"How can you possibly know that?"

"Because I've known him for sixteen years. I watched him grow from an enthusiastic but very young student into a well-respected archaeologist. Do you know he didn't even have to apply for that professorship? Universities were soliciting him. He had his pick. But he's lost all that now. At first there was a lot of disbelief among his colleagues. Then it turned to disgust and now he's pretty much become the butt of their jokes."

"Kyle." She shook her head at her uncle's naivete. "Profession has nothing to do with it. Neither does skill or enthusiasm or anything else. You can't possibly know who's capable of molesting a child by those things."

"We traveled all over with him. Shared hotel rooms. Spent weeks together without ever being out of each other's sight. There would have been a clue, something, that he had a problem."

"He hung himself at the trial," Lou said. "They were going to put his daughter on the stand to testify against him and-"

"A four-year-old?" Eden interrupted. She tried to picture Cassie in a courtroom, telling a roomful of adults the terrible things that had happened to her, and her heart broke for that blond wisp of a child on Ben's dresser mirror.

"Yes," Lou said. "Ben couldn't stand to see her up there, so he pled guilty, right in the middle of the trial. He told the judge he wasn't really guilty, but that he wanted to spare his daughter going through any more torture."

"He was a fool to do it," Kyle said, "but I guess you don't think straight under those circumstances. The judge ordered a recess and Ben's lawyer talked him into sticking it out, but the damage was done because the jury heard him say it. I think they should have started over with a new jury, but then I wasn't the judge."

Eden sighed. "I don't know, Kyle. I can't imagine why he'd blurt out he was guilty if there wasn't something to it."

"I've watched him with Sharon and I've watched him with his daughter," Kyle said. "He was a real family man. He was as content as he could be with his marriage and his life."

"That's what convinced me he was innocent, if nothing else," said Lou. "If he had admitted he hurt Bliss, all they would have done was slap him on the wrist and put him in a counseling program and he could have had his family back. But he couldn't admit to something he hadn't done. So instead he was locked up for six months and told he could never see his daughter again. He would never have made that choice unless he saw no way out of it."

In spite of herself, in spite of the revulsion that still festered in her stomach, she felt sorry for him.

"When he first moved down here, we talked about it for hours and hours," Lou continued. "We sat right here at this table and talked. You should let him tell you, Eden. I don't think you can listen to his side of the story and still think he's guilty. They twist things in a courtroom. He made a grave tactical error, and the prosecution had a better lawyer. That's what it boils down to sometimes."

Kyle leaned away from the table and shook his head. "He was in bad shape when he first got here. I think he sometimes wanted to kill himself. Scared us, didn't it?" He looked at Lou, who nodded. "We made him stay here a few nights because he got so upset talking about it we were afraid to let him go back up to his cabin. He never came right out and said he was suicidal, but he'd talk about wishing he were dead, not seeing much point to going on. It was hard to argue with him. Everything he'd worked for and cared about was gone."

She remembered the photograph he'd shown her of his house in Annapolis. His pride. His loss. She thought of the way he'd told her to leave him alone, the coolness in his eyes. The Valium in his bathroom.

"I had a couple of nightmares when he first got here," Kyle said. "I dreamt that I'd go up to the cabin and find him sitting in a rocker-though he doesn't have one up there-with a shotgun in his arms and his head splattered all over the wall behind him."

"I don't think he'd use a gun," she said quietly. "He has some Valium."

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "Was he upset when you left him?"

A think so."

"Maybe I'd better go up and check on him."

"No." She stood up. "I'll go."

Lou caught her hand, squeezed it hard. "You're wise to be leery of him, Eden," she said. "He's going to carry that conviction around with him for the rest of his life. You're a public figure and a mother-you wouldn't be able to shake it. If you want to end your relationship with him, do it on those grounds, not because you think he hurt his daughter."

28 Ben wanted to get to his cabin, to the whiskey, before the jagged teeth of his memories had a chance to do their damage. But they caught up to him at his front door, and by the time he had the top off the bottle, by the time he felt the liquid burn his throat, he was theirs.

The moment that had changed his life forever had come on a cold January day, one week into the spring semester. He had stopped at the public library on his way home from the university, as he did at least once a week, to pick up some books for Bliss's bedtime stories. When he arrived home he found Sharon sitting at the kitchen table, her hands folded in her lap. Her strawberry-blond hair was up in a ponytail and she wore her usual jeans and sweatshirt, but there was some-thing peculiar in the way she sat, in the way she looked at him. It was six-thirty but there was no sign of dinner, and the house was strangely quiet, no customary wild greeting from his daughter. He set the books on the counter and loosened his tie.

"Where's Bliss?" he asked.

"At Alex and Leslie's."

He frowned, trying to remember. Were he and Sharon supposed to go out tonight? Had he forgotten something?

Sharon was so still that he shuddered. He took a step closer and leaned down to kiss her, but she turned her head away. "What's the matter?" he asked.

She looked up at him as though he should know.

"Is it your father?" Her father had been sick for months.

She shook her head and then stood up. "Pat Kelley and Joan Dove spoke with me when I picked Bliss up today."

"About what?" Pat Kelley was the director of Bliss's daycare center and Joan Dove, Bliss's teacher.

"She said they've noticed a change in Bliss's behavior. She's irritable and she cries a lot and she's more fearful than she used to be."

"Same as at home," he said. Bliss had started sucking her thumb again and crying at bedtime. A few times recently she'd wet the bed.

"Joan said that during naptime yesterday Bliss was masturbating and trying to snuggle up to Jason Peterson. Joan thought it was a little odd but didn't say anything to her except to move her away from Jason." Sharon was watching him carefully, waiting for him to piece the puzzle of her words together. But he had no idea where she was going with this. "Then yesterday during her nap Bliss wet herself. I'd taken Joan a change of underpants a few weeks ago in case Bliss had an accident during the day. When Joan changed her she noticed a rash." Sharon put her hand to her mouth and tears filled her eyes. "I noticed it during her bath yesterday, but I thought it was just from wetting herself. I never asked her about it."

Sharon looked so guilty that he put his arms around her, but she jerked away from him.

"You know what I'm talking about, Ben, don't you?"

He frowned, shook his head. "I have no idea."

"Joan asked Bliss how she got so sore down there and Bliss said you did it."

"What?"

"She said you put your finger inside her."

He stood very still. He could feel his heart beating. "Why would she say that?"

"You tell me."

"Joan must have misunderstood her."

Sharon shook her head. "I thought so too. But on the way home in the car I asked her myself. I said, 'Ms. Dove says you have a rash around your vagina,' and she said, 'She said I can't put a Band-Aid on it.' And I said, 'How do you think you got a rash there?'-I was careful, Ben. I didn't want to lead her-and she said, 'Daddy put his finger in my vagina.' She said it just like that, every word clear as a bell, and then she said, 'I wish he'd stop that. It hurts sometimes.' I started crying and I had to pull over. That scared her, seeing me fall apart like that, but I couldn't help myself."

A wave of nausea passed through him and he sat down at the table. "Sharon, I never touched her. I would never hurt her."

"Then why would she say you did?"

"I don't know. Could she have dreamt it?"

Sharon shook her head. "Joan says there's too much evidence that she's been molested. The fearfulness, the wetting, the seductive stuff with Jason. You don't dream up a rash. And she's been masturbating so much lately. I thought maybe she irritated herself." She looked at him hopefully.

"That must be it." He heard the flatness, the uncertainty in his voice.

"But why would she say it was you?"

"I don't know. Look, let's go pick her up and talk to her. If I can talk to her I'm sure-"

"No! I don't want you talking to her."

He frowned at her in disbelief. How dare she tell him he couldn't talk to his own daughter? But he spoke calmly. "You can be there too. I'm sure if-"

"You can't, Ben. She has to stay at Alex and Leslie's tonight. I told them we were going out. I couldn't tell them the truth." Sharon sat down again. Her hands shook as she rested them on the table, and she lowered them once more to her lap. "Look, Pat and Joan wanted to call the child protection people right away but I persuaded them to wait until tomorrow so I could talk to Bliss myself and talk to you... At that point I really didn't believe it. I told them you were the best father imaginable..." Sharon's voice broke. "I defended you. I rattled on. I gave them examples of how you take her places with you, read to her, give up your own activities for her. They kept nodding, and Pat finally said that it's often the fathers who seem most sensitive and caring about their children who are the abusers. I wanted to hit them. I felt they were so wrong about you."

"And now?" He watched her face, and in the silence that followed he could hear the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall behind him.

"Now I don't know what to think," she said finally. "But I had to promise them to keep you away from Bliss tonight. That was the only way I could get them to agree to wait on the call."

"This is insane!" He pounded the table with his fist and stood up. "She's my daughter! Nobody can tell me I can't see her."

Sharon bit her lip and looked away from him.

"Look, I'll go in and talk to Joan and Pat in the morning," he said.

"It's not that simple, Ben. They have a legal responsibility to call."

"Sharon." He looked down at her. "How long have you known me?"

"Nine years."

"Have you ever known me to lie to you?"

"No."

"Then I'm asking you to believe me now."

She started to cry again. "It's my fault," she said. "Things haven't been good between us since the surgery." He sat down again, moving his chair next to hers so he could hold her. He understood what she was saying. A year ago she'd had surgery on her back, and for a long time afterward they couldn't make love. When her doctor finally gave his okay she seemed to have lost interest. But he'd viewed it as a phase. Marriage was cyclical. Eventually sex would be good again. It was true, though, that the lack of physical closeness had spilled over into the rest of their relationship. And it was true that he looked forward to seeing Bliss in the evening more than he did Sharon.

He pressed his lips to the smooth, freckled skin of her neck. Her skin was warm, her scent comforting. "I didn't do anything to Bliss." He lifted his head. "But even if I did, it wouldn't be your fault. I know you haven't felt like yourself this past year."

She looked up at him. "I'm so scared, Ben."

He felt none of her fear, though looking back later, he knew he should have been terrified. He was naive, a true innocent who trusted that everything would work out. He kissed Sharon and was surprised by the heat in her response. He led her to the bedroom and they made love, hungrily, the way they had when they were new to each other. He was inside her when she came, her body reaching, arching. But then she began to sob and her muscles fell limp, her arms slack on the bed, her legs lifeless when only a few seconds earlier they'd been gripping him. And he couldn't go on, not with her like that, her face turned away from him in disgust. He pulled out of her carefully, went into the bathroom, showered, dressed, and came back to sit on the edge of the bed.

She'd pulled the spread over her and she lay on her side, weeping into a tissue. Her ponytail was coming loose and he gently tugged out the rubber band and smoothed her hair over her throat. "Let's go get Bliss," he said. "Let's straighten this whole thing out before it goes any further."

"Oh, God, Ben." She rolled onto her back to look at him. "Why would she say you did it if you didn't?"

He felt a fury in his chest, like something trying to escape, to explode. "I did nothing!"

She stood up and pulled the spread around her. Her chin quivered; her wet cheeks glistened in the light from the bathroom. "I love you so much, Ben, but I..." She shook her head. "I can't sleep in here with you tonight. I'm sorry, I just..." She pressed her hand to her face as though she might be able to hold back her tears.

"Sharon." He reached for her, but she stepped away.

"I'll sleep in the guest room," she said, and he watched her gather the spread around her shoulders and turn her back on him.

He was tempted to drive over to Alex and Leslie's and talk to Bliss himself, but he thought better of it. Later on he would berate himself for not going. That had been his only chance, the last time he wasn't helpless to save himself. Could he have talked to Bliss, understood what she was trying to say? Could he have turned the entire tide of this nightmare right then? If he'd been able to see the future, he would have gone to see Bliss that night. But he never dreamed the devastation that lay ahead of him.

He had nearly finished teaching his two o'clock class the next day when he spotted a police officer in uniform standing outside the open door of his classroom. He tried to slow things down. The dismissal bell rang, but still he talked to the class, droning on as the minutes passed. His students shifted in their seats, their books piled on their desks, ready to make their escapes. They looked at each other, asking with their eyes, What's Alexander up to? Finally he let them go. Then he sat down at his desk and waited.

The officer identified himself and said, too loudly, "You are under arrest for the sexual abuse of your daughter." He read Ben his rights and, although Ben said he would go quietly, handcuffed him. He was led out that way, through the interminably long hallway of the science building, past openmouthed students, many of them his. He wanted to smile at them reassuringly, offer a joke or two, but his throat was dry. He kept his eyes focused on the stream of sunlight pouring through the door at the end of the hall.

The policeman pushed him into the backseat of the car with a growl of disgust. Everyone was taking this very seriously, and for the first time he thought that maybe something had happened to Bliss. If that was the case, it had to have been someone other than him. He trembled in the backseat of the car. His wrists burned where they were cuffed. He could not tolerate the thought of anyone touching her.

He ran down the list of people Bliss spent time with. Joan Dove. Sam and Jen. Alex and Leslie. Bliss's occasional baby-sitter, the elderly Mrs. Blayton. None of them fit. What about the kids in the neighborhood? There were a few older kids that were pretty rough with the younger ones. Maybe when Bliss was playing at another child's house? Someone else's daddy? Or maybe the young maintenance man who worked at Bliss's day care, that ferret-eyed, seedy kid that Ben had never liked to see around the children. It would all have to be looked at, wouldn't it?

He used his one phone call to reach Sam at the clinic. Sam was in a session with a patient, but Ben told his service it was urgent, to interrupt him, and he sounded desperate enough that the woman put him through.

"I've been arrested," Ben said. "I need you to post bail."

Sam was quiet on the other end of the phone. What could he be thinking? Ben in jail? Ben, who had never even had a parking ticket?

"Why are you there, Ben?" Sam's voice was quiet, gentle. Ben pictured Sam's patient sitting in the brown leather chair, imagining that Sam was talking to another patient, a fellow sufferer.

"I don't want to go into it over the phone. How soon can you get here?"

"I have one more patient and then I'll see you." Sam chose his words carefully. "About six-thirty. And Ben?" There was no euphemistic way for Sam to ask this question. "How much do I need?"

"One thousand." Ben shut his eyes. Sam could afford it, but that didn't make the asking any less humiliating. "I'll pay you back tomorrow when I can get to the bank."

"No problem. See you later."

He sat in the passenger seat of Sam's Mercedes, staring at the streetlights, their white glow blurred by a freezing rain. He'd told Sam he couldn't go home, that he wanted to go to Sam and Jen's instead. But he didn't tell him why. He didn't tell him he was not allowed to be in the same place as Bliss. "If you want to stay at home, your daughter will have to go into foster care," they'd told him. That hardly left him a choice.

He was quiet as they drove, dreading the moment he would have to tell Sam the truth. He didn't want to see the same revulsion in Sam's face that he saw in everyone else's.

Sam pulled up at a red light. He looked over at his brother. "C'mon, Ben. Get it out."

Ben met his eyes. "They think I hurt Bliss," he said. "Molested her."

Sam's jaw dropped and Ben quickly resumed staring out the window. "Jesus," Sam said.

"I didn't do it."

"Of course you didn't." Sam started driving again. "I can't believe anyone would think you did."

"Even Sharon thinks I did."

Sam nodded. "Well, that's good. That's healthy. Bliss is her baby. She wants to protect her at all costs to herself. She can't think straight about you right now. What evidence do they have?"

"A rash. But it's worse than that-Bliss told them I did it."

"What?" Sam looked at him and Ben thought he saw a glimmer of doubt about him in Sam's green eyes.