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"Take off your brassiere," she said. I stepped back, my heart pounding. "If you don't do it now, I'll have to have the police from town come here and take you down to the station for an even more embarrassing strip search. Do you want that?"
Memories of the police station where I had been questioned and told of Daddy's crime returned vividly. I shook my head and my tears flowed again, but she was unfeeling, unsympathetic, her metallic eyes cold and determined.
"I'm not hiding any necklace," I said.
"Then do what I say," she snapped back.
I looked at Sissy, and she looked down, ashamed for me. Slowly I brought my hands behind my back and unfastened my bra. Then I slipped it down my arms and quickly folded my arms across my bosom to shield it from her probing eyes. I stood there trembling. She stepped forward and checked the inside of my bra, of course finding nothing.
"Lower those panties," she said, not satisfied. I took a deep breath. Oh, the horror of her, I thought. I couldn't stop crying. My body shook with sobs.
"I can't stand here all day and wait," she said.
I closed my eyes to block out the embarrassment, and I brought my panties to my knees. As soon as I did so, she demanded I turn around.
"All right," she said. I pulled up my panties and put on my bra. Then I wrapped the blanket around myself again. I was shaking as much as I would had I been left out naked in the middle of a winter storm. My teeth wouldn't stop clicking against each other, but she didn't appear to notice or care.
"If you have hidden this necklace somewhere in this hotel, I will eventually know about it," she said. "Nothing, absolutely nothing happens here without my knowing about it one way or another, one time or another. And this is a unique necklace with rubies and small diamonds. You can't hope to sell it without it being known."
"I didn't take the necklace," I said, holding my sobs back and keeping my eyes closed. I shook my head vehemently. "I didn't."
"If I leave here now, and we discover you have the necklace, I will have to turn you over to the police. Do you understand? Once I leave, I can no longer cover for your crime," she warned.
"I didn't steal it," I repeated.
She pivoted and seized the door handle.
"You can't imagine the embarrassment I have to face now. You are defiant and stubborn, refusing to listen and do the things I have told you. Now thievery has been added to the list. I won't forget it," she threatened. She gazed at Sissy. "Let's go," she said.
"I'm sorry," Sissy mumbled quickly and rushed out after her. I collapsed on my naked mattress and cried until my tears dried up. Then I remade my bed and crawled under the blanket, stunned by the events that had just occurred. It all seemed much More like a nightmare than reality. Had I been dreaming?
The emotional tension exhausted me. I must have drifted off into a sleep of escape, because when I opened my eyes, I saw the rain had stopped, although there was still a wet chill in the air and the world outside was pitch dark—no stars, no moon, just the sound of the wind rushing in and over the hotel and grounds, swishing around the building:
I sat up with my back to the headboard, keeping the blanket wrapped around me. Then I decided to get up and get dressed. I needed to talk to someone and Philip was the first person who came to mind. But when I. went t. open the door, I found it locked. pulled on the handle, disbelieving.
"No!" I cried. "Open this door!"
I listened, but all I heard was silence. I turned the handle and pulled. The door wouldn't budge. Being locked in this small room suddenly filled me with panic. I was sure my grandmother had done it to add salt to my wounds, to punish me this way because she hadn't found the necklace in my room as she had expected.
"Someone open this door!"
I pounded the door with my small fists until they grew red and my arms ached. Then I listened. Someone had heard me. I could hear footsteps in the hallway. Maybe it was Sissy, I thought.
"Who's there?" I called. "Please, help me. The door is locked."
I waited. Although I didn't hear anyone speak, I sensed someone was there. I could feel someone's presence on the other side of that door. Was it my mother? Or Mrs. Boston?
"Who's there? Please."
"Dawn," I finally heard my father say. He spoke through the crack between the door and the jamb. "Please, unlock the door and let me out," I said.
"I told her you didn't take the necklace," he said.
"No, I didn't."
"I didn't think you would steal."
"I didn't!" I cried. Why wasn't he opening the door? Why was he speaking through a crack? He must be standing right up against it, I thought, with his lips to the opening.
