Lily was searching for the right words, when Abby spoke up.
“Mr. Hanson was like a movie star. Magnetic and confident,” Abby said. “He had this charisma. People said he resembled a young George Clooney without the salt-and-pepper hair. He was cool. He acted like one of us, always dressed really well: the only teacher who wore designer jeans and rock concert T-shirts. He’d talk about getting drunk and partying with his wife and their friends on the weekends. It was like he was one of us.”
Dr. Zaretsky’s attention was still focused on Lily. “So, Lily, Rick Hanson never gave you a reason about why he targeted you specifically?” Dr. Zaretsky asked.
Abby leaned forward, wanting to hear the answer as much as anyone else.
“No. I don’t know why he chose me. I wish I did.”
“I made it easy for him, that’s why he took you,” Abby said.
Lily raised a questioning brow. “Abby, what are you talking about?” Lily asked.
“I left you that day at school. I should never have left you.” Lily was still confused. Abby continued. “If I hadn’t been mad about that stupid sweater—”
“What?”
“It was my fault, Lil.”
“Stop it, Abby. Stop.”
“But if I hadn’t—”
“He decided way before that. Months, maybe even a year before. He said he’d always wanted a teenage girl. Someone he could mold.”
“What was the distinction, Lily? Why pick a high school girl?” Dr. Zaretsky probed, leaning forward, her eyes filled with compassion.
“I hadn’t been ruined by the world yet. I was pure. Untouched. That’s what he said later. His wife wore yoga pants. She didn’t shave her legs. She got annoyed if he stayed out too late or had one too many beers at the Rotary Club barbecue. She talked back. When she was having her period, she didn’t want to have sex. Her weight fluctuated, and she didn’t listen to him when he told her how she should dress or style her hair. And I was all his. A girl who would never say no. I was the girl who obeyed his every request. I was his perfect, obedient baby doll.”
This terrible truth hung in the air. Dr. Zaretsky looked at her notepad again. Lily wondered if there was anything on it, or if the woman kept it there to buy her time when things got too uncomfortable.
“Do you know how long it was from the time he decided to take you until he actually acted on his desires?” Dr. Zaretsky said after a few moments.
“He’d said he bought the property when I was a freshman, right after he decided that we were meant to be together. He spent months leading up to when he took me, shopping every weekend, buying furniture at swap meets, painting, putting up wallpaper. Once that was done, he went to thrift stores, bought clothes he liked, vintage dresses, evening gowns, day dresses, sexy lingerie, an entire wardrobe just for me.”
Lily paused, searching for water. She spotted the nearby pitcher and poured herself a large glass. She gulped it down, grateful for a break.
“He installed soundproofing so no one could hear my cries for help. He installed locks. When I arrived, the room had bare essentials. A bed. Blankets and pillows. A hot plate. Anything else I wanted or needed he used as bargaining tools. Books, music, and food were rewards during what he called ‘training sessions.’ Good behavior earned rewards. Bad behavior resulted in varying degrees of punishments.”
“Can you tell us what kind of punishments?” Dr. Zaretsky asked.
“Jesus, use your imagination,” Abby said.
“I realize this is incredibly difficult to discuss, but we need details. They are crucial in building a solid case.”
Abby was twisting her hands back and forth nervously. Lily reached out and stilled them.
“Broken bones. Rape. Starvation. More beatings. The abuse varied, depending on his mood, or, as he liked to say, ‘the severity of the infraction.’”
Lily could do this. She was strong enough to do this. She thought back to the fight she’d gotten into with Abby and the voice mail she’d left for her mother. After she’d hung up, she’d figured her mom would show up, annoyed and ready with the standard “Why can’t you girls get along?” lecture. At a little before six o’clock, she’d seen Mr. Hanson, his leather backpack slung over his shoulder. He’d approached her in the quad, looking concerned.
“Lily, it’s getting late. You okay?” he’d asked.
Lily had sighed and gestured to her crutches. Without her sprained ankle, she’d have just jogged home, always eager to improve her time. But that day she was stuck at school, at the mercy of her parents to come get her or Abby to feel guilty and return to pick her up.
“They should really make these things motorized. It’d be much more effective.”
“Where’s Abby?”
“We had a fight, and my mom isn’t answering her cell. But I left her a message. She should be here soon.”