Honeymoon for Three

a lighted area. He placed the briefcase on the top of the car, opened it, and pulled out another sheet from inside the sketchpad. He turned and held it up so they could see it.
    Penny gasped. It was a nude drawing of her. “I never posed for that.” She glanced at Gary. He was gazing intently at the picture.
    “He could have drawn your head with somebody else’s body,” Detective Landon said. “Maybe from a magazine like Playboy .”
    “No, that’s me.” There was the mole on her left breast, prominently displayed. Gary saw it too, so there was no sense trying to cover it up. “I haven’t told you everything.” Better to tell the truth than let Gary’s imagination soar. She proceeded to tell the story of the Halloween party when she was in high school. She admitted that she passed out from drinking and was naked when she came to. Alfred could have drawn her then. Or done something worse.
    “Your hair in this picture is shorter than it is in the cheerleader picture,” Detective Landon said. “More like it is now.”
    “He could have drawn the picture recently, based on his memory. When we were together, he mentioned my mole. He threatened to tell Gary about the mole and the Halloween party. That was his way of trying to make me do what he wanted.”
    “He’s obsessed with you,” Detective Landon said. “That’s obvious.”
    “He exaggerated your navel,” Gary said.
    Penny had noticed it, too. “Alfred likes navels.” For some reason, it was more embarrassing for her to talk about that than if he had touched her breasts. She knew her face had turned scarlet, but she struggled on. “When he took me to see the sunset at the campground, he…he…played with my navel.”
    “And that’s when you hit him?”
    “Yes. And when we were driving together, I think he was playing with his own navel.”
    “This boy has a naval fetish,” Detective Landon said. “It may sound weird, but I can tell you from personal experience that people are weird. In my business, you see people as they really are.
    “In addition, you’re his obsession. People with obsessions will go to any lengths to attain the object of their obsession. They behave compulsively, doing crazy things the rest of us can’t imagine doing. It’s not your fault, Penny. You just have to stay away from him. Since he’s wanted for murder, if we catch him, the problem will end. But don’t feel guilty about him.”
    “I was feeling guilty,” Penny admitted. “I thought I might have led him on somehow.”
    Detective Landon didn’t have any more questions. He replaced the drawing in his briefcase and put it in his car. He left them, telling them that they should call him if they had any contact with Alfred, or remembered anything else that might be pertinent.
    After he drove away, Penny avoided Gary’s eyes. What did he think of the nude picture, or of her behavior at the Halloween party?
    “Let’s go back to the campground,” Gary said.
    To Penny, his voice sounded stiff. They rode in silence. Penny wondered if this would affect their relationship. She felt scared and sad at the same time.
    “I need to take a walk,” Gary said when they got there.
    Penny didn’t try to stop him. She went into the tent and bundled herself into the sleeping bag where she cried silently.
    ***
    Gary walked fast, partly to keep warm, partly to get the devils out of him. He circled the campground, looking for a blue Ford Falcon as he went. He saw only one car that came close to matching that description. The owners were at a picnic table nearby, playing cards and drinking by the light of a lantern. That was not Alfred’s car.
    After an hour of hard walking, Gary was exhausted—from the walk and from the activities of the day. He knew what he had to do. He walked back to their campsite and called to Penny from the door of the tent so that she wouldn’t be alarmed. She gave a soft response. He opened the flap and saw her face dimly lit by the light from his flashlight. She looked unhappy, and her face was streaked. He crawled inside and closed the flap. He couldn’t see her now. It was just as well.
    “I have a story to tell,” he said. “I told you that when I was a second-semester senior in college I fell in love with a first-semester freshman. She was seventeen, like you were at the time of the Halloween party. That was in the days of segregated dorms. Girls lived in one set of dorms, boys in another. Our dorms were a mile apart. Girls