Blind Spot (28 page)

“Tactics? Overboard? Let’s forget suspension and expulsion. How is planting evidence a teaching tactic?” Greg said. “You make me sick.”

I knew I should be angry too, angrier than Greg. But my body was too numb to react to anything anymore. I could only stare, disbelieving.

Dellian nodded. “I make myself sick. I apologize profusely, I do. I thought you were working with Mr. Webb.”

“She doesn’t want your apology—”

“If you cared so much for Tricia”—I interrupted—“why didn’t you bury the cloak with her?”

“I loved her, very much,” he said. “I didn’t have it then. It appeared in my apartment during the fire, along with copies of that photo.”

“Jonathan,” I whispered.

“Yes, and Ethan perhaps; the two are never far from one another. Luckily, neither has any real intellect. I found the items long before the officers entered the room. If you wish to go right now, I’ll tell the police this. Maybe between the two of us, we can finally put Jonathan away.”

Away?
I thought as we walked across the dark lot to Dellian’s truck. I didn’t want to see Jonathan put
away.
I wanted to see him
fry.

“How can you lie there and say nothing?” Greg said as he paced back and forth in my room. It was almost one in the morning. He wasn’t supposed to be over, but Mom wasn’t home from her “drink” yet, and I didn’t feel like being alone. There was a murderer- attempted rapist-arsonist-drug dealer-asshole extraordinaire in my neighborhood. “I’m so mad, I could punch something!”

We’d returned from our unsuccessful trip to the police station. Detective King told us that because Mr. Dellian hadn’t actually seen Jonathan attempting to rape me—he had only witnessed Tricia attacking Jonathan—our new information was merely “speculation and circumstantial”; she couldn’t issue an arrest warrant for Jonathan.

It wasn’t fair. Jonathan was walking around free while Tricia was dead and I was stunned and numb, feeling betrayed by my own body. How could my body let Jonathan near me after what he tried to do? And the fact that I couldn’t remember wasn’t a blessing anymore. Detective King said attempted rape was hard enough to prove with a clearly witnessed account—the fact that I had no memory, and Dellian hadn’t seen the attack, meant the district attorney probably wouldn’t even bother.

I tried to picture that night, over and over, tried to focus my brain, but got nowhere. Just as my macular degeneration blocked objects, my mind was blocking the assault.

“Roz?” Greg sat on the edge of the bed. “Talk to me. What are you thinking?”

“He’s gonna get away with it,” I said. “Doesn’t it matter that he’s guilty? That all the evidence points to him? Why isn’t that enough to arrest him?”

“They’ll get him,” Greg said. “You heard Dellian. Jonathan lacks intellect. Stupid people slip up eventually. When he does, they’ll have their proof.”

“Maybe we could help him slip up?” I rolled over on my elbow. “Remember how we helped Jonathan when he was stuck in the snow? When I got his jack out of the trunk?”

Greg nodded.

“His spare was on a brown cloth, the same color and texture as Tricia’s cloak. Do you think it was?”

He shrugged. “Even if they find fibers in the trunk, it’s still circumstantial. Like trapping Sasquatch. Plenty of footprints and fur have been found, but it’s always explained away. You have to catch Sasquatch to prove he exists.”

I sighed. I knew he was right. “The only way to catch Jonathan is to get him to confess. But how? What would make him talk?”

Greg shook his head. “No idea.”

Fear. Fear would get him talking. I sat up. “What if a witness claimed to have seen Jonathan with Tricia that night after everyone left the party? If he thought he was about to be arrested, maybe he’d try to set Dellian up again.”

“What could he possibly frame him with? He’s already left the cloak, the photos—what else would he use?”

I thought for a minute. “What if I tell him I remember that night—tell him I won’t press charges if he tells the police what happened to Tricia and fesses up to the fire? At least we’d get him on something, right?” But even as I said it, I knew I couldn’t do it. I wanted him to pay for everything he’d done—or tried to do.

“But you
don’t
remember. All you know is what Dellian claims to have seen.”

“Are you saying you don’t think it happened?”

“I’m saying you don’t remember what happened and he knows that. You’d have to give him some details to prove you suddenly remember. What if you say the wrong thing and Jonathan catches on?” Greg shook his head. “No. No way will you be alone with that creep again. We’ll come up with something else.”

“Well, there is nothing else!” I flopped back on the bed.

Greg stretched out next to me. “Then we let the police handle it.”

“Please,” I said with a snort. “Tricia’s corpse could walk in and tell the police every sordid detail, and they’d still say it’s
circumstantial
and
speculation
—”

That’s it!
I sat up again. “Who would have the most incriminating things to say? Who would Jonathan fear most?” I didn’t wait for a response. “Tricia!” I leaped to my feet. “I know how to get Jonathan to talk!”

My excitement was drowned out by the hum of the garage door opening. “Crap! You have to go.”

“But what’s the plan?” Greg asked as he pushed his feet into his shoes.

“I’ll explain tomorrow. Just get Dellian and Heather over to your house tomorrow afternoon, okay? Fritz and Missy too. I think this is more of a group project.”

I spent all day planning Jonathan’s demise. It really was like planning a school project—except the outcome had more weight than anything I’d ever done for school. The plan depended most on Heather, Dellian, and me. Dellian I wasn’t so worried about, but Heather? I hadn’t spoken to her since the fire. I wouldn’t blame her if she refused to help. But I needed her. I wasn’t sure if I could trust anyone else with her part.

As soon as school got out—three o’clock on the dot—Greg called. “I’ll be there soon. I’m bringing Fritz and Heather with me. Missy will meet us there. Mr. Dellian said he’ll help if he can, but”—Greg mimicked Dellian—“‘I cannot risk tarnishing my reputation any further with illegal antics.’ He said I could be his human tape recorder, though.”

“I thought you were
my
human tape recorder.” I laughed.

“I was protecting you when I said that,” he said.

A ton of emotions rushed through me. “I know. Thank you.” I bit my lip to keep my voice steady. “Greg? I couldn’t have done it yesterday without you. I mean it. You were great. I’m so sorry about the fire and Jonathan and—”

“Stop, I forgave you hours ago. I’m leaving school now. As soon as I round everyone up, I’ll be by to get you.”

“I’ll meet you at your house,” I said, then explained. “Detective King’s bringing me. We can’t afford to screw this up.”

When Detective King and I arrived, Missy was just walking over, and Heather was dragging Fritz’s wheelchair out of Greg’s back seat. “Here.” I grabbed the handles from Heather with a nervous smile. “Glad you came. I—”

She threw her arms around me. “I missed you! I can’t believe everything! First the fire, then jail, now rape.” She slapped her hand over her mouth.

“It’s okay. I figured he’d tell you.” My bottom lip trembled. “I’m sorry about the fire. Really. I never should’ve used you like that. There’s no excuse.”

Heather shrugged. “You didn’t know they’d really set a fire. You thought you were helping.”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought I was doing. It was wrong.” I turned to Fritz. “Fritz, I feel sick about what happened that day. I am so, so sorry.”

“Hey, we’re cool, okay?” Fritz smiled. “Totally cool.”

“So what’s the plan?” Greg asked once we were all inside.

I grinned at him. “We’re going to catch Sasquatch to prove he exists.”

“Huh?” Heather and Missy said in unison.

Greg waved his hand to quiet them. “Explain.”

“Remember that article my dad sent about Big Foot in the Alps? It turned out to be a hoax some guys pulled with an ape costume. But until the lab ran the tests, the guy who found the alleged corpse thought he’d seen the real thing. He told people all sorts of stories about seeing Big Foot, while his friends were laughing it up because they knew it was a hoax.”

“Fascinating,” Missy said.

“Yeah, seriously,” Heather said. “I thought you had a plan?”

“Just let her talk, you two,” Fritz said.

Greg’s eyes were glued on me, a smile creeping across his face. “I like the way you think.”

I couldn’t help smiling. “I like that you get the way I think.”

Heather rolled her eyes. “I’d like to
think
you both upside the head! What are you two yammering about?”

Detective King looked at her watch. “Could we speed this up a bit?”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “Right now, Jonathan’s free because Tricia’s about the only person who could pin a crime on him. And she’s dead.”

“But if she weren’t, she’d know everything. All the details. The perfect witness,” Greg finished.

“Exactly,” I said.

“But she
is
dead,” Heather said.

“Maybe not,” I said. “Maybe the coroner made a mistake and misidentified the body, or she faked her death.”

“Or she’s come back from the grave for revenge,” Greg said. “I’ve seen her. Haven’t you, Roz?”

Fritz chuckled. “I’ve seen her.”

“Her ghost?” Missy asked. “You’ve seen it?”

“Not for real, doofus!” Heather said. “We’re going to pretend.”

“Maybe I talked to her,” I said, “and she told me all about that night—”

The playful grin on Greg’s face clouded over and dissipated. “No way are you putting yourself in jeopardy! Twirling around a few yards away from him or leaving messages is one thing, but you are not going to be alone with him. He’ll hurt you.”

“How else would we get a confession from him? It’s the only way,” I said.

“Can’t we just pretend she’s alive and see what he does?” Greg looked at Detective King for help.

“It’s worth a try,” Detective King said. “If we get him rattled enough, he may incriminate himself on a wiretap or even confess. It has to be planned carefully, though. What exactly did you have in mind, Roswell?”

“Nothing too dramatic. I figure for him to believe she’s alive, he has to hear it indirectly, you know? From people who aren’t tangled in any of this.”

“You want to spread a rumor,” Missy said. “I could totally do that in my sleep.”

“Starting it is cake,” Fritz said. “It’s the rumor that’s tricky. People have to believe it—and there was a funeral, man. A casket, with a body.”

“That hardly anyone went to,” I said. “If everyone who was there knows we’re doing this, there’re no problems.”

Detective King shook her head. “We’ll have to tell a few people, obviously, like Abbey and Rodney Dellian, but I recommend keeping as many out of the loop as possible.”

Ruth, JJ, and Jeffrey would be ecstatic to hear she was alive— and I didn’t want to hurt them like that. But Jonathan knew them. What if he asked them? Tortured them for the truth? As much as it hurt to let them believe she was alive, I realized it was safer for them not to know what we were doing. “Okay, we don’t tell anyone the truth unless Detective King clears it, agreed?”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“All right. We say the coroner somehow misidentified the body. That Tricia really ran away to Seattle. She called her sister and is coming back in a few days. Detective King, can you put surveillance on Jonathan?”

“Already have.”

“Good. Once Tricia is supposedly in town, you know Jonathan will be curious. When he comes looking, the police will alert Abbey, and we’ll make sure Jonathan sees Tricia. If I can’t contact him”—I looked at Greg—“then hopefully seeing her will be enough to get him rattled and talking.”

Missy frowned. “How’s he going to see Tricia, though?”

“Heather lives in the same building.” I smiled at Heather. “How are you at playing dead girls?”

Heather grinned back. “Do I get to wear her cape?”

Missy and Fritz started telling Tricia’s bizarre story at school on Monday. Like the flame from a lit cigarette dropped into dry grass, the rumor quickly spread and took on a life of its own. Since I was expelled, I didn’t get to hear it told over and over, but the day after it was set in motion, Mom came home from work talking about it. She’d heard the rumor from one of the other cosmetic reps, who’d heard it on some morning talk radio show.

Most people focused on the incompetence of the police and coroner’s office—which meant Detective King had to inform the coroner of the plan—but a few radio and TV hosts began calling Abbey, requesting interviews with Tricia. Detective King said we’d need to speed up the timeline before the situation got too out of hand. So Wednesday, Fritz and Missy set the second rumor in motion: Tricia would be arriving home on Friday.

That morning I sat alone at home watching a
Ghost Team
marathon, wishing I could be at school with the others to see how the news was received. At 10:35, just as the ghost hunter was telling the ghost to bang on the wall, my doorbell rang. I thought maybe it was Greg, skipping class to hang with me—crazy, yes, but what else did I have to fantasize about?

I flew to the door and ripped it open without peeking through the peephole.

Jonathan stood there.

It wasn’t that I didn’t expect Jonathan to contact me. I did. We all did. We knew that if he talked to anyone other than Ethan, it would be me. That’s why they put a tap on my landline and cell. And they said if he attempted a face-to-face encounter, they’d warn me, since Jonathan was under surveillance at all times.

No one had called to warn me, so why would I have expected him?

“Jonathan?” I stuck my body in the way and tried to casually close the door to eliminate any available space.

“Hey, Beautiful,” he said with a grin as if we were still friends. “What’s going on?”

My pulse rocketed. I tried to stay calm. “Oh, just watching some TV—”