Nice Girls(41)

Olivia had loved to bike on the trails, but she especially loved to roam off course. We found graffiti painted on rocks, in caverns. We brought snacks and picnicked in the dirt, carefully collecting the trash in our backpacks. Other times we followed a tiny creek that crept up out of the earth, wondering where it led, what lived near it. We didn’t talk so much as explore, and we had multiple sites that we revisited.

But there was one image that I could see clearly in my mind: Olivia’s back had been turned to me. She was peering down at the drop below.

“There’s a cliff,” I said softly.

Kevin looked confused.

“Most of the park is pretty flat, Mary.”

“It wasn’t a big cliff. I just know there’s one in the park.”

“Jesus,” Kevin muttered. “Do you know where it would be?”

I hadn’t set foot in the park reserve in years. I hadn’t gone back since my days with Olivia. I could remember the moment at the cliff, but I couldn’t recall how to get there. The woods looked familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Slowly, I shook my head.

Kevin sighed and checked his watch.

“It’s a quarter to noon. We should be heading back for break.”

“Yeah.”

Kevin bent over and pushed his branch into the ground, a couple of feet between a tree and the stream. It was a marker for later, when Kevin would inevitably return to sweep the area.

As we joined the other searchers on the trail, I tried to rack my brain for the location of the cliff.

“You still shocked about me and Olivia?” Kevin asked.

“Kind of,” I said. “Did anyone know about you guys?”

“Olivia wanted to take it slow, I think. After the shit her exes pulled, she had a lot of trust issues.” Kevin sounded sad. “I guess with me, she was waiting for us to be serious before announcing it to anyone. And I was patient. I didn’t care how long it would take for her to trust me.”

With Olivia, it was hard to tell what her motives were. But she never struck me as the type who was slow in a relationship. If anything, she would have moved too quickly, then gotten bored. She would have thrived on the uncertainty, the passion, the drama around love.

Kevin provided something different—he would have been devoted, obsequious, and kind to her. He was different from her type, and I had no idea if that was a good or bad thing.

“I guess in hindsight, I was lucky that Olivia was quiet about us,” Kevin said.

“Why’s that?”

“Because most violent crimes against women are committed by a significant other. Looking at the statistics, who do you think the police would’ve suspected first?”

I felt the skin on my neck go cold. Kevin was staring straight ahead on the trail. I looked around, relieved by the people and dogs who surrounded us.

“If people had known about me and Olivia, I’d be prime suspect number one,” said Kevin. “They would have suspended me from the force. Hell, they probably wouldn’t even let me be here right now.”

“I believe you,” I said. But I was being polite, as always.

“If I had killed Olivia, I wouldn’t be telling you this, Ivy League.”

“Sure.”

“And I trust you, Mary. You’re smart. You don’t follow things blindly.”

“Course not,” I replied.

A couple of dogs barked in the distance. The main trail grew more crowded as the search groups returned for break. The couple in front of us talked about a cabin rental they were considering. The kids behind us complained about their sweaty costumes. People were so close by that Kevin and I stayed quiet.

As we approached the exit, I smelled charcoal smoke and grilled meat in the air. Out in front of the park’s pavilion, there were some plastic tables set up in a long serving line, stacked with plastic utensils, plates, and tinfoil platters full of sandwich buns, tater tots, coleslaw, and cookies. There was a stack of water bottles and a cooler at the end of the line. Mr. Willand and a volunteer were cooking on two separate charcoal grills while Mrs. Willand was ushering people into a line with a tight smile. The crowd seemed to speed over, eager for lunch.

The event was strange. After we’d gone looking for a missing woman, we were having a picnic. It seemed morbid. But if the Willands wanted people to keep searching in the cold, then they needed to entice them with food. They had the resources to do it.

Dad, Mr. Obermueller, and John were already eating near the park map. Kevin’s dad was gulping down his hamburger. As we followed the crowd, Mr. Obermueller picked up his megaphone.

“Hi, folks!” he boomed. “The Willands and the rest of the search committee want to thank you all for coming today and helping us out. We know it’s cold, but we hope this free lunch shows our gratitude to you all.”

There was some clapping and a few cheers.

“I also think now might be a good time to pray and reflect as we’re all together. My best friend from college, Mr. John Stack, has offered to lead us in prayer.”

John Stack went up to take the megaphone. He looked less than thrilled to be standing in front of a crowd, but he extended a hand toward all of us.

“Please bow your heads,” said John. His voice was reminiscent of thunder crashing upon us. I didn’t need to look up to know that everyone obeyed. “Blessed Father, thank you for bringing each soul out here to the park reserve. In this time of great need, you have shown us your love and compassion by bringing your flock together—”