“He explained what happened this morning.”
“It was very ugly. I won’t paint it otherwise.”
“Well, you should be proud of yourself,” Dora sneered, meaning the opposite. “Your shameless behavior has led to this.”
She thrust the note at Marilee. It was crump
led and damp from being clutched in Dora’s hand. When Marilee smoothed it out, she recognized Scott’s handwriting.
The note was addressed to his parents. The first line alarmed her: “I know you’ll never forgive me for what I’ve done.” She read the line out loud, then looked up at Dora. “What does he mean by that? What has he done that’s unforgivable?”
“Screwing his schoolteacher, I suppose. I don’t know.” Dora had resumed pacing and was wringing her hands. “You’re the last person I want to be near. I hate being inside your house. But I came because I thought you might shed some light on the note. On where he is now. On whatever is ‘unforgivable.’ Tell me something,” she screamed, her voice shredding on the last word.
Marilee read the line again. “He could be referring to our affair. Or he could mean . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say what else the obscure sentence might signify.
“Is he referring to something that he’ll have done by the time we read the note, or something he’s done already? Something that he thinks we’ll consider unforgivable?”
“I don’t know, and I’m afraid to speculate, Mrs. Hamer.”
Dora backed into the wall, covered her face with her hands, and began to sob. “Does he mean he’s going to kill himself?”
Marilee continued reading, her panic rising. The words had the tone of a suicide note, although Scott hadn’t specifically said he intended to end his life. However, when he’d left her bedroom through the French doors this morning, barely taking time to dress, he’d been terribly upset. Although she’d begged him to stay, he wouldn’t be persuaded.
He ran out and must have stopped at home only long enough to compose the note. Whatever course of action he’d decided on, he’d decided very quickly. The rashness of it terrified her. He wasn’t thinking clearly or rationally. “Did he take anything with him when he left?”
“I don’t know.” Dora’s reply was desultory, as though she was so lost in her misery she wasn’t really listening.
Marilee took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Was anything missing from the house?”
Dora’s vision cleared. “Like what?”
Like a gun. Before Marilee could vocalize her thought, there was hard knocking on the front door. Both women reacted with a start. They stared at the door for several seconds, with shared but unspoken fear.
Marilee was the first to gather her courage. She crossed the room and opened the door.
“Ms. Ritt, we met yesterday.”
“I remember. Special Agent Wise.”
“Yes, ma’am. And Special Agent in Charge Begley.”
“Come in.”
She moved aside, allowing the two FBI agents to step into the entry. They stopped short of entering the living room when they saw Dora Hamer cowering against the wall. To his credit, Begley pretended not to notice her dishabille and acted as though he’d bumped into her at a tea party. “Good morning, Mrs. Hamer.”
Her eyes were wide with fright. All color had drained from her face. “Have you come about Scott?”
“Scott? No.”
Wise sensed their alarm. “What’s the matter?”
Dora left it to Marilee to answer. “We don’t know that anything is. Why are you here?”
“Actually, we hoped to find your brother at home,” Wise replied. “We went to the drugstore first. No one was there.”
At the mention of her brother, Marilee felt the muscles of her face solidify. She was still trying to absorb the full enormity of his treachery. His delight in hurting so many people was incomprehensible to her.
If he’d truly been worried about her moral turpitude, he would have confronted her with her transgression privately, encouraged her to seek help from a counselor or minister, or even threatened her with exposure if she didn’t immediately end her affair with Scott.