“I knew about that because the superintendent lived in a big mansion on the school grounds and a few of us used to clean his house and make his meals. He helped me out by putting me on that detail and getting me the good teachers. But he was a real sad sack and abusive—I guess his wife had left him, and he never saw his kids. I was sixteen, and I was around his house a lot and he got it into his head that I was interested in him even though I had resisted all his advances. One night he got really drunk, and I was in the library reading—it was the only library in the whole school—and he came down and said he loved me. He was really pathetic, but he got me in a corner, and I don’t like being cornered. I think he said he got the black eye falling in the shower.

“I think Papitano was more embarrassed than mad at me because nothing happened to me. Except he wanted to get me out of there, which was a good thing. In retrospect I don’t think it was for me, but rather so he wasn’t tempted again or whatever his problem was. But his intercession worked by finding me a good and competent caseworker.”

“Sheila Brown,” Rothman said.

“Sheila Brown. She was very persistent, and she went to court, and Child Protective Services agreed to move me to a group home so I could possibly get my high school diploma before I was ‘emancipated’ out of the system. Emancipation, which is a very well chosen word. So I left Eden Falls, thank God. I was happy to leave, but that Papitano guy, the superintendent . . .”

Pia’s voice trailed off and she paused to collect herself. When she resumed she talked very quietly, leaning forward, practically addressing Rothman’s desk.

“You know, I really had grown to trust him. I thought we had a connection. But before I got shipped out, he got drunk again, and he was a big man. He caught me alone in the library again. I’d let my guard down, and he betrayed me.”

Pia stopped talking. They were sitting so still that the motion-detector-operated switch in Rothman’s office doused the lights. The sudden pitch darkness caused both Pia and Rothman to jump. The lights came right back on.

“Jesus, I thought they fixed that,” Rothman said. “Used to happen to me all the time.”

“You must think I have an antisocial personality disorder,” Pia said, regretting saying so much about her violent past. It had been like a dam bursting. “I’ve never really talked about it straight out like this. Not to anyone except maybe Sheila. But with her it wasn’t all at once. It was over time.”