Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

She kept her eyes shut, struggling to maintain her balance and to not keel over like a capsized boat.
    She stretched her right hand out, tentatively searching for support, and curled her fingers around the edge of the window curtain.
    That was all she was able to do. The small movement still made her feel sick to her stomach, so she clung to the coarse fabric, waiting for the pain to abate.
    Noises continued to filter through the fuzz in her brain. Two voices sounded in the air behind her, rising and falling like the swells of a stormy sea. Haviland’s barking continued and Olivia could detect the furious scratching of her dog’s claws against a door.
    Her first lucid thought was,
Judson must have shut Haviland in the bathroom
.
    The clarity didn’t last long, however, and her body sagged even lower until her right hip was resting on floor. The contact with solid ground helped and the nausea receded. After a few more seconds, the world began to regain its balance. She no longer experienced the sensation that the earth was tilting and if she didn’t hold on to the curtain tightly enough, she’d slide right off the edge.
    “You can do whatever you want to me, you sick bastard!” Millay growled without a trace of fear. “But it’s over. My friend was on the other end of the phone when you came in and she’s already called the cops. There’s a certain chief of police who’s going to enjoy kicking your ass all over town.”
    Rawlings.
Olivia desperately hoped he was on the way and that Millay wasn’t merely stalling for time. They needed him, but the only chance of his kicking in the door was if Laurel had been able to recognize that her friends were in danger. Olivia knew that their phone connection had been intact when Judson had struck her, but she had no idea what happened next. Had Millay shouted for Laurel to call 911? Had she yelled that they were trapped in a hotel room with a murderer?
    As much as Olivia loathed having to be rescued, she knew that’s exactly what she needed. After all, she still couldn’t open her eyes, let alone rush to Millay’s aid.
    “Why did you do it?” Millay’s voice rose in a challenge. “Are you in the Klan?”
    Judson snorted. “There is no Klan anymore. It’s just me.”
    “But why Willis? Why Talley?”
    “Why, why, why,” Judson mocked her. “Because the Locklears ruined my life. I vowed to wipe them off the face of the earth and I’m nearly done. None of you will stop me from finishing the job. I’ve been planning this weekend for a long time.”
    Millay was silent for a moment. Olivia wanted to look at her, but the pain was still wracking her body and she needed to wait for it to ebb a bit more.
    “When did it start? Your hatred for the Locklears?” Millay asked with surprising gentleness.
    Judson immediately responded to her tone. “It began at the so-called Battle of Hayes Pond. When my daddy ran off like the coward he was and left my mama behind. She drove our car into a ditch and was apparently so grateful to one of the Indians who came to her aid that she started sleeping with him. Daddy found out and beat her over and over. Tried to beat the animal out of her. He locked her in the house. He got her pregnant with me, but once I was born, she snuck out more and more. She only wanted
him
. I didn’t matter to her. Looked too much like Daddy for her tastes.”
    “Who was he?” Millay whispered. “Her lover?”
    “Lover?” Judson scoffed. “A highbrow word for the loser she spread her legs for. The whore.”
    Olivia could sense Millay’s wheels turning. “If he was a Locklear, then he must have been Talley’s grandfather.”
    Judson didn’t respond and Olivia had to assume he’d nodded. He then said, “Calvin Locklear was an Indian gigolo. Not only was he banging my mama, but he was also sleeping with Munin Cooper. He and Munin already had a son together, but they never bothered to get married. Real classy, those two.”
    I was right,
Olivia thought sadly
. Willis and Talley had a grandmother and never knew it.
    “Judson.” Millay spoke his name with surprising softness. “Talley told me about the marks on the wall in the root cellar of her house. Your house,” she quickly amended. “There was a name she couldn’t read. And lots of lines.”
    Judson expelled a long breath. For a moment, Olivia didn’t think he’d rise to the bait. When he did, his voice was low and distant. “That’s my childhood, written in stone. A mark for