Shame

his shirt. He was surprised the polygraph hadn’t shorted because of all his perspiration. Caleb shuddered a little. He didn’t like being wired to anything.
    They’d given him aspirin for his headache a few hours earlier, but it hadn’t helped. His head throbbed. All those questions. All those insinuations. And more than insinuations.
    Do you love your wife, Cal?
    Were you envious of your father’s notoriety, Cal?
    Did you want to be like your father, Caleb?
    Did you know Teresa Sanders, Caleb?
    They already knew so many dirty things. And the whole time that damn machine had kept reacting, always scratching, scratching.
    Have you ever murdered anyone, Mr. Parker?
    He pushed the door open, glad to be free of the building. The night air, and his soaked shirt, made him shiver.
    “Caleb?”
    Her voice came from the darkness and made him jump. Elizabeth rose from the stairs.
    “God, you scared me,” he said.
    I’m the one who’s scared, Elizabeth thought. And crazy for being here. The lie detector says you’re a murderer. But she wasn’t as certain. Her inner polygraph knew that Caleb had been less than forthcoming with her. He was hiding things. Which was why her hand was inside her purse, cradled aroundher gun. But taking precautions was different from pronouncing guilt.
    Damn him, Elizabeth thought. His features were just like his father’s. But she was standing there because he didn’t feel like Gray.
    “How’d it go?” she asked.
    He shook his head.
    There was a melancholy so deep in him that Elizabeth didn’t know where it started and he ended. He averted his eyes when he talked with her. His father hadn’t been like that. Gray had been much more confident.
    “I have some things for you,” she said, holding out a bag.
    He took the bag without opening it, without asking any questions.
    “My card’s in there,” she said. “I’ve written down all my numbers. My answering service knows how to track me down, so I prefer you only use my cell phone number if it’s an emergency.”
    Elizabeth used her cell phone to call out but only rarely took incoming calls. She didn’t like to be obligated to answer the phone unless she knew it was an emergency.
    Caleb pocketed her card. He had no intention of ever calling her.
    “I know you’re probably exhausted now,” said Elizabeth, “but I’d like to talk to you later tonight.”
    Caleb didn’t commit himself with either word or gesture.
    “There’s also a book and MP3 player with a recording in the bag. They’re my story of your father.”
    Caleb finally looked at her. She was shivering, he noticed. Is she trying to help me, he wondered, or is she just doing her best to get the inside track to my story?
    “Why didn’t you bring a lawyer with you?” she asked.
    “Why didn’t you tell me they suspected me of another murder?”
    Neither answered. Neither had answers. Both just stood there looking at the other.
    “I have to go,” he said. “I have to talk to Anna. Prepare her.”
    But he didn’t leave, not immediately. “You’ve been through this lots of times before,” Caleb said. “You know the ropes. I don’t know which way the authorities are planning to go on this....”
    Caleb paused, but Elizabeth didn’t respond to the opening.
    “But if they decide to take me in, I need someone to look out for Anna and the kids, someone to be a buffer. They don’t know what kind of a zoo this can be.”
    “I’ll help them,” Elizabeth said.
    His exhaustion lifted for a moment, replaced by a look of relief. “Thank you. You know how bad it gets. All the sharks come out to feed, and they don’t care what they chew up in the process. Lots of innocent lives get ruined that way.”
    Caleb looked uncomfortable with having offered that autobiography. He shifted uneasily. “Well, good night,” he said.
    Elizabeth watched him walk away. He had respected her space, keeping his distance. She wondered if he had guessed about her gun.
    She walked back to her car, aware of the night, of the sounds. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Over the years she’d learned to be vigilant, had been taught by the best and learned lessons from the worst. She started her car but didn’t immediately pull away. Her father had worked in a car lot while she was growing up and had trained his daughter to let the engines warm up before driving off. It was antiquated thinking, she knew. Newer cars didn’t need that kind of coddling. But old habits were hard to