Of course the man in the park hadn't smiled and asked any comforting questions. But the answer, if he had asked, was in her mind-
In comparison to what she'd expected, that hadn't been so bad.
But as she sat there naked and sobbing, these thoughts were but vague impressions flashing through her mind. There were more immediate matters; gathering up her clothing from the various places he'd put them and digging the knots out of her dress.
Then there was the going home; walking into the apartment; facing Frank.
The shameful confession:
"I walked home from Grace's. Along the park. A man dragged me in among the trees. Frank was raped.'"
The letting go. The collapse into his arms. Frank's face above her as she lay on the bed. Its mixture of concern and savageness reflecting both his love for her and his battle with his own ripping emotions.
And then blessed sleep, but with the shameful, unbidden thought preceding:
Why did I walk in and crack up? That wasn't a terrible thing. That wasn't much different, really, than being in bed with Frank.
Why did I even tell him?
But she had told him.
The next morning, she regretted telling him even more, not because she'd wanted to hide anything from Frank, but because in telling him she lost control of the situation.
She wanted, that morning upon awakening, to lie back and calmly consider the situation; where the attack left her; to lay out for herself, a sensible procedure.
But they were both in it now and she was forced to debate with Frank.
"Darling please, not the police."
This angered him. "Caron! Are you out of your mind? Do you think I'll let a man drag you into the park and rape you and get away?"
"But the publicity! The shame!"
"The hell with that! Are we decent citizens or not? Are we going to let this degenerate hit another woman, and another, just because we're too chicken-hearted to say anything?"
"I'm well aware of our civic duty, and my answer should be, "No, we're not,' but I can't give you that answer. I'm afraid. And I'd think you would be, too. Think of the people at your office; you're with them all day and they'll look at you and you'll know what they're thinking."
Frank was determined man with a straight jawline advertising that determination. "I'm willing to face that. They're adults too, and they'll sympathize with us."
"Yes, your real friends, but what about the others? The nasty-minded ones, darling? They'll smirk behind their hands and make their jokes. They'll imply that this wasn't rape. They'll...."
"Caron!"
"I'm sorry, but that's the way I feel." Tears came again and as he stood glaring at her she reached to touch him, putting entreaty into the gesture. "Frank, please understand. I was the one who was raped! Not you!"
He turned away and stood looking out the window. "I think that was unfair. You're implying I have no regard for your feelings and it's not true. You know it's not true."
"Of course, but...."
She could find no more words; But actually, this made little difference. Words would not help her. Just as the man in the park had had his way with her, Frank would also have his way.
It struck her, wildly, at that moment that this realization somehow defined what she was and what she had always been. All during her life, someone had had his way with her.
Her father, with a jaw greatly like Frank's. He had always told her what to do and how to do it. After her father's death, Uncle William had had his way in shaping her to his ideas of what she should be.
Silence fell between them there in the bedroom, Frank grimly waiting, as always, for Caron to agree that he was right.
Muted by her own misery, she struggled with the silence and then gave aimless voice to her mind.
"I sat there in that terrible darkness, glad that I was still alive. I was thankful that I hadn't been mutilated."
Frank whirled. "Are you telling me you were actually grateful to that slinking degenerate? You were thanking him for not killing you?"
Hysteria came close to the surface. "I don't know! I don't know! Perhaps I was! While I sat there trying to take the knots out of my dress."
The affect of that on Frank was plain. He stiffened visibly and then walked slowly toward the bed, his whole being obviously jarred.
"What did you say?'
"While I was sitting there, I thought...."
He gestured impatiently. "No, no. You said something else, about your dress."
"When he took my clothes off, he tied a lot of knots in my dress."
"Wasn't that pretty silly thing to do?"
The question itself was not as strange as Frank's manner in asking it. He was such a iron-willed man that Caron couldn't help seeing the change in him. It was as though he was pleading for reassurance-demanding that the attacker had done something illogical by tying knots in her dress.
But Frank didn't wait for her answer. He turned back to the window, hiding his face, and the silence again descended.
When he returned to stand beside her and look down into her face, there had been another change. He had softened. He laid a gentle hand on her head.
"I do understand, honey. You would have to bear the brunt of exposure. I can't agree it's the right thing to do, but at least I'll think it over. We don't have to decide this very minute to leave the police out of it. I do understand."
He went to the closet door and took a necktie off the rack. He pulled it around his neck. Without looking at her, he asked, "Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm quite all right."
Then, his effort at casualness was almost painful. He went to the mirror and worked at a four-in-hand knot as though it were the day's most difficult and important task.
"You'll drop around and see Doctor Peel?"
"Yes." Sensing his pain, she tried to help him. "I have a physical coming up, a routine physical."
"I was just thinking..."
"What, darling?"
"About old Doc Spencer. He isn't so far away. Two hours on the train."
Old Doc Spencer had been Caron's family physician. He'd tended her as a child and a growing girl. He still practiced in Ludlow, two hours out from the city. But when she married Frank, they'd gotten a younger, local doctor here in town.
Doctor Peel. In his middle thirties. A good man, but young and handsome. Doc Spencer, old and plodding and understanding.
Caron saw the hurt behind Frank's words and she warmed to him. "I would like to see Doc. It's been quite a while. I'll arrange to run up to Ludlow tomorrow."
He turned brusquely. "I'll get to work. I might as well. You rest today. Try to sleep."
"I will."
He bent to kiss her with all the tenderness he was capable of. It wasn't much but that didn't reflect on Frank. His armor against sentimentality had always been thick.
Alone, Caron lay totally relaxed in body, but with her mind struggling. She wanted to talk to someone she could confide in. There were things to get off her chest.
So she thought of the only person in her life who met the necessary specifications.
Laurel Payne.
But should she talk to even Laurel in this situation? Would it be fair to Frank? She struggled with the problem and decided it would be all right, because what she told Laurel would remain confidential. No worry on that score.
And her need was very great
Eventually, she picked up the phone and dialed. When she put it down she was truly relaxed. Laurel would be over in half an hour.
Laurel Payne, tall blonde, exquisitely beautiful and magnetically sophisticated, had been Laurel Turner. A college friend, she'd met Jim Paynn through Caron, there in the city, after Caron married Frank Lovell.
Jim and Frank had grown up together in Winston, a town some ten miles from Caron's native Ludlow. Both towns were on the perimeters of the city where so many young people came in search of opportunities the small towns did not afford.
There were many of their own generation whom Frank and Caron knew in the city; young men and worn-men who had come there in pursuit of opportunity. There were Mike and Grace Bevins, who traveled in the same circle. There was Tom Weathers, who married Alice Vance, a city girl Caron had never really liked very well, but who was also in the immediate circle.
Others of the old teen-age crowd were around, but they had formed other groups.
Then too, there were the ones who had disappeared but who were still wondered about and commented on at times. Clete Watts was reputed to have gone with the CIA and was thus a thrilling mystery figure to be mentioned with pride. Also, the dramatic and star-crossed Windsor trip, Lee and Carl, the twins, and Barbara, their beautiful sister.
Of course, the Windsors had never really mixed with the crowd. Not that they were purposely aloof. They just didn't seem to fit easily. There was an aura of glamour about them, and their tragedy somehow added to this. Caron had always thought of Barbara as the most beautiful girl she'd ever seen. A lovely fragile blonde, Caron always remembered Barbara as floating instead of walking.
Lying there in bed, waiting for Laurel, Caron thought it strange that she should be remembering the Windsors, picking them out of her recollections. Of course, the drama involved made them excellent subjects for recollection.
Orphaned at an early age, the three Windsor children had been left a great deal of money and were under the guardianship of two mysterious uncles. They lived on what was actually an estate when compared with the other homes in and around Ludlow. A huge lawn separated it from the local world and the uncles separated themselves even more definitely. They entertained friends from the city and did not mix locally at all. Involved in some sort of wholesale jewelry business, they were always called "the diamond family," by way of local identification. The name Windsor was seldom used.
The uncles, however, did not extend their aloofness to their wards. The twins and Barbara attended public schools and were allowed to mix with the natives so long as they didn't bring them past the big lawn. They never really joined in because they could not reciprocate in the realm of hospitality.
Also, Barbara was considered snobbish by the other girls teen-agers being too young to realize that her remoteness was merely a defense against a situation she could do nothing about.
Then came the accident. One night, quite late, the three of them were coming home from somewhere and their sports car crashed into the high stone wall bordering Peterson's apple orchard west of Ludlow.
Rumor had been flying at school the next day but eventually certain facts became known. Carl was killed. Lee was frightfully mutilated. Barbara came off well, physically, but the shock incapacitated her mentally and emotionally, at least for a time.
And that was the end of the Windsor saga so far as the local people eve' knew The diamond family vanished almost overnight. They left no forwarding address.
Caron often wondered after that, what had happened to them. It was a little like not getting the last installment of a magazine serial.
But what she always remembered was Barbara's shimmering beauty. She always thought her own dark, warm attractiveness was shabby in comparison.
As she lay there, her mind drifted to Clete Watts. The CIA thing had been merely a rumor. Later, she'd heard that he'd been seen by someone at the big electronics factory just at the edge of the city That, too, might have beev an inaccuracy
Still waiting for the sound of the doorbell, she paused in her recollections to wonder about them. Under the circumstances, her mind should have been rooted in the present. Why was it wandering back among old ghosts? Then the bell sounded and she got up to answer it.
"You poor darling"
This was Laurel's exclamation of sympathy after Caron had poured out the story of her nightmare.
Laurel was remotely gorgeous as usual. She was perfectly groomed. Caron had never seen her otherwise. And as she sat there on the edge of the bed, it occurred to Caron that Laurel might have been the subconscious reason for her own meanderings into the past. Laurel's beauty was so like Barbara Windsor's. This was only a fleeing thought, pushed away by her compulsive need to talk.
"You're all right now, though?" Laurel asked. "Yes. I'm not injured."
"You told Frank."
"Yes."
"What was his reaction?"
"First, to rush right to the police. Then I think I changed his mind."
"You don't want to go to the police."
"I can't face the publicity, Laurel."
Laurel extended a quick hand. She was such a comfort. Nothing maudlin about Laurel. She was sharp and practical and as some of her not-quite-so close friends said, a little too broad-minded and sophisticated for her own good. At times, many thought she bordered on the vulgar.
But Caron knew better Laurel was a rock, and a girl couldn't have a finer or more sincere friend.
And so very wise and perceptive.
She demonstrated this wisdom and perception a few minutes later as she noted the trend of the conversation?
"Darling, are you sure you want to talk about this? The actual details, I mean? Perhaps it's better if you start forgetting them right away."
"No, I want to talk because everything was so strange." Caron smiled, and the smile made her look like a little girl in bed with a cold. "There was nothing at all like what I'd imagined getting raped would be like."
Laurels regal blue eyes seemed to darken. "I suppose every woman ever born has thought of being taken violently at one time or another.'
"I remember thinking about that as soon as I found out about men."
"Psychologists say there is a great deal of fascination in the idea for a lot of women. Do you remember what Alice Weathers said that night at bridge? The night she'd had 't little too much to drink?"
"Yes. She said that if she could be sure of not being injured, she'd like to be raped as an experience."
"She was joking-, of course, or thought she was. But there was probably more behind her words than martinis."
Caron's eyes grew vague "This man appeared from nowhere, actually from nowhere. My first inkling of his presence was when he grabbed me."
"You must have been sick with fright."
"I think I was more stunned. Then he was pulling me into the park. I dragged along on my heels."
"You couldn't scream?"
"He had a hand over my mouth. Then, when he got me into the park, I was afraid to. I was afraid of what he might do to me before help came."
"I can understand that."
"And yet, except when he was actually at that time, and later, he wasn't violent at all. He was almost gentle."
"I wonder how accurate your recollections really are?"
"Very accurate, I think. He got me into the park and said, 'I'm sorry, but you must undress.' And that was when everything became so terribly weird."
"He didn't tear your clothes off while you were struggling with him?"
"I didn't struggle with him., After he told me to undress, I stood there for a moment, staring at him, cringing, I guess. He took a step closer and extended his hands and said, 'Here, I'll help you.' And he began unbuttoning my dress."
"You were wise not to fight him. You may have saved your life by keeping your head."
Caron passed a hand over her forehead as though trying to dispel a fog. "But I wasn't frightened. At least I don't think I was. There was his manner. And there was some light there, so I could see his face. There was no lewdness or lust ot anger in it. Almost a sadness."
"Mental instability has strange ways of reflecting, I guess."
Caron looked at her friend beseechingly. "Laurel, I think I actually felt sorry for him."
Laurel shrugged briefly. "And a victim's defense mechanism under such circumstances can also take strange shapes."
Caron's eyes again went distant. "I stood there and he undressed me, garment by garment, and then the really strange part happened."
Laurel waited. "Well, honey don't stop now. You've got me interested."
"He put my dress on the ground then my garter belt and each stocking one at a time He went to one knee with my stockings and put a hand on his shoulder to balance myself '
Emotion began showing through Caron raised her head to look starkly at her friend. "Laurel! I didn't fight! I just stood there. Why didn't I fight?"
Laurel reached out and laid a hand on Caron's shoulder. "Honey, take it easy"
"I didn't want to be raped, did I."
"Of course not."
"Then why?"
"Baby, look at things this way. If you were a mental patient under analysis, you could ask your psychiatrist that question. And he'd have a logical answer for you. But you aren't. You're a perfectly competent young woman who never had any emotional problems, so don't start making them for yourself."
"Why wasn't I frightened?'
"Maybe you were. How can you be sure you weren't just because you acted sensibly and gave him no reason to hurt you?"
"Anyhow, he undressed me. He put each garment in a different place, almost as though he were laying out a diagram of some sort. Weird. As though placing the clothes correctly was important. Then, while I stood there naked, he very carefully tied three knots in my dress."
Laurel stared, and Caron as though making her believe this was vitally important, said, "You know. You remember what the boys used to tell about? How they'd tie each other's clothes when they went in swimming?"
"Yes, I remember."
"Well, that's how he was. Then, when he had my dress tied in knots, he dropped on the ground and took me."
"You poor kid."
"There was no viciousness then, either. At first, Laurel, I'm sure he would rather have not done that."
There "was frank disbelief in Laurel's expression now. "Honey, I think you reached for that one."
"But that's how he acted."
"You still didn't fight him?"
"No."
"Darling, that was sensible."
"Sensible, nothing! I was petrified. His indifference vanished quickly and there was passion. And then..."
"Caron, what are you trying to say?"
"I'm trying to tell the truth. Somehow, I feel I've got to tell someone exactly what happened."
"All right, baby. I'm your someone. Tell me, exactly."
"Laurel " There was a stricken note in Caron's voice. "I think we both forgot where we were and who we were."
Laurel smiled as though things had become clear. "Honey, you had me puzzled for a while. I couldn't figure out why you had a compulsion to protect this man. To excuse him and make allowances for him."
"What do you mean?'
"You, feel guilty. You think you're been untrue to Frank because . . " Laurel leaned closer and took Caron's hand " ... because, honey, you liked him."
"Laurel! You're wrong! I didn't!"
"Let's be realistic. He was no doubt an attractive man. He took you into the park and you expected him to hurt you. But he didn't Sc you were grateful. You were relieved. And in your life.. " Seeing unspoken denial in Caron's face, Laurel paused, but went on. "Caron, I'm no psychologist. But what I'm telling you is obvious from what you've told me. You feel you were untrue to Frank because you liked being raped. But that's ridiculous. The man was a good lover. Isn't that the honest truth?"
"A better lover than Frank. Isn't that true."
"No! No!"
"All right. Different. A novelty. Sweetie, you'd be surprised how many women love their husbands and remain faithful but still wonder how an exciting interlude with another man would be."
Caron looked miserable and confused.
"Look at things this way, baby. What happened, you couldn't have prevented from happening, so where's your guilt? You've had an experience a lot of women would envy you for. So forget about the whole thing."
"But the man was so oh, I don't know. Laurel. When that was ever he looked at me and said, 'I'm sorry I can't help you. I'd like to, but it's impossible.' Then he went away."
"A real kook from the beginning to end. Forget this, baby."
"I'll try."
"Nobody knows about this except you and Frank and I?"
"That's right. And the man."
"We can charge him off. I don't think he'll complicate your life any further. Now for heaven's sake don't tell Frank you talked to me. He'd go through the ceiling."
"I won't."
"And take comfort in the fact that you won't have your so-called iriends rallying around licking their chops while they sympathize with you."
"It was as though I knew him from somewhere," Caron murmured.
"You didn't hear a word I said."
"Oh, yes I did. Laurel, you're wonderful for being so understanding."
Laurel smiled, obviously determined to lighten the mood of the conversation. "You know something, honey? I kind of envy you. I think tonight I'll walk past that park myself."
"Laurel, don't laugh at me!"
"I'm sorry, honey. But I'm not laughing, not really. I'm just telling you that you were lucky and I do mean that. I'm telling you to pui this out of your mind."
"I'm going to Ludlow tomorrow."
"I've got to run, baby," Laurel cut in. "I've got a hair appointment " She no doubt divined why Caron was going back to the home town, but perhaps felt confidences had been carried far enough. "Thanks for coming."
"Forget it. And why don't you get out of that bed now and do something constructive, like getting dressed?"
After Laurel! left, Caron took her advice. And she felt much better.