He strutted across the porch and went into the house. I'd had such impressive success with my three witnesses that I knew absolutely nothing I hadn't known before, except that Dahlia and Kevin had had a spat, Jim Bob was in financial trouble if Petrel stayed gone, and the game was still scheduled for Thursday afternoon.
Heather Riley gaped at Darla Jean, her jaw going up and down as if she was chewing taffy. "Say that again," she said in a stunned voice.
"Now I'm only trying to talk to you for your own good, Heather, 'cause it's not healthy to keep stuff like that bottled up inside you. It'll give you ulcers, and your grades will go down and you'll get kicked off the pom-pom squad."
"Just repeat what you said," Heather commanded.
"I heard Elsie McMay tell my ma about what that horrible man did to you," Darla Jean said, worried that she ought not to have brought up the subject if Heather didn't want to talk about it, after all. But she had, so she plunged ahead and explained to Heather about hearing that she'd been raped by Lamont Petrel and run down by a truck and been so traumatized that she hadn't told anybody.
Heather hugged herself as she listened to the story, and when Darla Jean ran down, she merely said, "So I'm traumatized, huh?"
"It's most likely caused amnesia. That's my opinion, 'cause I saw a show on television where the exact same thing happened. Staci said she thought maybe you just wanted to spare Beau Swiggins from having to beat the guy up, but Rene and Debbi and Melanie all agreed that was stupid, because Beau's bound to find out sooner or later."
"Beau doesn't know?"
"Of course not, Heather! You think we'd talk about you behind your back?"
"Is he still dating that Janine from Emmet with the big boobs and fat ankles?"
"Yeah, but Billy Dick said he asked if you've dated anybody since you two broke up. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but Billy Dick said Beau said he'd beat the shit out of anybody that even asked you out."
"Is Janine putting out for him?" Heather asked. When Darla jean nodded, she said, "All the way?"
"But I think he still loves you. He's just going with Janine to get back at you for not being a cheerleader for the SuperSavers. Billy Dick shared the beer with him, but it wasn't the same, I guess."
"I guess not," Heather said distractedly. The lurid story had upset her initially, along with the knowledge that every last soul in town-except for Beau, apparently-had been discussing it nonstop. Somehow Jim Bob putting his hand on her knee had now escalated into some guy named Petrel raping her on the office floor and leaving her traumatized to the point of amnesia.
She considered the possibility that she had been raped and then blocked it out, but decided that was nonsense because she remembered every last second of the tacky interview. She'd stomped out of the office and was stomping home when she ran into Miss Estes, who'd noticed Heather's red cheeks and mentioned the risk of heatstroke and so had ended up hearing about Jim Bob.
And Beau was doing it with Janine, who'd do it with her pa and all her uncles if they asked nicely. It wasn't Beau's fault he was going with a slut who probably flopped down on her back, spread her knees, and told him it was open house.
He'd been pissed when she refused to be a cheerleader, and he'd even said she was just a prude and a cockteaser who wouldn't prove that she loved him by taking a blanket to a particular place beside Boone Creek where a lot of love was proved on a nightly basis and quite a bit more on weekends.
But how was he going to feel when he found out she had been raped and was currently amnesiated? Awful. He'd feel downright awful and be sorry and beg her to go steady again.
"Are you okay?" Darla Jean asked. "You have the funniest look on your face. Are you beginning to remember?"
Heather massaged her temples and, without a whole lot of effort, assumed a bewildered expression. "I think I am, but just bits and pieces. It's kinda like a puzzle with a whole lot of pieces missing. The trauma's still there, just like you said, but I'm in a foggy tunnel and it's dark and I can't quite make out anything."
Darla Jean was impressed. "That's spooky, ain't it? Can you remember what he did when he threw you down on the floor? Did you cry or kick him? Did it…hurt when he…did it?"
"It hurt something terrible. It was the worst thing in my entire life, and I'm just going to have to face it before I develop ulcers." She looked down at her bedspread while she did some more remembering. "I struggled with all my might. I yelled and kicked, but he held my wrists in one hand while he ripped off my clothes with the other."
"Oh, my gawd," Darla Jean said. She sat down next to Heather and patted her knee. "Then what happened?"
"I cried out for Beau," she said simply. "It was silly, of course, 'cause there weren't no way he could hear me and come save me from being brutalized by that monster."
"He's gonna absolutely die when he hears that. It's gonna cut his heart in pieces like it was a buzz saw ripping into a log."
"But we can't let him find out. You've got to swear to keep this between you and me, Darla Jean. Beau'd get so upset, he'd go kill the guy, then he couldn't play football and maybe get a college scholarship. It'd ruin his life."
"I won't tell a living soul," Darla Jean vowed, almost in tears from hearing all this nobleness and sacrifice. She knew Billy Dick would be just as touched, although she'd have to make him swear not to repeat it to anyone, ever. Especially not to Beau.
"That was Joyce," Ruby Bee said as she replaced the receiver and gave Estelle a grim look. "She called to warn me because that fellow stayed here and might come back. I saw him the other night, you know. Well, at least I heard him creeping around outside, but it was too dark to do more than catch a glimpse of him."
"And that makes about as much sense as turkey potpie," Estelle said in that snooty voice Ruby Bee couldn't stand. "Warn you about what fellow?"
"Lamont Petrel," Ruby Bee said in her unfriendly voice, which she knew Estelle couldn't stand. "Joyce called to say Petrel is on a rampage raping women all across the county. She thinks she saw somebody in the backyard way out by those forsythia bushes by the fence. She's locked in the house and calling to warn everybody."
"Does Arly know? It seems to me she's the one who ought to be doing something-if the story's true. I for one am not sure. Lamont seemed like a real gentleman to me. When you introduced us, I thought for a second he was going to kiss my hand like they do in movies about foreigners."
"Now who's talking turkey potpie?"
"Well, Miss Mind Reader, it's a relief to know you're keeping track of everything I think. Why doncha tell me what I'm thinking now? Go ahead; I'll think of a number between one and a hundred and you tell me what it is."
"We don't have time for that kind of foolishness, not with a rapist in town. I'd better call Arly and have her get the sheriff over to Joyce's before something tragic happens." Ruby Bee dialed the number at the PD, and when there was no answer, the number at the apartment, getting grimmer with each ring. At last, a small voice answered. "Hammet, where's Arly?" Ruby Bee demanded.
She listened for a minute, then told him to stay in the apartment with the door locked. "Hammet says she went out to talk to folks and he doesn't know who or where or when she'll be back," she reported to Estelle. "I guess we ought to call the sheriff ourselves, even if it is long distance."
She was reaching for the telephone when Estelle grabbed her wrist and said, "Wait a minute. I just thought of something."
"I already told you we don't have time for parlor games. That maniac might be breaking into Joyce's house right this second, or cutting across Perkins's pasture and heading this way to attack you and me."