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She wanted to seek cover and hide, as she had that day in the boathouse, but she was no longer a child, and if she gave in to her fear now, she might never learn what even her unlocked memory couldn’t tell her.
Reaching up from her place on the floor, she grabbed a corner of the desk and used it as leverage to pull herself to her feet. She closed her eyes against the lashing fury of the storm, took several deep breaths, then let go of the desk and walked from the room.
All the lights in the house had gone out, but she found her way to the main staircase. Gripping the newel post, she paused. Its curving length seemed rife with menace. It was so dark she couldn’t even see where it ended at the top, but she forced herself to plant her foot on the bottom tread and start up.
She was blinded by periodic flashes of lightning, causing her to grab the banister and wait un
til her vision returned. When she reached the second-story landing, she looked down the long hallway. It was dark. But a faint light shone beneath the door of the bedroom Olivia and Howard had shared. Bellamy walked toward it and didn’t even pause to knock before turning the doorknob and going in.
A candle votive flickered on the nightstand. Olivia was lying on the bed, the covers pulled up to her chest. “Olivia?”
She raised her head from the pillow. “Bellamy.” Then, more weakly, “Steven left.”
Bellamy crossed the room to stand at the foot of the bed. Olivia glanced down at her hand, in which she clutched the two telling photographs. When her gaze moved back to Bellamy’s face, she looked deeply into her eyes for ponderous moments. Finally, she said, “You know.”
Bellamy nodded and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. For a time they just looked at each other, saying nothing. Olivia broke the taut silence. “How did you piece it together?”
“I didn’t. With the help of these photographs, I finally remembered.”
Olivia looked at her quizzically.
Bellamy explained her memory loss. “Even when I was focused on that day and writing the book, I couldn’t remember snatches of time. Not until just now did it all come back.”
“You saw me do it?” Olivia asked quietly.
“I saw you standing over her body with the tie to your blouse in your hand.”
“It was detachable. After the tornado, no one noticed that it was missing. People had had their clothing blown off. One child was found completely naked. The funnel had literally sucked her clothes off her.”
“You just dropped the tie amid the rubble. The murder weapon vanished when the storm debris was cleared.”
“All this time it’s been assumed that she was strangled with her underpants.”
“So the pair of panties that was found in Strickland’s house today—”
“Oh, I’m certain they’re hers. Allen could have given them to his brother before his arrest, so he wouldn’t be caught with them.”
“You knew he had them?”
“Oh, yes. Of course I couldn’t tell, because I couldn’t say how I knew. I was sure the police would find them, which would have clenched his guilt. But they didn’t. I can’t explain why Ray kept them all these years.”
Bellamy couldn’t believe the calm and detached manner in which Olivia was relating all this. “Olivia, what happened out there in the woods?”
Her chest rose and fell on a deep sigh. “I saw her leave the pavilion with that boy following her like she was in heat. She was, you know. Constantly. She gave off an animalistic… scent. Something. I don’t know. But it was unmistakable to men. Anyway, I followed them. I didn’t want her shenanigans to spoil our big day.
“I heard them before I saw them. Disgusting noises. Like animals in rut. His heavy breathing, her moans. Susan’s back was against a tree. The top of her sundress was pulled down. He was at her breasts. His hands. Mouth. He seemed totally absorbed, but Susan looked bored. She was staring up at the sky.
“She remarked that it looked funny, that it looked like a storm was coming. But either he didn’t hear her, or he ignored her. She said his name and gave him a slight push away from her. ‘I don’t want to get rained on,’ she said.
“He laughed and said, ‘Then we’d better hurry.’ He undid his pants and jerked them down over his hips. She looked down at him and giggled. ‘Put that thing back.’ And he said, ‘Back isn’t where I’m gonna put it.’”
Olivia gave a shudder. “I was disgusted to the point that I thought about turning around and leaving. I didn’t want to watch them. But then Susan slapped at his groping hand. ‘I mean it. I’m not going to stay out here and have my dress ruined.’
“He tried to cajole her, playfully at first, and then more angrily. Finally, he called her names, yanked up his pants, and started walking away. Laughing, she told him not to go away mad.
“Then I watched her take off her panties and shoot them at him, like they were a rubber band. She told him to use them while he pleasured himself, and to think of her while he was doing it.” Olivia closed her eyes for a moment. “Of course she used much cruder terminology.”
She paused for a moment and drew a deep breath. “She straightened her clothing and fluffed her hair. As beautiful as she was, I was sickened by the sight of her. My expression must have conveyed it because when she saw me, she said, ‘What do you want?’ You know the inflection I’m talking about. She wasn’t embarrassed, or even curious to know how long I’d been there and what I’d seen. She just asked the question in that hateful tone.
