“She was right; Uncle Alex made millions,” Sara said. “So when she was … had sex that night, she wanted it to be Alex?”
“That’s what Tess and I think. But whatever the truth is, every year we were all subjected to a period of deathly mourning centered around the fourteenth of November.”
“The fourteenth of November?” Sara asked in surprise.
“Is that date important to you?”
“Oh, dear. I forgot to tell you something.”
“Sara, if Vandlo—”
“No, not him. Did … Was there any chance that her molester was wearing a kilt?”
Mike turned his head so abruptly, the car swerved. “Yes! That’s how she identified him. She said that only the McDowells wore that blue and gray plaid, but how do you know that?”
“Brewster Lang did it.”
“What?”
“He was the one with your grandmother.”
“Tell me what you know.” There was a muscle working in his jaw.
“Don’t you dare get angry at me! If you’d told me this story a week ago I could have told you about Mr. Lang.”
“Sara …” he said in warning.
“When Luke and Ramsey were teenagers, one night they sneaked onto Merlin’s Farm. They said it was because they saw a fire, but I happen to know that they often sneaked around there.”
“What did they see?” Mike asked.
“Mr. Lang was wearing an old kilt and a big white shirt, and he and his dogs were dancing around a huge bonfire. Luke and Rams said it was all wild and primitive-looking. It was the fourteenth of November.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Yes. That’s my father’s birthday.”
“Lang didn’t see them?”
“No, but the next day he must have seen the weeds knocked down because after that he was worse about trespassers.”
“It could have been a coincidence,” Mike said. “That was a long time after 1941, and—”
“He does it every year on the same day.”
Mike glanced at her.
“The next year on my father’s birthday, Luke and Rams went back, and they could see the firelight. They tried to get near, but the dogs were guarding the area. Mike,” she said softly, “you don’t think Mr. Lang celebrates raping a woman, do you? He couldn’t be that … that horrible.”
“You want the truth? I’m not sure she was assaulted. Her facts changed constantly, and that Lang wears a McDowell kilt makes me doubt her even more. And he was in the vicinity and Grans always said he was her friend. Maybe …”
“What?”
“I wonder if she and Lang had sex that night and she used it as a chance to blame your uncle Alex?”
“Wow! Not very PC of her, was it?” Sara was silent for a moment. “And now Mr. Lang celebrates that night every year.”
Mike shrugged. “People do a lot of strange things in the privacy of their own homes. And even if it happened the way my grandmother said, I doubt if Lang sees it as a rape. Remember that my grandmother was only semiconscious, and the kilt made her think it was the man she believed she loved. I doubt that she made much of a protest.”