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The Anniversary

Page 28

by Amy Gutman


  been self-interest, not loyalty, that had kept their meetings se-26 S

  cret. Diane had had no intention of letting her paper get wind of 27 R

  this story.

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  Diane had kept her word, though. She’d obtained Callie’s —

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  Laura’s — approval before selling her book proposal. At first, 2

  she’d resisted Diane’s cajoling, but later she came around. In the 3

  end, it had all boiled down to money, and they’d finally struck a 4

  deal: Fifty thousand dollars up front and 10 percent of Diane’s 5

  royalties. At that point, Callie had had no idea of how much that 6

  might be. By now, she’d received several hundred thousand dol-7

  lars, and checks still trickled in. It was money she’d received from 8

  The Vanishing Man that had paid for the house in Merritt. It had 9

  paid her Windham College tuition, established a trust for Anna.

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  If she had it to do over again, she had no doubt that she would.

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  Still, she’d never entirely recovered from reading Diane’s book.

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  At first she’d been wildly angry, consumed with a sense of be-13

  trayal. She’d trusted Diane totally. Was this how Diane repaid 14

  her? She’d had thoughts of filing a lawsuit, even sat down with 15

  pen and paper. But when she reread the book, her reaction 16

  started to shift. Hard as she searched she couldn’t find a single in-17

  accuracy. Every word Diane had attributed to her — she’d really 18

  said those things. The only difference between the book and life 19

  was the things that had been left out. The days when nothing bad 20

  had happened. The days when Steven was kind.

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  Still, when you took out these interludes, this is what was left: 22

  an endless series of bright red flags she’d done her best to ignore.

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  The blood-soaked shirt. The mask and gloves. The unexplained 24

  absences. The blue Honda Civic that someone saw before Lisa 25

  Blake was killed. The Atlanta woman who’d had a frightening 26

  encounter with a man whose name was Steven. She’d met him at 27

  a bar, and he’d bought her a drink. It tasted strange, she said. He 28

  told her he’d get her another one, but when she looked up, he 29

  was gone. A grad student in biology, she’d taken the drink to be 30

  tested. And found that it was laced with GHB, the well-known 31

  date-rape drug.

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  But everything had been so confused back then, an alcohol-33

  soaked blur. Callie remembered nights on the couch, with her 34

  second bottle of wine. In her mind, she’d match up his absences S 35

  with the dates women disappeared, feel herself teeter dangerously R 36

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  at the edge of a precipice. Then, sharply, she’d pull herself back, 2

  tell herself it was crazy. Would he use his own name if he were a 3

  killer? Park his car in plain view? Would he leave evidence for 4

  her to find, the shirt, the knives, the bones? Later, she’d tried to 5

  tell herself that he’d wanted to be caught, but the experts traced 6

  his seeming carelessness to grandiosity.

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  She still remembered the first time she’d felt that lurching 8

  sense of doubt. A Friday night. She’d been watching TV after 9

  Steven cancelled a date. She’d been drinking wine, feeling sorry 10

  for herself, when a news report came on, a recent murder attrib-11

  uted to the infamous Vanishing Man. Her name was Lisa Blake; 12

  she was a Memphis college student. Her picture showed a bril-13

  liant smile, smooth, straight blonde hair.

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  It was like the twist of a kaleidoscope, as pieces fell into place.

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  She’d staggered up to find her date book. To find out where he’d 16

  been. Lisa Blake had disappeared on a Saturday night just two 17

  weeks before. Steven had cancelled that night, too. He’d said he 18

  had to work. In later weeks, she’d checked the dates of half a 19

  dozen murders. On none of these days did her calendar show that 20

  she’d been with Steven. She didn’t always make note of their 21

  dates, especially casual ones — a cheeseburger at Rotier’s, drinks 22

  at 12th & Porter. Still, the suspicion had taken root. She couldn’t 23

  let it go.

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  On some days, she was filled with doubt, filled with remorse 25

  and guilt. How could she have such terrible thoughts about the 26

  man she loved? No wonder Steven was losing interest. He knew 27

  who she really was. A desperate, jealous, angry girl, out to get her 28

  boyfriend. No wonder he’s not around, she thought. You’re out to 29

  destroy him.

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  When they moved to Nashville, Steven’s childhood home, the 31

  plan was that they’d live together. Steven went down to find a 32

  place, while she stayed back in Cambridge. But after finding an 33

  apartment, Steven decided to live alone. He was planning to ap-34

  ply to law school, that was his excuse. He’d need to study for the 35 S

  LSAT. He needed solitude.

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  For once, she stood up for herself, demanded an explanation. If 1

  he didn’t even want to live with her, why should she move to 2

  Nashville? To her astonishment, he started to cry, begging her to 3

  stay. “I need you,” he told her — the first and only time. “Please, 4

  please don’t leave me.” The tears had reassured her in a way his 5

  words could not. Finally, after so much time, she’d finally be-6

  lieved he loved her.

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  Once she arrived in Nashville, though, things went from bad 8

  to worse. And the more elusive Steven grew, the more frantic she 9

  became. She devoured dozens of self-help books, tried to improve 10

  herself. The problem was they all offered conflicting advice and 11

  information. They urged her to be understanding, to listen to his 12

  pain. Then they told her that she was making herself too easily 13

  available. She tried not calling him on the phone, not answering 14

  when he called her. He mentioned it a couple of times, but 15

  mostly he didn’t notice.

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  Foggy as this time was, it was clearer than what came later. Af-17

  ter his arrest, her life unfolded in an endless haze. Through days 18

  in the airless courtroom, she felt like a sleepwalker. And then one 19

  night, watching TV news, she suddenly snapped awake. She 20

  could still feel the chill that had passed through her as she lis-21

  tened to an interview with Dahlia’s brother. “He ruined my life.

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  He ruined my family,” Tucker Schuyler said. “Death is too good 23

  for him. Anyone who causes this sort of pain, they should be 24r />
  forced to suffer.”

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  The words cut clear through her. She felt their searing truth.

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  With a prescient chill, she knew then that this boy would never 27

  recover. He’d been late to meet his sister, and when he showed up 28

  she was gone. He’d live with that for the rest of his life, the bur-29

  den of his guilt. Until then, there’d been something abstract 30

  about Dahlia Schuyler’s death. In that instant, though, she 31

  clearly saw the truth of what Steven had done. He had destroyed 32

  this family. And she’d played a role in that. For the first time, it 33

  hit home, the degree of her complicity.

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  The ferry pitched high to one side as the wind cut across the S 35

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  boat. They were passing a rocky island now, lined with jagged 2

  trees. In the distance, rolling blue-gray hills rose against the sky.

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  The effect was one of layers upon layers, different shades of blue.

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  The air was growing colder. Callie went downstairs.

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  She slid into a seat in the almost empty cabin. The air, heavy 6

  and damp around her, smelled like salt and oranges. Behind her a 7

  heavy gray-haired woman was finishing off a snack. As she peered 8

  through a foggy window, Callie glimpsed land. At first there was 9

  just the rocky coast, then the occasional house. The woman be-10

  hind her gathered up bags. A sleeping man woke up. They must 11

  be getting close now. Callie’s stomach dipped.

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  Ten minutes later, the ferry heaved left, and a village came 13

  into view. A cluster of shingled buildings, a long wooden pier.

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  They were moving between two islands now through smooth, 15

  glassy water. The village grew larger and clearer as the ferry 16

  pulled closer in. She caught the words on several buildings.

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  Gray’s Yacht and Boat Builder. The Lobster Pound Restaurant.

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  Then she felt a solid bump as the ferry touched the pier.

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  She waited in her car until the ferry official signaled for her to 20

  pull out. Then, following a flatbed truck, she drove down the 21

  metal ramp. She couldn’t believe she was here. She couldn’t believe 22

  she was here. It was almost as if some outside force had taken con-23

  trol of her body.

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  She turned left out of the parking lot. No choice, it was a one-25

  way street. Slowly, she drove down a winding road past a library 26

  and post office. She saw an art gallery closed for the season, an 27

  American Legion post. Another curve in the sloping road, and 28

  then there it was: the shingled house where Diane Massey had 29

  spent her final days.

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  Because she’d seen its picture in the paper, she knew that this 31

  was the place. Quickly, she glanced in her rearview mirror. No 32

  cars or people in sight. She pulled into the gravel driveway and 33

  followed it up a hill. The driveway circled behind the house, 34

  shielding her car from view.

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  The soles of her boots scrunched on the gravel as Callie 36 R

  walked toward the back porch. Using her hands to cut the glare, 1 9 2

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  she peered through a back window. What she saw was a rustic 1

  old-fashioned kitchen. Nothing unusual. Stove. Refrigerator.

  2

  Table and chairs. Just what you’d expect. The porch wrapped 3

  around the house, and Callie continued on. There were three 4

  windows on the side of the house, two of them in the kitchen.

  5

  Through the last window in the row, she saw a living room.

  6

  Again, nothing striking. No sign of what had occurred.

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  It was actually a bit unnerving how untouched everything 8

  seemed. Callie realized that, at some unconscious level, she’d ex-9

  pected to find a crime scene. Yellow tape across the door, every-10

  thing cordoned off. But Diane hadn’t been killed at home. She’d 11

  been attacked some ways off. Besides, it had been days —

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  weeks — since the body was found.

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  When she reached the front door, Callie paused, reluctant to 14

  continue. Even with the wall of trees by the porch, somebody 15

  might see her. She reached for the knob and gave it a twist, sure 16

  that she’d find it locked. But to her surprise, the handle turned.

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  The door creaked open.

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  She gazed into a shadowy hall, its upper reaches veiled in dark-19

  ness. She felt poised for something, though she didn’t know what 20

  it was. She had no business being here, but something pulled her 21

  on. There wasn’t any logic to it, yet she couldn’t seem to stop.

  22

  Just five more minutes, she thought. Then I’m out of here.

  23

  She walked down the hallway toward a closed door that she 24

  assumed must lead to the kitchen. But just as she reached out 25

  to push it open, she heard an explosive crash. The house went 26

  black. She couldn’t see. Everything started to spin. Some ani-27

  mal instinct seemed to kick in, and she crouched close to the 28

  ground.

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  Time passed, seconds, then minutes. She wasn’t sure how long.

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  In the black silence of the looming house, she could almost hear 31

  her heart. Then, as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she 32

  glanced quickly around. No sign of another person. The hall was 33

  perfectly still. After another moment, she stood and walked to 34

  the front door. She opened it and looked outside. Nothing but S 35

  sky and trees.

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  She could see now what had happened: a breeze. The door had 2

  slammed shut.

  3

  Still shaky, she walked out onto the porch, closing the door be-4

  hind her.

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  It was reassuring to hear the familiar sound of her sturdy Su-6

  baru’s engine. She drove slowly down the driveway and turned 7

  back onto the road. For a while, she drove aimlessly, hardly pay-8

  ing attention, letting herself recover from the shock she’d had in 9

  the house. She passed a Chevy Blazer and a Ford Escort, turned 10

  right on an unmarked road, drove past an overgrown field full of 11

  boats, a cemetery, a farm.

  12

  After a time, she saw water again, narrow glimpses through 13

  trees. The dirt roads that led off into the woods didn’t seem to 14

  have street signs. Briefly she wondered about that, then figured 15

  that they weren’t needed. Anyone likely to be out here would 16

  know their
way around. But just as this thought went through her 17

  mind, she did see a sign. Black block letters on unfinished wood.

  18

  CARSON’S COVE, it said.

  19

  Callie stepped on the brake.

  20

  This was where it happened.

  21

  She pulled her car to the side of the road and checked for traf-22

  fic behind her. No cars, no people, nothing, just a long, flat 23

  stretch of pavement. She backed up to the entrance and turned 24

  left at the sign.

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  Bumping down the deeply rutted dirt road, she was glad for her 26

  all-wheel drive. She splashed through a muddy pothole, crunched 27

  over stray tree limbs. To either side were towering trees as far as 28

  she could see, the soft white of birch bark contrasting with the 29

  evergreens.

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  She’d driven about a mile when the road ended in a clearing.

  31

  It seemed she’d gone as far as she could. Now she’d have to walk.

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  A slender break in the wall of trees led to a narrow footpath. Cal-33

  lie parked, got out of the car, and headed for the opening.

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  Beneath the deep green canopy, she carefully picked her way.

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  She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she felt like she 36 R

  was looking for something. The path was littered with small 1 9 4

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  pinecones, twigs, rocks, and leaves. The air seemed colder than it 1

  had before, the sky a deeper gray. She passed a dilapidated shed.

  2

  Somewhere, birds were chirping. She heard the tapping of a 3

  woodpecker, impossibly sharp and fast. But by far the loudest 4

  sound of all was the wind rushing through the trees.

  5

  Again and again, she asked herself, What are you doing here?

  6

  The words became a sort of refrain as she moved down the path.

  7

  The impulse that had drawn her here wasn’t a simple thing. And 8

  it wasn’t just about Diane, although she played a role. It struck 9

  Callie that perhaps this trip was a pilgrimage of sorts. She’d come 10

  to do penance, that was part of it, to bear witness to the past. To 11

  pay tribute in some visceral way to all the women who’d died. For 12

  so long she’d tried not to think about them, not as individuals.

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