The Anniversary (38 page)

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“Sure,” he said. Then turning, “You coming up, Callie?”

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Callie took one more look around the rapidly clearing room.

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Most of the dancers had gone back upstairs. Still no sign of Rick.

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“My ankle’s hurting a little bit. I think I’ll sit this one out. But 5

I’ll come back upstairs with you. I think I’ll just watch.”

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In their absence, the dance hall’s temperature seemed to have 7

shot up. The crowd had grown as the evening passed, and the 8

room was now jam-packed.

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At the next break in the music, Martha and Tod stepped onto 10

the floor, joining one of the long lines that ran the length of the 11

hall. As the music started up again, Callie started to walk, slowly 12

edging her way around the room’s chair-lined periphery. A sharp 13

cool breeze blew in through a window, and she paused there 14

gratefully. A boy with a pierced eyebrow asked her to dance. Cal-15

lie politely said no. Continuing around the room, Callie watched 16

the dancers. Again and again, she scanned the crowd, but she 17

didn’t see Rick anywhere.

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h

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GODDAMN it.

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She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t.

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Crying was totally lame. And besides, it would wreck her 23

makeup.

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Posy Kisch pressed two fingers against the skin beneath her 25

eyes, carefully blocking the tears that threatened to erupt. Her 26

lower eyelashes left traces of black on the tips of her black-nailed 27

fingers. She wiped them off on her short black skirt, bought spe-28

cially for tonight. She wished she had a mirror to check the rest 29

of her face. The dark red lipstick. The white foundation. The 30

spots of pink on her cheeks.

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But then, why did she give a fuck?

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What was the point, anyway?

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She was such a stupid girl.
Stupid, stupid girl.

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When Nathan agreed to come with her tonight, she’d thought 35 S

that it meant something. She’d thought that it would be almost a 36 R

date. The two of them together. There were always tons of people 2 1 2

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at a contra dance, but Nathan wouldn’t know them. And since 1

he was incredibly shy, she’d expected he’d stick with her.

2

When that bitch Callie Thayer had walked in the room, she 3

could hardly believe her eyes. Of course, Martha was a regular, 4

but she’d never before brought Callie. It had taken Nathan about 5

five seconds to figure out she was here. She was old enough to be 6

his mom. The whole thing was totally stupid. Besides, Callie
had
7

a boyfriend. It fucking wasn’t fair.

8

She was standing outside in the parking lot crowded with dark 9

cars. From back inside, she could hear the music, the sound of 10

people dancing. Looking up at the silvery stars, she wondered 11

what the point was. She’d hated high school. She hated college.

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Maybe she hated life. She had never fit in anywhere. Maybe she 13

never would.

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Again, she felt the tears rush up. Again, she pushed them back.

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Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

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Don’t be a stupid girl.

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She’d thought she was all alone out here, but someone was 18

calling her. “Hey. Over here.” The voice was urgent, low.

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Confused, she turned toward the sound. It seemed to be com-20

ing from someplace close, but she didn’t see anyone. Maybe back 21

behind the building. She couldn’t see back there. Most of the 22

parking lot was well lit, but that area was darker.

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“Nathan?” she said hesitantly.

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“Yeah. Over here.”

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“Why are you talking like that?” she said. “Where are you, any-26

way?”

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Then there was a light in her face, and she couldn’t see any-28

thing. “Nath — ” she said. But before she finished, hands closed 29

around her neck.

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Monday, May 8

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n the silence of the Windham library basement, Callie found 2

her carrel, the place where she always sought refuge when she 3

had to get some work done. The carrel wasn’t really hers — it was 4

assigned to an honors senior — but the only sign of its rightful 5

occupant were some books about ancient France.

6

As she started to unload her backpack, she gave herself a pep 7

talk. It was understandable, she told herself, that she hadn’t kept 8

up in school. Diane’s murder. Melanie’s attack. The overnight 9

trip to Maine. It was hard to believe that all these things had 10

happened in a few short weeks. At least Melanie was doing bet-11

ter, and that was a huge relief. When Callie called the hospital 12

several days ago, she’d learned that Melanie had been released.

13

She’d sent her a card and a spring bouquet but hadn’t telephoned 14

yet, unsure if Melanie would welcome the call, under the circum-15

stances.

16

But she had to put these thoughts aside, at least for a couple of 17

hours. She was here to focus on the term paper due in just two 18

weeks. Today she’d look over the assigned readings and settle on 19

a topic. She wanted to write about memory but needed to find a 20

thesis. From a loose-leaf notebook, she pulled out a copy of an ex-21

cerpt from a Harvard psychologist’s book. It discussed what the 22

author called memory’s “sins.” There were seven of them.

23

Most intriguing, Callie thought, were the so-called sins of 24

commission — cases where a memory was inaccurate or un-25

wanted. Of the four sins in this category, the first was misattri-26 S

bution — for example, believing that a friend had told you 27 R

something you’d read in the paper. The concept seemed familiar, 2 1 4

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and Callie wondered why. Then she realized that it reminded her 1

of the reading on unconscious transference.

2

Farther down, she discovered that there was, in fact, a link.

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This excerpt, too, recounted the story of the innocent sailor ac-4

cused of robbery because in the past he’d bought tickets from the 5

victim of the crime. Again she read about the psychologist 6

wrongly accused of rape due to the fact that, during the rape, the 7

victim had watched him on TV.

8

Such mistakes, the author wrote, may be traced to “binding 9

failure,” the failure to connect a memory to its proper time and 10

place. Now here was a topic she could write about, one that 11

would hold her attention. That someone could be sure they knew 12

something and yet be totally wrong.

13

She was thinking that she should go find the book when a 14

shiver passed through her body. Suddenly, it struck her how alone 15

she was down here. She’d turned on the light above her carrel, 16

but the book-lined stacks were dark. Behind her a row of empty 17

carrels faded into the shadows. She looked up sharply, quickly, as 18

if expecting to see something, a flicker of light, a movement, as 19

someone tried to hide. There was something suspect about the 20

stillness; it felt like a sort of trick. Again she peered up, around, 21

craning her neck to see. She had an impulse to speak out loud, to 22

test the strength of her voice. Would anyone hear her if she 23

called out? Could someone have followed her?

24

Right then, she wanted to grab her things and head for the el-25

evator, for the populous realm of the reading room, the busy ref-26

erence desk. But another part of her sternly exhorted herself to 27

stay put. The killer had taken a lot from her, but she wouldn’t 28

give him this. She’d come here to get some work done. She’d stay 29

until she finished.

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She sat there another few seconds, heart pounding in her 31

chest. Then, her stomach growled, a homely sound, and she hit 32

on a compromise. On the other side of the basement was a lounge 33

with vending machines. She’d take a break, have a quick snack, 34

then get back to her reading.

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Her footsteps sounded unnaturally loud on the gray cement R 36

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floor. Towering shelves of dusty books floated in the vaultlike 2

gloom. In a movie, this would be the scene where the heroine 3

was attacked. A sense of foreboding washed over her, and she 4

walked a bit faster.

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She stepped into the bleak, windowless room as if into a bath.

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Even the harsh fluorescent lights seemed cheerful and welcom-7

ing. Two young women sat at a table, heads bowed over books.

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One of them tapped a foot against her chair in a steady, rhythmic 9

beat. Another time the sound might have been annoying, but 10

right now it calmed her.

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From the vending machines that lined the wall, Callie bought 12

Raisinettes and cheese crackers. She ate the candy standing up, 13

scanning a bulletin board. Yoga classes. A desk for sale. Someone 14

seeking a roommate. After she finished the Raisinettes, she de-15

cided to get some coffee. She deposited her thirty-five cents. The 16

machine spit out a cup.

17

Back at one of the tables, she sipped the tepid brew. The un-18

easiness she’d felt just minutes ago had totally disappeared. Her 19

heart was back to its normal rate; she could hardly feel its beat-20

ing. Once again, her mind was clear. She could think about her 21

paper.

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Misattribution.

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Unconscious transference.

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She asked herself why these theories had such a hold on her.

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Mistakes — sins — of memory. Is that what she’d once hoped 26

for? That the women who thought they’d seen him had somehow 27

all been wrong? For a moment, she had the crazy thought that 28

maybe they
had
been wrong. That whoever had killed Diane in 29

Maine had also killed the others. If that were true,
if that were
30

true,
Steven had been innocent. But, of course, it was just a fan-31

tasy, and a far-fetched one at that. She had no doubt of Steven’s 32

guilt. She had no doubt of her own.

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So who had killed Diane? Who’d brought her the watch and 34

letter? With the force of an unpleasant habit, her mind moved to 35 S

Lester Crain.

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She had the impression that the Maine state police had writ-2 1 6

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ten him off as a suspect. But despite their confidence, she wasn’t 1

convinced, at least not all the way. It just made so much sense 2

that Crain would be the one. He’d admired Steven, owed him his 3

life. No one knew where Crain was. This notion that the signa-4

ture didn’t change seemed somewhat dubious. Psychological the-5

ories were, by definition, always works in progress. Theories were 6

true until proven wrong. That’s the way it worked. The fact was, 7

when she thought of Diane’s killer, she pictured Lester Crain. Or 8

not pictured, exactly, since she couldn’t recall what he looked 9

like. She must have seen pictures when he escaped, but she 10

couldn’t remember them.

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“Hey, Callie. What’s going on?”

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She raised her head with a jolt to find Nathan there beside her.

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Right away, Callie stood up.

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“I was just getting back to work,” she said. “How’re you doing, 15

Nathan?”

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“How come we never hang out anymore?” His voice had a 17

plaintive tone.

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She turned and faced him squarely. Okay, the moment of 19

truth.

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“Nathan, you need to find friends your own age. I’m sorry, but 21

I’m just too busy. I have a job. I have a daughter. I have other 22

friends.”

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There. She’d finally said it. But instead of feeling relieved, now 24

she just felt bad. Nathan’s face seemed to crumple up, and she 25

thought that he might cry.

26

“C’mon, Nathan,” she said with a laugh, trying to lighten the 27

mood. “You’ve got other friends too. I think Posy really likes 28

you.”

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Nathan shook his head. “No chance. She ditched me at that 30

stupid dance in Greenfield.”

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“Ditched you. You mean broke up with you?”

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“No. Just left without me. I saw her talking to this other guy. I 33