Jane Doe(73)

An actual screech gurgles up from the crowd. Several people stand up. I back away from the doors and let them shut, but they soon swing open again. The choir is still singing, but most of the congregation has realized that something terrible is happening. Some have phones pressed to their ears, but most are huddled in groups in the pews, communicating in frantic gestures and rumbles of words over the music.

The doors stay open almost continuously now as people trickle out. The choir begins a new song, but the sound is weakening as the people in the choir begin craning their necks at the jumbled audience.

I spy Steven standing at the front of the room, turning in a slow circle, totally confused by the uproar. Pastor Hepsworth looks mildly concerned and moderately puzzled, but he still has no idea what’s coming.

As more people surge into the vestibule, the roar becomes deafening. Just before I turn to walk out, there’s a break in the crowd and I see Steven approaching his father at the lectern, his brows drawn down in concern. In that sweet moment his gaze touches mine. His eyes widen. I smile at him.

Jane? I see him mouth in confusion. I let my smile widen to a grin. I let him see my pure, heartfelt joy. I hope he’ll remember this smile for the rest of his life. Then I wave and turn to walk away.

As I reach the door, I hear a dozen more phones buzz. My email dings. I head to my vehicle and start the engine.

Safe in the warmth of my big black SUV, I listen to the last audio file. Hepsworth Family Values Part Three is a real barn burner.

Is that Pastor Hepsworth, our Pastor Hepsworth, telling a woman to lie down on his desk? My God, is he praying for her as he takes her in his church office? Is she . . . ? Oh my God, is she calling him Daddy and begging for forgiveness for her sins?

I giggle over that. I’d really played that part up, and he’d loved it, groaning and growling with pleasure at my subservience, calling me his sweet girl as he pounded me. My performance sounds so sincere. I do my best work when I know there’s an audience. And what an audience it is.

A woman bolts from the church, sobbing. She’s the only one fleeing so far. Most of them will stick around for quite a while to watch this play out.

It’s not every day you get to see a man destroyed. It’s not every day you get to watch a whole family burn. This isn’t one isolated incident. This isn’t a simple transgression that can be forgiven.

I roll down my window. The music has stopped. Now the church rumbles as if boulders are tumbling through it. It’s the sound of a mob.

I sit in my car and watch for a long time. People begin to drift out, all of them upset and angry and betrayed. Even some of the men are crying.

I hear shouting through the glass. The children’s Bible study classes are led out to the grassy area beside the church as if a fire alarm has gone off. The teachers want to get them far away from the flames of scandal. They lead the kids in a round of “Jesus Loves Me,” but then one of the teachers breaks into sobs and runs back inside. The children grow quiet for a moment until they’re finally allowed to wander over to the church playground.

When a few more worshippers bolt through the vestibule doors into the parking lot, I decide to leave before the traffic gets too bad.

My work here is finally done.





CHAPTER 48

Steven is crying again. I pop a room service nacho into my mouth and put my feet up on the hotel desk to watch tiny Steven on my monitor as he paces around his kitchen island.

“I told you I don’t know!” he yells into his phone. “She’s just someone I met at work. I don’t know why she would do this! I went to her place, and I . . . I think it’s empty. I think maybe . . .”

Steven rubs his face, then shakes his head as the person on the other end of the line says something. “I know. I know. Just . . . will you please ask Dad to call me? He won’t answer my calls and I . . . I . . . I don’t know how he is. Ted, please! Please, I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was saying. Please!”

He slides down to the floor and curls up into a ball to sob. I guess Ted didn’t have anything helpful to contribute.

I turn off the sound and watch Steven lie in a heap for a few minutes before he pushes himself up and stumbles to the fridge for another beer. I pick through the last of my nachos with a sigh. It’s not that I’m not enjoying myself, but it’s been three days, and his weeping is getting a little boring.

All I’ve thought about for months is getting revenge, and now I have it.

On Monday, Steven’s company suggested he take a leave of absence. I’m not sure they have grounds to fire him, but there’s no doubt they won’t let him come back. No one wants to look a man in the face after they’ve listened to him get a blow job and brag about sleeping with his stepmom.

On Tuesday he kept leaving the house and then returning. Leaving and returning. It seems he was driving to his father’s house, but no one would answer the door. He apparently stopped by my apartment as well, but the lights aren’t on and no one is home. I like to imagine him banging on the door and furiously screaming my name. I hope the old barfly down the hall read him the riot act and told him to get lost.

It’s Wednesday now and I guess I’ve seen all I need to see. Amazingly he doesn’t seem to suspect that there might be cameras in his house. The audio files really fooled him. Any American can make a secret recording on a smartphone these days. Privacy is an illusion, and people have accepted that, though it hasn’t made them any more discreet. Please see recordings number one, two, and three.