Fool Me Once(88)

“How so?”

“He wasn’t a threat to me. I was a midfielder. He wasn’t a threat to his roommate and best friend, Andrew. Andrew was a goalie.”

Swain stopped and looked at Maya.

“But Joe was a striker too,” she said.

Swain nodded. “I’m not saying he was openly hostile to Theo, but . . . I’ve known Joe since we were in first grade. We grew up together. We were always captains of the soccer team. And when you spend that much time with a person, you get a chance to see the facade slip away sometimes. The anger that would come out. His flashes of rage. When we were in eighth grade, Joe put a kid in the hospital with a baseball bat. I don’t remember what it was even about anymore. I just remember three of us pulling him off the poor kid. Cracked his skull. A year later, this girl Joe liked, Marian Barford, was going to go to the dance with Tom Mendiburu. Two days before, there’s a fire in the science lab and Tom barely gets out alive.”

Maya swallowed away the bile. “No one reported any of this?”

“You didn’t know Joe’s dad, did you?”

“No.”

“He was an intimidating man. There were rumors he was in with some rough customers. Whatever, payoffs were made. The family’s more, shall we say, unsavory friends would stop by and request your silence. Plus, well, Joe was good at it. He didn’t leave a lot of evidence. We talked about his charm before. He could fake contrition like nobody’s business. He would apologize. He would cajole. He was rich and powerful, and those moments, that darker side, he could really keep it hidden when he had to. Again, I remind you, I knew him my whole life. And even I saw it only a handful of times. But when I did . . .”

The tears started coming again.

“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing in a place like this.”

She hadn’t been. She had figured that he was an addict of some kind and was here for help. What else could it be? She wanted him to keep telling the story, but if he needed this sidetrack, it would probably be a mistake to stop him.

“I’m here,” he said, “because of Joe.”

She tried not to make a face.

“I know, I know, I’m supposed to take responsibility for myself. That’s what they always say. And yeah, I keep trading one addiction for another. I’ve been in here for booze, for pills, for coke . . . you name it. But I wasn’t always like this. In school I used to get teased because I wouldn’t have more than a beer. Didn’t like the taste. I tried pot once my senior year. It made me nauseated.”

“Christopher?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to Theo?”

“It was supposed to be a prank. That was what Joe told us. I don’t know if I believed him or not, but . . . I was so weak. Check that. I’m still weak. Joe was the leader. I was the follower. Andrew was a follower too. And really, what was going to be the harm? A little hazing. It happens all the time at schools like Franklin Biddle. So that night, we jumped Theo. You know what I mean? We came to his room—me, Joe, Andrew was already there—and we jumped on him and we carried him downstairs.”

He was looking off now, the thousand-yard stare, and a funny smile came to his face. “You know something?”

“What?”

“Theo went along with it. Like he got it. He was getting hazed. This was part of it. He was that cool a kid. I remember that he was smiling, you know, like this was all good. And then we get down to that room and we throw him in the chair. Joe started tying him up. We helped out. We’re all laughing, and Theo is pretending to call for help, that kind of thing. I remember I left this one knot loose. Joe came by and tightened it. Then, when Theo was all tied down, Joe took out a funnel. You know the kind. For drinking? He stuck it into Theo’s mouth, and I remember Theo’s eyes changed then. Like, I don’t know, like maybe he was starting to get it. Two other guys were there. Larry Raia and Neil Kornfeld. We were all laughing, and Andrew started to pour beer down the funnel. Guys were chanting, ‘Chug chug.’ And then, the rest is like a dream. A nightmare. Like I still can’t believe it all happened, but at some point, Joe replaced the beer with grain alcohol. I remember Andrew saying, ‘Wait, Joe, stop . . .’”

His voice faded away.

“What happened?” Maya asked, but it seemed obvious now.

“Suddenly Theo’s leg started thrashing, like he was having a seizure or something.”

Christopher Swain started to cry. Maya wanted to reach out her hand and put it on his shoulder. At the same time, she also wanted to punch him in the face. So instead she just sat there and waited.

“I’ve never told that story before yesterday. Not to anyone. But after your email . . . my doctor, she knows some of it now. That’s why she thought it would be good to talk to you. But that night, I mean, that’s when I went off the rails. I was so scared. I knew that if I said something, Joe would kill me. Not just back then. Now. Even now. I still feel . . .”

Maya tried to keep him talking. “So you, what, stuck the body in the basement?”

“Joe did.”

“But you were there, right?”

Swain nodded.

“So I doubt Joe lifted him alone, did he?”

He shook his head.

“Who helped Joe?”

“Andrew.” He looked up. “Joe made Andrew help him.”