Rina’s eyes moistened. “The man who was responsible for the rape in my community… he molested my children… my younger son in particular. Ten years later and my son’s still suffering. I only found out about it a year ago. You can imagine my guilt.”

“Does your son hold it against you?”

“No, not at all. Do you hold it against your mother?”

“No.”

“My son tries to protect me. My poor baby.”

“How is he suffering?”

She stared into space. “Maybe suffering is too strong a word.”

But Donatti knew it wasn’t.

Rina said, “He’s better now. But he had some drug problems, probably acted out sexually, although he’d never tell me that.” She stopped, trying to rein in her feelings. “He’s so brilliant, Christopher. Brilliant and popular with boys as well as girls. He’s absolutely gorgeous. The girls just love him.” She studied Donatti’s face. “Maybe that’s not such a good thing.”

“It’s a double-edged sword.” Donatti paused. “Your son… does he look like you?”

Rina didn’t answer.

Donatti said, “Could be it was like Joey. That the bastard wanted you, but he took your son instead.” He laughed. “Bet you never thought we’d have anything in common, Mrs. Decker. What happened to him? The unnamed molester.”

“He spent time in prison. He’s been out on parole for three years.”

“Where is he now?”

“Somewhere in the Midwest.”

“Somewhere in the Midwest, huh?” Donatti laughed. “You’ve probably memorized his address, his phone number, and everything about him, including how many times a day he pees.”

“Two-one-five Kingsley Avenue, Medford, Indiana. And yes, I do know his phone number, as well as where he works, and what car he drives, and which church he attends. However, I don’t know how many times a day he goes to the bathroom.”

He smiled. “Okay. Now I know you’re for real. Has he bothered you?”

“No, he has not. But I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my son’s problems began around the same time he was released. Hold still, please.”

Rina continued on, grateful for his silence as she cleansed, swabbed, and dressed his sores. He managed to keep from squirming, even though she knew the procedures had to hurt. His eyes were wet with pain, but she wondered how much of it was physical discomfort, how much was emotional remnants of what he had just confessed. When she was done, she stood up. “You want me to put your shirt back on?”

“No thanks, Mrs. Decker, the thought of anything touching my skin raises my hackles.”

“I suppose this is the part where I thank you for saving my life.”

“Want to pay me back?”

“No sexual comments, please.”

“None. I’d like to draw you.”

“No.”

“I’ll behave both on the paper and off the paper. Nothing you wouldn’t like or approve of. Nothing you couldn’t show in public.”

“No.”

“You know, you’re in my place. I was gracious enough to talk to you. Not to mention the fact that I prevented your children from being motherless.”