Blind Spot (31 page)

Jonathan gave me a solemn look. “A roofie, same shit he just put in that beer.” He lowered his voice. “Same shit he pops in chicks’ drinks at parties to loosen them up—get too much, this happens.” He nodded at Heather’s limp body. “That’s why they call it a date-rape drug. I don’t use that shit, Beautiful. You gotta believe me.”

I ignored the pleading look he was giving me. “Will she be okay?”

“It’ll wear off.” He looked at Heather and then frowned at Ethan. “What? I don’t see anything.”

“Take the hood off, dude, really look!”

Jonathan slipped the hood off. “What the—that’s not Tricia!”

In one smooth movement, I pulled the cell phone out and sat down against Heather, sliding the phone underneath the folds of the cloak.

Ethan chuckled. “Yeah, you were right about it being a scam. But much bigger than you thought.” He guzzled the beer. “Tricia’s dead as a doorknob. Has been for months. Rona told me Fake Tricia here is working with her freak friends to trick you. She didn’t say anything about your little Wouldn’t-Do-Me-Wrong over there. But I’m thinking they planned it all to get the goods on you, so she won’t go to jail.” He looked at me. “Am I right?”

If I got through this alive, I would kill Rona. With my bare hands.

Jonathan frowned at me. “Were you in on this?” He looked hurt. “Because you think . . . ? I didn’t touch you. I swear. Tricia just freaked. I told her I wasn’t doing anything, but she kept calling me Wayne, just kept hitting me, scratching me.”

Wayne?
The drug dealer Tricia’s mother had killed? The one who had raped Tricia? Suddenly I wasn’t sure anymore. Dellian said he’d arrived while Tricia was attacking Jonathan. He hadn’t actually seen Jonathan do anything to me. Could Tricia have mistaken what she’d seen? Lord knows I’d done that a bazillion times with my eyesight; maybe she’d done something similar, linked her past with the present and come up with the wrong conclusion. My emotions began a tug of war inside me. Jonathan seemed genuinely hurt. Could he be telling the truth this time?

“If nothing happened, why’d you lie? Why’d you say you took me home when Dellian did?”

“I never said I took you home. You did. I just went along with it because I didn’t have an alibi after I left her.” His eyes narrowed. “You still don’t remember, do you? If you did, you’d know I didn’t touch you. Dellian tell you that shit? You
are
working with him, aren’t you? And the cops? Is that it?”

Ethan laughed, the whole thing apparently amusing to him. “No dude, no cops. No Dellian either; just that wannabe football player and his crippled friend.” Ethan slapped his leg. “Oh, it was sweet! They were trying to be all James Bond, hiding that purple car in the back of the apartment complex by the dumpsters. As if you can’t but see that eyesore! Dude, it was classic. I walked up, knocked on the window, surprised the crap out of them. Said I knew all about their little game and wanted to borrow Fake Tricia for a bit.”

What? My mouth dropped open. “They just let you take her?”

“Hell, no! I grabbed her when she came out of the building. Those idiots are prob’ly still waiting for her to come out. Freaking hilarious, dude!”

Freaking hilarious. What the heck was going on? How could the plan have gone so wrong? I slipped the phone forward, pushed Greg’s speed-dial button, and then shoved the phone back under the arm folds of Tricia’s cloak to smother the ringing. “So, why’d you bring her here if you knew she wasn’t Tricia?” I said.

Greg answered on the first ring. “Roz!”

My hand shot out to muffle the sound.

So did Heather’s arm. She was awake?

“Yeah, why did you bring her here?” Jonathan said. “I’ve got nothing to say to her.”

“I thought you’d want to screw with her a bit.” Ethan smiled. “She’s supposed to be Tricia reanimated, right? Thought we’d show her how the real Tricia had fun.”

I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, but I had an idea—and I didn’t like it. “You’re sick,” I said.

“Oh, relax. I’m just talking a little fun.” He held up the beer bottle again. “Here, have a sip, loosen up.”

“Loosen up? Is that what you told Tricia when you gave her a roofied beer after she was already high on crack? Was it right here by the river?” I looked at Jonathan. “At your ‘spot’? Did you watch her die too, for fun?”

“Whoa, hold on!” Jonathan held his hands up. “
No one
watched her do anything. We weren’t with her.”

Ethan gave me a dirty look. “You’re more of a bitch than I thought. I think she’s lying to you, dude. I think she’s here trying to get us to admit something. Aren’t you, bitch?”

“I . . . no.” My brain failed me. With all the things Jonathan had done or I’d thought he’d done, he’d never spoken to me the way Ethan just had. It was hateful and vile and . . . scary.

“No?” He moved toward me. I crouched back against Heather. “I’m supposed to believe you’re just here, hanging? Prove it. Drink this beer.” He shoved it at me.

“I said don’t give her that shit!” Jonathan snatched the bottle and threw it to the ground. “Just leave her alone, okay?”

Ethan scowled at him. “She’s playing you, dude.” He wandered over to the picnic table and sat down. “You’re a frickin’ wimp.”

“I am not!” Jonathan said.

“No?” Ethan chugged the rest of his beer and tossed the bottle into the woods. It hit a tree and shattered. “Didn’t you say she hit you earlier?”

Jonathan glared at Ethan, not saying anything.

“And since your girl brought it up, how about Tricia?” He snatched another bottle from the cardboard holder. “She smacked you around hard and you didn’t do
nothing.
You’re a wimp.”

“I don’t hit girls, dickhead!”

Heather’s hand touched my leg. I kept my face forward and looked through my peripheral vision at her. Her eyes were slits, but she winked at me. She was definitely pretending to be unconscious. Did that mean the police were out there somewhere? The thought gave me confidence. “What’s he talking about, Jonathan?” I asked.

“That night, when she thought I was hurting you. After Dellian took you home, Tricia came after me. Went crazy—”

“Like a wild animal,” Ethan interjected. “She was on his back, goin’ nuts!”

So Ethan had been there too. “What happened? Did she fall in when you were fighting?”

“No!” Jonathan jumped up. “I told you. I wasn’t there! I left her right there at that picnic table. She said if she didn’t see me erase the photos, she’d tell everyone I was selling drugs. I went to get my phone from my Vette; when I came back, her cape was here, but she wasn’t. Tell her, Ethan! Tell her I wasn’t there.”

“How the hell would I know that?” Ethan said. “Maybe you were.”

A snarl escaped Jonathan’s lips. “Asshole!” He got in Ethan’s face. “You know I wasn’t! You were hanging out with her when I left.”

“Psst.” Heather motioned toward Jonathan and Ethan. “Watch them,” she mouthed, cautiously sitting up.

“You’d better shut your mouth.” Ethan jammed his finger into Jonathan’s chest. “I don’t know nothing that happened after that, and you know it! I left right after you. You’re the one who came back.”

“What are you talking about?” Jonathan said. “You saw me leave!”

“You just said you came back! How do I know you didn’t do something to her?”

“’Cause I told you she wasn’t here! How do I know you didn’t do something to her while I was gone?”

Ethan grabbed Jonathan around the neck and yanked him forward. “Shut the eff up!” His voice was low and guttural. “I didn’t touch her! I left right after you!”

Heather and I didn’t need to hear anymore. We bolted into the woods.

“Hey!” Ethan yelled after us.

His voice made me run faster. I snapped twigs and tore at branches as I flew through the brush, Heather next to me.

Tricia’s cloak caught on a low-lying bush. Heather jerked backwards with a cry.

I ripped her free, then grabbed her sleeve and tugged her forward.

We’d run only a few feet when another branch caught her, tearing her from my grasp. “Pull it up around you!”

“I’m trying!” Heather cried. She scooped the folds into her arms.

The sounds of pursuit intensified behind us, like a herd of cattle tearing through the woods. There was a yell and more thrashing.

We ran faster.

“No, this way!” Heather cried behind me.

I glanced back to see her sprinting left. I swerved toward her, narrowly missing an outstretched branch, but collided with the bare thorns of a raspberry bush. The sharp points tore at me as I untangled myself and caught back up with her.

We came out on a path. Heather slowed.

“Don’t stop,” I cried. Relieved to have a clear path, I pumped my legs faster. “Come on! The lodge is—” Arms grabbed me from the bushes. I threw my head back. It connected with a hard smack.

“Ow!” The arms dropped.

I propelled myself forward to run again just as the wind blew the scent of watermelon bubblegum toward me. I slammed to a stop and whirled around. “Greg?”

He stood behind me, blood pouring from his nose.

“Oh God.” I rushed back over. “I didn’t know it was you.” I tilted his head up to stop the bleeding. “Where have you been? Where are the police?”

“They just went in to grab Jonathan and Ethan.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry it took a while to find you. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” As soon as I said it, though, my throat tightened and tears filled my eyes. “I’m gonna kill Rona,” I said. “She told Ethan. She ruined the plan.”

“Detective King told her to. We thought he’d lead us to you.”

“Yeah.” Heather panted from the bushes behind us. “Rona totally saved your butt.” She was bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

“So if you were going to follow Ethan to Jonathan, how did Heather end up with him?”

“That was my idea. I let him take me.” Heather threw a sideways glance at Greg. “Not everyone approved.”

Greg brought his hand down from his nose. “Because it was a stupid plan. We didn’t need two in danger, and we knew he’d go to Jonathan eventually.”

“Yeah, well, it worked, didn’t it?” Heather said. “It was easy once I fake-drank the water he spiked. He didn’t pay any attention to me once I pretended to pass out. Could you tell?”

“No.” My voice wavered. “I thought he’d really drugged you.” The lump returned to my throat.

“Sorry. I had to keep pretending.” Heather put an arm around me. “All that stuff you got them to admit? I got it on tape.” She pulled Dellian’s tape recorder from the cloak pocket. “Dellian gave me this, in case my wire failed too.”

“I
knew
that thing wasn’t working.” I pulled Greg’s recorder out. “I had a backup too.”

This struck us as hilarious. We erupted into laughter. Then, my hysterical gasps turned to choking sobs. Greg wrapped me tight in his arms. I buried my face in his chest and crumbled.

“It was my fault,” he mumbled in my hair. “I lost you guys. I’m so sorry.”

I wanted to say it wasn’t his fault. Jonathan lost him on purpose. That he had no way of knowing Jonathan wouldn’t go to Dellian’s. But I couldn’t stop sobbing long enough to form the words. I just buried myself deeper in his fleece.

“Are you okay, Roz?” Detective King asked me.

Wiping my tears, I looked up from Greg. Detective King and two other officers had walked out of the woods with Jonathan and Ethan in handcuffs. Ethan’s bottom lip was bleeding. He glared at Heather and me. Jonathan stared down at the ground, not making eye contact with anyone.

“No. Ethan gave me a drugged beer.” I glanced over at Jonathan. “Or tried to, anyway. Jonathan stopped him.”

“He drugged my water on the way out here,” Heather said. “Come to think of it, the night I was slipped something, Ethan gave me a beer.”

“Jonathan said Ethan does that a lot,” I said.

“He’s lying! They all are!” Ethan stared daggers at Jonathan. “Frickin’ loser.”

“Make sure you bag the water and beer for evidence,” Detective King told one of the officers.

“I lied about the fire and my car being stolen. But I’m not lying about Ethan,” Jonathan said quietly. “I was buying drugs off him for Tricia, so I know—he’s always got roofies on him. Check his pockets.”

“Dude! Shut up!” Ethan said as an officer began to frisk him.

“Ethan’s the one who got Tricia hooked on the crack too,” I said. “It’s all on here”—I handed Detective King Greg’s recorder—“including how my eighty dollars never bought pot or any other drugs. Jonathan kept it.”

“What—” Ethan started to say, and then clamped his mouth shut and just glared at Jonathan.

Jonathan ignored him and looked at Detective King. “Yeah, he was dealing, but I’m just as guilty for giving it to her.” He shrugged. “Maybe her OD’ing
was
my fault. That night when she attacked me, Ethan gave her a beer while I went to get the phone I’d used to take the photos. I was going to erase them, the way she wanted. She was already high on the crack I had given her at the party.” He glanced up at me. “I swear I never touched you. And Tricia was gone when I got back with the phone. Only her cape was there. I grabbed it, to give it to her later.”

“You never saw her in the water?” I asked.

Jonathan shook his head.

I turned to Ethan. “Did you? Did you see her get in the water?”

“No, and I didn’t roofie her beer either! We hung out a bit, but I got frickin’ cold waiting, so I took off.”

“You expect us to believe hers was the one beer you didn’t spike?” Greg asked.

“I don’t give a shit
what
you believe,” Ethan said.

“I think she gave it to herself,” I said. “She was supposed to use it on Dellian, but she used ipecac syrup instead and kept the GHB for herself.”

“Why?” Heather and Greg both said.

“’Cause she’s a drug addict.” Ethan smirked.

“Take him and Jonathan downtown,” Detective King told the officers, then turned to Heather and me. “Let’s get those wires off you two.” She took the tiny microphones and kept both of our recorders too, just in case, and then headed down the trail. The three of us followed slowly behind.

“Do you think Tricia committed suicide?” Heather asked.