The God Project Page 13

  When she was gone, Arthur Wiseman switched off the CRT, then turned to Malone.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish none of this had had to happen, but with cases like this, you just can’t avoid it.”

  Malone smiled at the older man. “It’s all right, Arthur. Part of the job.”

  Wiseman nodded and returned to his desk. He picked up a medical journal, a clear signal for Malone to leave the office. But when he was alone, Arthur Wiseman’s thoughts stayed on Sally Montgomery. Her adjustment to the loss of her daughter was not proceeding within the parameters that he considered normal. Sally, he was sure, was beginning to exhibit obsessive behavior, and if it continued, something would have to be done.

  He turned the matter over in his mind, examining it from every angle. Finally, sighing heavily, he picked up the telephone and began to dial.

  Sally moved swiftly down the corridor toward the entrance of the clinic, her emotions roiling. Wiseman’s manner—his insufferable calm in the face of her tragedy and his patronizing attitude—infuriated her. It seemed to her that there was an arrogance about the man that she had never seen before.

  Never seen, or chosen to ignore?

  She emerged from the clinic and paused, letting the spring air flow over her, breathing deeply, as if the warm breeze could clear away the feeling of oppression that had come over her in Wiseman’s office. She could still hear his voice, resonating in her mind, as he rambled on about “accepting reality,” “going on with life,” and all the other platitudes that, she suddenly realized, had been flowing from his lips for the last ten years.

  From now on, she decided, she would be on her guard when she talked to Dr. Wiseman.

  Chapter 14

  SALLY MONTGOMERY GLANCED at the clock on the dashboard It was a few minutes past three, and Eastbury Elementary was only a block out of her way. She made a left turn on Maple Street and pulled up in front of the school Maybe she’d treat Jason to an ice cream cone on the way home. She waited in the car, still trying to calm the anger she was feeling from her talk with the two doctors.

  And yet, as she thought about it, she realized that her anger really shouldn’t be directed toward them. It was that group in Boston—CHILD—that was doing the snooping. And snooping, Sally was sure, was exactly what it was. That was the trouble with computer technology: It had turned the country into a nation of gossips. Everywhere you turned there was information stored away on tapes and disks and dots, much of it useless, most of it forgotten as soon as it was collected, but all of it stored away somewhere. And why? Sally, over the years, had come to the conclusion that all the data collecting had nothing to do with research. It was just plain old nosiness, and she had always half-resented it.

  Only half, because Sally was also well aware that she was part of that snoop-culture, and while she had often questioned the uses to which computers were put, she had always been fascinated by the technology. But today, she realized, the chickens had come home to roost. That incredible ability to invade an individual’s privacy had been turned on her own child.

  In her head she began to speculate on how CHILD might have been planning to track Julie for twenty-one years. Just through hospital records? But what if Julie had grown up to be as healthy as Jason? There would have been no hospital records.

  And then it came to her.

  School records.

  Sally got out of her car just as the school bell rang and children began to erupt from the building. She spotted Jason in the crowd, waved to him, and waited as he ran over to her.

  “I thought I’d pick you up and take you out for an ice cream cone,” she said. Jason grinned happily and scrambled into the car. Sally started back around to the driver’s side, then changed her mind. “Wait here a minute,” she told her son. “I have to talk to someone.” Without waiting for Jason to reply, she walked purposefully into the school.

  “Miss Oliphant?”

  The nurse glanced up, trying to place the face. Not a member of the school staff, therefore a parent. She put on her best welcoming smile and stood up. “Guilty.”

  “I’m Sally Montgomery. Jason Montgomery’s mother?”

  “That explains why I didn’t place you,” Annie Oliphant replied. “I know the mothers only of the sick ones.” Then the smile faded from her lips as she remembered what had happened to Jason’s sister. “Oh, Mrs. Montgomery, I’m sorry. What a stupid thing for me to say. I can’t tell you hoto sorry all of us were to hear about your baby.”

  “You know about Julie?” Sally asked, relieved that at least she wouldn’t have to try to explain Julie’s death to the nurse.

  “Everyone in town knows. I wish there was something I could do. In fact, I wondered if I ought to talk to Jason about it, but then decided that I’d only be meddling. I’ve been keeping an eye on him though. He seems to be handling it very well. But, of course, he’s a remarkable little boy anyway, isn’t he?”

  Sally nodded distractedly, wondering how to broach the subject she wanted to discuss with the nurse. “He’s out in the car waiting for me,” she said at last. “And since I was here, I thought I’d ask you a question.”

  “Anything,” Annie said, sinking bade down into her chair. “Anything at all.”

  “Well, it might be a dumb question,” Sally went on. “It has to do with an organization in Boston, one that studies children—”

  “You mean CHILD?” Annie interrupted, her brows arching in surprise.

  “You do know of them?”

  “Of course. They’re surveying some of our students.”

  “Surveying them? How?” But even as Sally spoke, she answered her own question. “Through a computer, right?”

  “You got it Every few months they request an update. It’s some kind of project that involves tracking certain children through a certain age—”

  “Twenty-one,” Sally interrupted.

  “Oh, you know about the project When I talked to Mrs. Corliss the other day, the whole thing seemed to come as a complete surprise to her. I’d always assumed the parents of the children knew all about the study, but Mrs. Corliss hadn’t even known it existed.” Then her expression clouded. “It’s such a shame about Randy running away, isn’t it?”

  Sally’s mind whirled as she tried to sort out what Annie Oliphant had just told her. She lowered herself onto the chair next to the nurse’s desk and reached out to touch the other woman’s arm.

  “Miss Oliphant—”

  “Call me Annie.”

  “Thank you. Annie, I just found out about this study today.” She told the nurse what had happened that afternoon and how she had come to ask the question that had started the conversation. “But what you just said sounded as though I should have known about the survey all along.”

  Annie Oliphant frowned. “But I thought you did know,” she said. “Jason’s part of the survey too. Jason, and Randy Corliss, and two younger boys.”

  “I see,” Sally breathed. Suddenly she felt numb. What was going on? And what had Annie just said about Randy Corliss?

  “He seems to have run away,” the nurse answered when Sally repeated her question out loud. “Except that his mother thinks he was kidnaped.” She shook her head sympathetically. “I suppose she just can’t accept the idea that her own child might have run away from her, and she’s trying to find some other reason for the fact that he’s gone. Some reason that takes the final responsibility off herself.”

  “I suppose so,” Sally murmured as she rose from the chair. Her mind was still spinning, but at least she knew where to go next “Thank you for talking to me, Annie. You’ve been very helpful.” Then her gaze fell on the file folder that still contained Jason’s health records. “Could I have a copy of that?”

  Annie hesitated. She had already broken the rules by giving Lucy Corliss a copy of Randy’s file, and she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to repeat the offense. Still, the circumstances of the two mothers seemed to her to have certain parallels. She made up her mind and disappeared
from the room for a few minutes. Finally she returned and handed Sally the Xerox copies of the file. “I don’t see how I’ve helped you, but if I have, I’m glad,” she said. She walked with Sally to the front door and watched as Sally hurried down the steps and went to her car. Then she returned to her office and stared at the file cabinet for a moment She began straightening up her office, but as she worked, her mind kept going back to CHILD and the survey. How much information did they have? And what were they using it for? She didn’t, she realized, have the faintest idea. All she really knew was that slowly, all over the country, banks of information were being built up about everybody. But what did it mean?

  For one thing, no one would be able to disappear. No matter who you were, or where you went, anyone who really wanted to could find you. All they’d have to do would be to ask the computers.

  Annie wasn’t sure that was a good idea.

  Sometimes people need to hide, and they should be able to.

  For the first time, it occurred to Annie Oliphant that the whole idea of using computers to watch people was very frightening.

  If there was a computer watching nine-year-old boys grow up, was there also, somewhere, a computer watching her?

  While Jason Montgomery played in the tiny backyard, Sally and Lucy sat in Lucy’s kitchen, sipping coffee and talking. The first moments had been difficult, as each of the women tried to apologize for not having offered her sympathy earlier, yet each of them understood the pain of the other.

  For the last half-hour they had been discussing the survey their children were involved in.

  “But what are they doing?” Sally asked yet again. “What are they looking for?”

  Lucy shrugged helplessly. “I wish I could tell you, Sally. Maybe next week I’ll be able to. I’ve got an appointment on Monday, and I won’t leave until I know what that study is all about.”

  “Do you really think it has anything to do with Randy’s disappearance?”

  Lucy sighed. “I don’t know anything anymore. But it’s the only really odd thing I can come up with. Extra-healthy boys. They’re studying extra-healthy boys; but how could they know which ones are going to be extra-healthy when they’re babies? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Maybe it does,” Sally said thoughtfully. “Maybe they started out with a huge population and began narrowing it down as some of the subjects began showing the traits they were looking for. Maybe by the time the children get to be Randy’s and Jason’s ages, they’ve been able to focus on the population they’re interested in.”

  “And maybe the moon is made out of green cheese,” Lucy snapped. “Think about it, Sally. Annie Oliphant told you there are only four boys at the school involved in the survey and all of them are younger than Randy. According to your idea, there should be a lot of children being surveyed, at least in kindergarten and the first couple of grades. But there are only four. So there was something special about those four, and the Children’s Health Institute for Latent Diseases knew about it.”

  “And what about Julie?” Sally asked, her voice quivering. “Was there something special about her too?”

  Lucy reached across the table and squeezed Sally’s hand. “Oh, Sally, I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m trying to figure out what might be going on. And—and maybe there was something about Julie that nobody knows about.”

  “And maybe there wasn’t,” Sally replied. She stood up and began gathering her things together. “Maybe we’re both a little bit crazy, Lucy. Maybe I’d better go home and do what everyone wants me to do—forget about Julie and go on with my life.”

  “And what about Jason?” Lucy countered. “Julie’s dead, and Randy’s missing, and Jason’s part of that study too! What about him?”

  Sally’s eyes suddenly blazed. “What about him? What about all the other children in the survey? Apparently nothing’s wrong with the others, at least not the ones here in Eastbury.” And then, as she saw the hurt in Lucy’s eyes, it was Sally’s turn to apologize for her hasty words. “Lucy, forgive me. I didn’t think—I just let loose. Of course I’m worried about Jason. Ever since Julie died, I’ve been worried sick about Jason. I’m edgy all the time, and I can’t work, and half the time I think I’m losing my mind. But I don’t know what to do next.”

  “Then don’t do anything,” Lucy said. “Don’t do anything at all. Wait until Monday. I’ll go to Boston, and I’ll talk to the people at the Institute. Then we can deride what to do next. Okay?”

  Silently, Sally nodded her head. A few minutes later, as she and Jason were on their way home, Sally found herself glancing over at her son.

  Was there something about him that made him special?

  Deep in her heart, she hoped not. All she really wanted for her little boy right then was for him to be just like all the other little boys.

  Certainly, he looked just like other boys.

  But was he?

  For Steve and Sally Montgomery, the evening was like a play, with each of them trying, as best as possible, to pretend nothing was wrong between them, or within their home.

  And yet the house itself seemed not to have recovered from the loss of its youngest occupant, and there was an emptiness to the rooms of which both Steve and Sally were acutely aware.

  Steve tried to fill the void with three martinis, but even as he drank them, he knew it was useless. Instead of feeling the euphoria that ordinarily enveloped him with the second drink, he was becoming increasingly depressed. As he fixed the third drink, his back to his wife, he heard himself speaking.

  “Aren’t you making dinner tonight?” There was a cutting edge to his voice and, as the words floated in the atmosphere, he wished he could retrieve them. He turned to face Sally, an apology on his lips, but the damage had already been done.

  “If you’re in such a hurry, you might start fixing it yourself.”

  Jason, sprawled on the floor in front of the television, looked up at his parents, sensing the tension in the room. “Why don’t we go out?” he suggested.

  “Because money doesn’t grow on trees,” Steve snapped. As his son’s chin began to tremble, he set his drink down, then knelt down to tousle Jason’s hair. “I’m sorry, sport. I guess your mom and I are just feeling edgy.”

  Jason squirmed uncomfortably. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. A moment later he slipped out of the room and Sally heard him going upstairs. When the sound of his footsteps had disappeared, she turned to Steve.

  “They’re studying him too, you know,” she said. “It wasn’t just Julie, They’re watching Jason too.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Steve groaned. He’d listened to Sally’s recital of the day’s events earlier. As far as he could see, none of it meant anything. It was all nothing more than coincidence. Why wouldn’t she drop it? “For Christ’s sake, honey, can’t you leave it alone?” he demanded, but remorse at his own words immediately flooded over him.

  It had been that way ever since the funeral. It was as if, with her burial, Julie had thrown him off balance, had somehow disturbed the symmetry of his life, drained away the joy he used to feel. Now he felt as though a stranger was living in his body, an angry, mournful stranger who had no way of dealing with the equally strange people around him. The only solution, he knew, was to forget about Julie, to forget that she had ever existed, and somehow to go back to the time before she had been conceived, when there had been only Sally and Jason and himself. If he could do that—if they could do that—then things would be all right again. They would be a family again.

  But every day, every hour, something happened, or something was said, that reminded him of his little girl, and the scabs were ripped from his wounds and he began to hurt all over again.

  And then he would lash out.

  Lash out at Sally, lash out at Jason, lash out at anything or anyone that was available. The worst of it was that even though he understood what was happening to him, he could do nothing to stop it, nor could he bring himself to try to explain it to Sally.

&nbs
p; He no longer knew what to do about Sally. He had thought that time would take care of her wounds, as he hoped time would take care of his own. But then, late this afternoon, he had had that call from Dr. Wiseman.

  Wiseman was worried about Sally. His conversation had been filled with words and phrases of which Steve had only a vague understanding.

  “Obsessive behavior.”

  “Paranoid tendencies.”

  “Neurotic compulsion.”

  All of it, Steve knew, boiled down to the fact that while he was trying to forget what had happened, his wife was refusing to face it. Instead, she was grasping at straws, looking for plots where there were no plots. And if it continued, according to Wiseman, Sally could wind up with serious mental problems.

  Dinner, when it finally was on the table, was an unhappy affair, with Steve at one end of the table, Sally at the other, and Jason caught in the middle, understanding only that something had gone wrong—something connected with his sister’s death—and his parents didn’t seem to love each other anymore. He ate as fast as he could, then excused himself and went up to his room. When he was gone, Steve carefully folded his napkin and set it next to his plate.

  “I think we have to talk,” he said.

  Sally, her lips still drawn into a tight line that reflected the anger she had been feeling since before dinner, glared at him. “Are you going to apologize for the way you spoke to Jason and me?”

  “Yes, I am,” Steve replied. He fell silent, trying to decide how to proceed. Finally, as the silence grew uncomfortable, he made himself begin. “Look, Sally, I know both of us are under terrible strain, and I know we both have to handle this in our own way. But I’m worried about you. Dr. Wiseman called today—”