The Drifter(94)

She took a long swig from the ice-cold can and passed it to Betsy.

“We should get back out front or Teddy’s going to leave me here,” said Caroline, and they walked toward the front drive.

“So, by then it’s late, at least three, and he drove me back home. I remember he was swerving a little bit, but I wasn’t too worried. Then we got to the parking lot and we started making out, and he got right to it. I mean, I was sloppy and drunk and just kind of fumbling, but he just had his hand up my skirt right away. He wasn’t a big guy, so I was surprised by how strong he was. He had one hand on my shoulder, pulling at the neck of my T-shirt and pressing me against the seat of the car. And the other one, I mean, this dirty rough hand was all over me, he fingers were inside me, and he started saying stuff.”

“Saying stuff? What do you mean saying stuff?” Betsy couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“At first I just thought it was drunk guy stuff, like asking me if I liked it, calling me a slut, telling me not to fight it, just to let it happen. And then he reached over and opened the passenger door and he kind of jumped over me and was trying to lift me out of the car. It was creepy, and I started to catch on, like, wait, this guy isn’t just a stupid frat boy. I have no idea who he is. So I just said, ‘You know, I can get it from here. I’m tired. I just want to go to bed. Alone.’ And he had both of my wrists in his hands.”

“How did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me before?” asked Betsy.

“I tried! You wouldn’t even talk to me. I came in the apartment that night and tried to wake you up, but I was so drunk, and all you could say was how creepy I was. I just wanted to forget about it.”

“But how are you still alive?”

“I mean, exactly at that moment, I was twisting my wrists free from his grip and a truck full of these idiot guys pulls up. Do you remember those neighbors, the KAs who used to blast Garth Brooks at their parties? I mean, they pulled up in a giant pickup. There must have been four or five of them in back. It was crazy. What the hell were they doing out at that hour? Cow-tipping? Then they did that whole ‘Miss, is this gentleman causing you any trouble?’ thing, even though I am sure they were just coming home from a gang rape or something. They were real charmers, right? Anyway, he must have been spooked, because he let me go. Then he watched me walk right up those steps to our front door.”

“So what does all of this mean?”

“I guess it means that I’m just as guilty as you are, maybe more. You know, in all of the interviews McRae did, he talked about Ginny and the women he killed, but he followed others, too. He was trying to portray himself as a criminal mastermind possessed by a split personality. He didn’t want people to think it was random, that he got the wrong girl. So there was always a part of me that wondered . . .”

“That it should have been you. Or it could have been you,” said Betsy. “I know. I feel the same way.”

She stared at Caroline, trying to process everything she had told her. They had both been struggling all of those years, alone.

“Of course, I hadn’t known it was him until years later when I saw his photo in the paper. It took me a while to connect the dots, but when I did, that’s when I really started going off of the rails.”

Betsy remembered that night with the grocery bags, when the perfectly formed memory of Scottie McRae on a bike at Taco Bell fluttered gracelessly into her brain like a moth.

“But Betsy, here is my point: I led that guy straight to our front door, but I didn’t kill her. Scottie McRae killed her. I couldn’t have saved her. You couldn’t have saved her. If you’d walked in five minutes before you did, he would have killed both of you. If you’d walked in two hours before, you’d be the dead one. If Ginny had stayed at the sorority house that night, like she said she was going to, like she promised me she would, maybe she would have lived for another day. Maybe he would have come back again and again until he got her? Maybe I would have been there that time and I would be gone, too? The unlikely scenario is that he would have just given up and walked away. And I’ll say it again. The only thing you maybe should have done differently is to tell the truth after it happened. And the only thing you can do now, going forward, is to keep telling the truth, to yourself, to Gavin, to me, to everybody. And one thing that’s true is that you were a really good friend to Ginny.”

“Wow, Car,” Betsy said, shaking her head in disbelief. She reached out and pulled Caroline toward her, hard. Caroline resisted at first, but she softened in her friend’s arms. Teddy’s car pulled up in front of them and he rolled down the passenger window.

“I’m glad you two are hugging it out,” he said, “but I feel I need to remind you it’s been a long-ass day.”

Betsy was dazed and drained, and certain she would hurl again. Betsy let go, reluctantly, since she loved the way Caroline’s long arms felt wrapped around her neck, after all these years.

“Caroline, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I made you lie for me. I’m sorry I disappeared. I was a mess. You were always stronger than me.”

“I think we both know that’s not true,” she said, taking Betsy’s face in her hands, the way Betsy did with Remi when she wanted to stop time for a minute, remember the little golden flecks in her green eyes. “He’d been watching her for days, after we ran into him when we were out buying poster boards. I didn’t recognize him right away when I first saw his picture, but then I put it all together.”