In the Dark by Brian Freeman Page B

could have killed Laura?”
     
“I don’t know. It’s possible, but no one wanted to go down that road back then.”
     
“Because of Peter’s father?”
     
“Yes.”
     
“Who worked the case?”
     
Stride rubbed the scar on his shoulder where a bullet had violated his flesh. The wound twinged like a reminder. “Ray Wallace.”
     
Serena let out a slow breath. “You think Ray gave Peter a free pass?”
     
“Maybe.”
     
“I think you should tell me exactly what happened that night,” Serena said. “Don’t you?”
     
“Yeah.” Stride steepled his fingers and stared at the fire and didn’t say anything more.
     
“I could read the police file if you want,” Serena said. “Or talk to Maggie. But I’d prefer to hear it from you.”
     
Stride ran his hand through his wavy hair, the way he did when he was tense. He thought about the long hair he had worn back then. About Cindy’s fingers running through his hair while they were in the water.
     
“Cindy and I felt guilty for a long time,” he told Serena.
     
“About what?”
     
“About leaving Laura alone that night.”
     
“You couldn’t possibly have known what would happen.”
     
“Yes, but it was dark, and it was raining, and kids had been drinking, and we just let Laura go off into the woods. It was stupid. We should have stayed with her.”
     
Serena waited.
     
“A few of us were playing softball that night,” Stride continued. “I was there. So was Peter Stanhope. Cindy was supposed to meet me afterward, and the two of us were going to hang out by the lake. I didn’t even know that Laura would be with her, but she and Cindy stopped by the field while we were playing, and then they headed off by themselves. I was a little pissed. I didn’t want Laura around.”
     
“Why not?”
     
“That was supposed to be the night. The night. Cindy and I were planning to have sex for the first time.”
     
“Oh,” Serena said, drawing out the word. “Now I understand.”
     
“So I wasn’t exactly thinking with my brain.”
     
“I’m sure.”
     
“The thing is, Cindy and I talked about it later, and we knew something was wrong, but we didn’t care.”
     
“What do you mean, something was wrong?”
     
Stride frowned. “Someone was in the woods that night.”
     
     
     
     
 
     
     
 
     
 
     
     
    WHO KILLED LAURA STARR?
     
     
    By Tish Verdure
     
     
 
     
     
    SIX
     
     
 
     
July 4, 1977
     
     
 
     
I heard a growl of thunder beyond the trees, as if the storm were an animal getting closer. The path was dark, and that meant the sky over our heads had turned black, shutting out light through the trees. I felt the thick air like a weight on my chest when I breathed. You could almost see humid haze hanging in a cloud over the trail. My skin was dewy with sweat, and my long hair clung to it like vines. I wore a bikini top, shorts, and bare feet.
     
Laura was jittery as she walked beside me. She kicked impatiently at the dirt with her pink Flyers. Her eyes darted back and forth into the woods, as if she expected to catch someone spying. She wore jeans and a blue checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows. Her backpack was slung over one shoulder. She twisted the silver ring on her finger.
     
“I hope the rain holds off for the fireworks,” I said.
     
Laura looked up at the tops of the trees. She made a noise in her throat and didn’t reply.
     
I knew the Fourth of July parties would be washed out. Itwould be night in less than an hour, but before then, the deluge would begin. The air was perfectly calm now. Nothing moved. The brown birds that normally hopped around us in the dirt, looking for crumbs, had taken shelter. Every birch and pine looked as if it were holding its breath.
     
The summer storms always came quickly. One moment it would be still, and then in an instant, the wind would come alive, bending the young trees. The heavy clouds would sag open, gushing out rain. The night would turn to day in flashes as branches of lightning cracked from the ground