Balance of Power

    Joan sat down, trying to stay rational. "What do you mean?"

    His tone retained its eerie calm. "I won't go by myself, Joanie. You'll go with me."

    It was as if, Joan thought, she was caught in John's descent into madness. "Then Marie would be an orphan . . ."

    "My parents could raise her."

    "Your parents. How could you do that to her?"

    "It would be your fault." The words mingled accusation with pity. "You never face your own responsibility, do you?"

    Nerves frayed, Joan cried out, "This is crazy—you turn everything around . . ."

    "You've turned my world inside out." His tone turned soft, ominous. "But now it's happening to you, isn't it. And you can't take it."

    There was silence. The sound of the click, John hanging up, terrified her more than anything he had said.

* * *

    Tuxedo tie dangling around his collar, Kerry glanced at his watch. As though she could see him, Joan interrupted her narrative.

    "Is this a bad time?"

    "There's a state dinner at seven with the Prime Minister of Canada. Tell me when this happened."

    "Last night."

    "He's threatening you, Joanie. Did you call the D.A.?"

    Kerry heard her draw a breath. "There's more . . ."

* * *

    Standing alone near the wooden play structure, Marie Bowden saw her father.

    Her heart stopped. He stood at the edge of the playground, gazing at her. Her mother had said he shouldn't be here. But he looked so sad.

    Almost timidly, he approached her. "Marie . . ."

    She took two steps toward him. Then he knelt, holding out his arms.

    Marie ran to him.

    He held her tight, kissing her hair and neck. When he released her, taking both her hands, his eyes were bright and strange.

    "It's okay," he reassured her. "I just needed to see you, one last time. Before I go away."

    Marie held his hands tighter. "Where?"

    "Far away." Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead, and then gazed into her eyes. "I wish I could take you with me, sweet pea."

    Fear and sadness pierced her heart. Quickly glancing over his shoulder, her father cradled her chin in his half-closed hand. Then, without another word, he stood and walked away. At the fence, he turned to gaze at her.

    Suddenly, her teacher was kneeling in front of her. When Marie looked up again, her father was gone.

    Miss Suarez's eyes seemed as worried as her father's had been sad. "What did he say to you, Marie?"

    Marie told her. Gently, Miss Suarez said, "I'll have to call your mommy," and Marie began to cry.

* * *

    The bedroom door opened. As Kerry listened, Lara slipped into the room, wearing a simple black gown. Silently, she mouthed, "Five minutes."

    Telephone to his ear, Kerry nodded. When Lara approached, he cupped the receiver and whispered, "Joan . . ."

    Lara became quite still. To Joan, Kerry said, "We have to call the D.A. For Marie's sake, and yours."

    "But he'll only get more angry."

    To stem her panic, Kerry kept his own voice patient. "If we don't, he'll only be more emboldened. What if, next time, John decides to take her?"

    "God . . ." Her voice broke in anguish. "I wish I could be sure . . ."

    "Trust me," Kerry implored her. "Please."

    There was silence. As Kerry listened, he saw Lara's eyes fill with doubt and worry. "All right," Joan murmured. "I guess you know . . ."

    To Kerry, this sounded more like exhaustion than assent. As she said goodbye, her voice was faint.

    "What is it?" Lara asked.

    Troubled, Kerry shook his head. "Help me with this tie, and I'll tell you."

    Lara worked on the knot. As she finished, so did Kerry. "His pattern worries me," he told her. "Depression; hopelessness; anger about losing Joan and being cut off from his child; this 'life is no longer worth it' monologue, with threats of suicide and worse. And then bringing Marie into his psychodrama.

    "He's panicking, becoming desperate. It's classic, and it's dangerous." Turning, Kerry plucked his tuxedo jacket off the canopied bed, shrugging into it. "Our job is to help protect them until he can get help, or at least accepts that Joan is gone for good."

    "I agree," Lara said. "But the issue is how. I think Joan needs security, however we can manage it. I also worry you're getting drawn in too deeply—that it will boomerang somehow. Maybe we should find Joanie her own lawyer, and work through him."

    Kerry reflected. "After tomorrow," he said, "we'll try to do all that. But we need to get the D.A. on this right away."

    Pensive, Lara considered this. "All right," she answered. "But the sooner we find her help in San Francisco, the better. This isn't feeling right to me."

    Together, they left the bedroom, Kerry trying to anticipate how Bowden might react to his arrest. At the top of the stairs, he paused to refocus on the dinner to come, hands resting on Lara's shoulders.

    "Canada," he said. "It's north of here, I think."

* * *

    Shortly after eleven, Kerry unknotted his tie, picked up the telephone in the office of his living quarters, and called Marcia Harding at her home in San Francisco. Lara stood beside him.