“I’m not staying. And why did you think I might come?”
“What? Oh.” She flicked her skinny wrist. “Let’s just say, after all my flirtatious innuendos, I hoped you would.” She touched his arm and batted her eyelashes up at him. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you realized you couldn’t resist me. I can be quite convincing, don’t you think?”
He looked down his nose at her. “Olivia Beckman is missing. You know anything about that?”
An unidentifiable expression flashed across her face before a frown settled there. “Missing? Oh, dear. Isn’t that a shame!”
He clutched her arms above the elbows and squeezed. “Where is she?”
“How should I know?”
He tightened his grasp.
“Ouch! You’re hurting me, Will. And what does it matter to you, anyway?”
“It matters plenty to me, Marva, and it should matter to you, as well. But, since you don’t seem to have a heart, I’m not surprised.”
If his words had rattled her, she didn’t let on but merely returned a sick sort of smile.
He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Listen to me, Marva. Earlier today, somebody overheard you telling Livvie you had some sort of photo to give her.” She jerked her blonde head back and stared up at him. “You told her it was a picture of her and Frank.”
“Who—who told you that?”
“Doesn’t matter. Fact is, you talked loud enough for someone else’s ears.” On a hunch, perhaps divine, and while he still had her somewhat confused, he went a step further. “You didn’t bother to stay out of sight when you came back to the restaurant tonight, either.” A hint of apprehension washed over her face. He was getting somewhere. “That means you were among the last people to see her before her disappearance. If anything happens to her, you’ll be counted as a suspect. How do you like that?”
He felt her stiffen. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t know anything about any…disappearance. All I did was give her the picture.”
“That right?” He decided to take his hypothesis further. “Why’d you have to lure her outside to give it to her?”
“I didn’t want to cause a disturbance.”
Bingo! He brought his face close to hers. “Marva, I know that you and Clem Dodd are in this together, and you need to understand that when he goes down, you’re going with him.”
She sniffed and tried to wrench out of his grip, but he wasn’t letting go. “Who?”
He pulled her closer, pinching till she rose up on her toes. “Don’t play dumb, Marva. If you met Hank Swain and Rudy Haskins, you also met Clem Dodd. They hung together like three peas in a pod—until Rudy and Hank went back to New York. It’s a known fact Clem is still in town.”
“All right, all right. So I’ve met him. He picks up his weekly supply of whiskey from Dotson. Big deal. It doesn’t prove anything about Olivia.”
He released her arms, and she began rubbing them as she looked at him with pouty eyes. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”
He gave his head a couple of confused shakes. Was she insane? She didn’t get it, not any of it. He stepped around her and walked across the room to the fireplace, above which the mantel displayed several framed photographs. It was time for a completely different approach. He picked up one of the pictures and studied it. “This you with your parents?”
“Yes. Put it back, please.”
“How old were you? Six? Seven?”
She came up to him, took the picture out of his hands, and carefully set it back in its place. Since she hadn’t answered his question, he leaned in to study the other pictures. All of them showed her at various ages with her father. “Where’s your mother in the rest of these?”
“Mother usually declined to have her picture taken.”
“Why is that?”
She frowned. “There were reasons.”
“All the bruises on her face, perhaps? I heard your father beat her.”
“Who told you such a thing?”
“Does it matter?”
“I suppose not.” She stared at the pictures. “Mother deserved it, you know. She was naughty. Daddy even told me.” Her voice had turned childlike, as if she’d retreated to some faraway place from her youth.
“Why do you say that?” he nearly whispered.
“Mother was unfaithful to Daddy with…with that man.” Like mother, like daughter, he wanted to say. “Daddy said she was naughty for doing that. Very naughty. And, let me tell you, she and everybody else got exactly what they deserved.”
Will didn’t like the abrupt turn things had taken, but a new sense of urgency made him press forward. First, though, he shot another prayer heavenward. Lord, if there’s something here that will lead me to Livvie, may it be revealed. “What do you mean, ‘Everybody else got exactly what they deserved’?”
She picked up one of the photos and caressed it as one might pet a kitten. “Daddy always told me they were evil.”
“Who was evil?”
On the mantel, a windup clock ticked about as loudly as a bomb about to detonate. Overhead, some kind of creature scampered across the roof. And the room was so warm that he had to wipe the dampness from his brow. He hoped these distractions would not deter her from talking.
“The Newtons, of course.”
“The Newtons.” A cord of confusion and dread wove itself around his chest, squeezing. He didn’t want to know, and yet he did. “Who are the Newtons?”
“Olivia’s parents. Who else?” In spite of the hot, dank air, shivery prickles surfaced on his skin. “Daddy had no choice, when it came right down to it.”
By now, he realized that Marva had started to slip down some kind of mental precipice, a narrow, precarious, cerebral cliff she’d been navigating for some time—years, probably—trying to keep her balance as sanity and utter lunacy pulled her in both directions. And he’d helped bring her to the edge. For a moment, he wondered if he ought to move to the window and motion Quinn inside.
He decided to play along, knowing that bringing Quinn on the scene would break whatever spell she’d come under. “What was it again that he had no choice but to do?”
“Why, burn the house. It was the only way to rid it of the evil. The plan was not for Olivia to escape, of course. But, since she did, Daddy said just to let it go.”
“That…seems reasonable,” he pushed out while fighting down an awful wave of nausea.
She stared off into space but kept stroking the photograph. “Clem’s coming along when he did worked out quite well, I think.”
“How do you mean?” Without realizing it, she’d just admitted to her participation in some insidious plot against Livvie. He licked his lips and swallowed, fearful that the bile at the back of his throat might come up. Lord God, she’s insane. Give me the words to say, and show me what to do, to bring this to a head. And please, Lord, keep Livvie safe, wherever she may be.
Marva scowled. “Things have always gone well for that girl. Even though she lost her parents, her house, and all her possessions, she just moved right in with her sister, like nothing ever happened. She got all the attention in school and always got good grades. Everybody always said, ‘Poor little Livvie.’ It got downright annoying. Nobody ever looked at me and said, ‘Poor Marva.’ Why, Mr. Emerson, my sixth-grade teacher, slapped me right across the face one time when I told him that my mother had an affair with Mr. Newton. He said I oughtn’t make up awful lies like that. That made me so mad, you know?” She shook her head and looked at him with a pathetic expression.
He nodded, feigning empathy. “What happened to your mother…after the fire?”
Again, Marva’s eyes took on that wild look. “Daddy locked her up back there.” She pointed to a closed door across the room. “That’s where she had to stay because she was so naughty. Daddy said.”
“How did she—how did your parents die?”
She shrugged and turned her mouth into a quick frown. “Mother had an apoplexy about a year after the
fire—at least, that’s what the doctors said, but I’m not so sure. I think Daddy might have helped her along.” Her matter-of-fact manner of stating this made him want to shake her. “I found an open container of rat poison in the lean-to out back two days after she died. When I asked Daddy about it, he just said he’d seen a big varmint by our garbage pile.” She paused, as if still pondering the matter. “As for Daddy, a bad case of pneumonia took him about twelve years ago. Do you know, only five people showed up at his funeral? Five people! Orville Dotson, the preacher from the Episcopal church, and some other fellas I didn’t even know. Isn’t that appalling?”
“Appalling” aptly described all the sickening information she’d just unloaded. If she’d had alcohol on her breath, he would have sworn she was drunk, but she didn’t. Plain loony was more like it.
“Let’s get some fresh air, shall we?” he suggested.
She brightened like a high-wattage bulb. “Sure. You want something to drink? It is awfully hot.”
“No, I was thinking more in terms of taking you for a ride with Quinn and me.”
“Really?” She smiled and looked down at her gown. “I have to go put on a dress.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
She laid a hand on his arm, and it was all he could do to keep from brushing it away. “I just knew I’d win you over eventually, Will,” she cooed. “I have this uncanny ability to attract men.” She cut loose a high-pitched giggle that bordered on madness. “I told Livvie she would never have you, that I had my eye on you from the first night I saw you. Do you remember that night, Will?”
His gut twisted into a tight, painful knot. “Yes, yes, I remember it well. When and where did you tell Livvie all this?” It took every ounce of effort to make his voice sound calm and friendly.
“Tonight, out in the alley behind her restaurant, silly, before Clem hauled her off. Of course, that black mongrel wasn’t the least bit happy about any of it, so I had to bash him over the head with a big rock.”
“Where did Clem take her, anyway?”
She shrugged. “How should I know? He didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask.” Oddly, he believed her. “Anyway, you’ll wait here while I go change?” Her voice still had that schoolgirl sound. Truly, she’d slipped into a world of make-believe, and all within a matter of minutes.
“Yep, I’ll wait right here.”
She opened a door off of the hallway and slipped inside. He could hear her humming a familiar tune, and he imagined her smiling at herself in the mirror as she touched up her makeup. “Where are you taking me?” she called out in singsong.
“Oh, Quinn and I will come up with something.”
“Maybe we could go dancing. You still owe me a dance, you know.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Or, we could go for an ice cream cone. Daydream Chocolates opened a sundae bar. Did you know that?” She hummed some more. “Shall I wear my red heels or my white flats? Well, I suppose it depends on which dress I choose.”
“I don’t think it matters.”
“Of course it does. Oh, won’t this be fun?”
He looked down at the floor and shook his head. Her getting locked up in prison—more likely, an asylum—hadn’t even occurred to her.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“Because thou hast made the Lord, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation; there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.”—Psalm 91:9–10
When Livvie awakened the next morning, tiny shafts of sunlight filtering through the window and the intermittent chirping of birds outside gave her reason to estimate the time to be around six. She wore a watch but couldn’t read the dial because of all the rope binding her wrists together. After closing her eyes tightly several times to squeeze the sleep from them, she assessed the dimly lit room, where a lone kerosene lamp still glowed in a corner. Overall, her abductor had been mostly civil—he’d even permitted her to eat a few crackers and take several sips of water a few hours ago—but she knew one false move on her part could easily make him turn on her.
Late last night, Clem had tied her to the mattress by wrapping her wrists and ankles several times, looping the rest of the rope under the mattress, and then bringing the ends together, secured in a double knot over her chest. Escaping would have been an impossible feat, unless she’d been able to figure out a way to pick up her bed and walk! Thankfully, he’d stretched out on a blanket on the floor several feet away, where he still slept, an empty bottle lying next to him. From the sound of his loud snoring, he would not wake up anytime soon.
In the stillness, she stared at the ceiling, trying not to think about how uncomfortable she was, and prayed—prayed for her precious boys, for Margie and Howard, and for Will. Will. Was he looking for her even now? Somehow, she knew he had to be, along with a host of others.
The sound of a dog barking lent her comfort, for it meant that someone lived nearby. If she could just get a glimpse of the surroundings, she might be able to determine her location, even if she couldn’t do a thing about it.
“Behold, the eye of the Lord is upon them that fear him, upon them that hope in his mercy.” She recalled the psalm she’d memorized several weeks ago and thanked the Lord for bringing it to her mind again. She might not know where she was, but the Lord surely did, and He had His eye firmly fixed on her. Now, if He would just reveal her location to others!
Clem rolled over with a whiffling noise and mumbled something unintelligible. She turned her head to look at him, holding her breath for fear he’d awaken. She wanted him to sleep forever, and yet her need to use the privy almost overruled that wish. Still, a sigh of relief escaped her lungs when he settled back into a deep, silent slumber. In the meantime, she would work to loosen her wrists, which were now bloodied from the rope’s abrasive rubbing.
Minutes melded into hours as daylight emerged fully, but dark clouds held the sun at bay and blanketed the room in a gloomy shade of gray-green, now that the kerosene lamp had run out of fuel. Distant rumbles of thunder spoke of impending rain, dampening Livvie’s spirits the more.
On the floor, Clem had begun to shiver but did not wake up. Livvie’s stomach clenched with hunger, and her parched throat longed for water, but her full bladder forbade her to dwell upon her thirst for too long. She continued to send unceasing prayers to the Lord—prayers of praise that she’d made it through the night relatively unscathed by this insane brute of a man who held her captive, prayers proclaiming her surrender to God’s will for her life, prayers of confession, pleading forgiveness for the year she’d harbored bitterness and anger toward her heavenly Father, and prayers for protection over her sons and guidance for those in search of her. Interspersed with her prayers, she recited every verse of Scripture that came to mind, many of them incomplete scraps of passages she’d once known in full, thanks to her childhood Sunday school teachers.
Just when she thought Clem would sleep the day away, he stirred, opened his eyes, sat up with a start, and stared at her. Her first thought was that he looked like a wild man, with his faded brown hair sticking up in greasy clumps, his unshaven face smudged, and his colorless eyes cold and stony. Even in the dim room, she spotted a glossy sheen on his forehead—odd, since yesterday’s heat had escaped out the open windows, replaced by a nippy dampness. She was thankful for the wool blanket covering her.
“Now that you’re awake, I would like to use the outdoor facility,” she stated.
“Is that any way to say good mornin’ to your lover?” His voice held no hint of sarcasm. He rolled up his sleeve to look at the wound left by Reggie, and, though he tried to hide it, she saw him wince with pain. He’d obviously made no effort to clean the area, and she wouldn’t be surprised if a raging infection had taken hold.
“Are you going to untie me? It sounds as if a storm is moving in, and I’d like to go outside before the rain comes.”
“Shut up, would you?”
She clamped her lips together and heaved a loud sigh
through her nostrils. As much as she still wanted to spit in Clem’s face, she told herself to toe a very careful, straight line, maybe even pretend to care for him. Otherwise, she’d blow her chances, however remote, of escaping his evil clutches.
***
That dimwit of a dog had done a real number on his arm. Not only was the bite mark red and swollen, but it felt hot to the touch and had white pus oozing from it. To top matters off, Clem’s entire arm throbbed, making him feel queasy and jittery. When he stood up, a wave of dizziness took him by surprise, so he grabbed hold of a chair to regain his footing.
“Did you ever clean and bandage that dog bite?”
Livvie’s voice brought him out of his fog. He wiped his sweaty brow and turned to look at her. “It ain’t nothin’.” No way would he let on how weak he felt or how much his arm ached. What a lousy fix. He’d brought her here to make her his bride, and now he didn’t have the energy of a two-toed sloth. The predicament put a genuine damper on his mood.
“I could probably clean it for you. You’d need to go out and get some fresh water. Do you have any soap?”
He didn’t know what to make of her. He’d thought she’d need more time to warm up to him. Could it be that she’d already come to appreciate her new home? He angled her a suspicious glare. “I might.”
“And a bucket?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, unbind me and take me out to the privy, and then, on the way back, we’ll get a bucket of water, you’ll dig out the soap and find some cloth, and I’ll cleanse the wound.”
He cut loose a dry chortle. “I ain’t so dumb that I can’t figure out what you’re doin’. You just want those ropes off so you can run away.”
“I won’t run off, I promise.”
“Am I s’posed to believe you?”
She lay there, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “I might be able to rustle you up some breakfast, too”—she lifted her tied hands as far as the rope would allow—“but not in this useless state. Putting some food in your stomach would probably make you feel better.”
She had a point. He walked over, bent down, and proceeded to work on loosening the main knot, which kept her tied to the mattress. Before he went too far with it, though, he removed the pistol from his pocket, cocked it, and touched the muzzle to her forehead. She went as frozen as a departed duck on ice. “I’ll untie the ropes for now, but, be assured, I’ll use this if you try anythin’ funny.” Unblinking, she nodded several times and gave a hard swallow. He continued loosening the knot. “Just so we understand each other.”
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