Blind Spot (30 page)

“Your spot?” Oh God. What was I supposed to do now? Where was he taking me? “What if she doesn’t check her e-mail? Shouldn’t we go by the apartment first? I could go in, tell her where to meet us.”

“Already got that covered, Beautiful.”

Covered? I was really starting to freak now. If Greg had been there, he’d have a quote for me about best-laid plans. Why hadn’t I come up with Plan B? Why hadn’t the cops? Oh wait, that’s right. There
was
a Plan B. What had Detective King said? Get away and call?

I glanced out at the houses and trees zooming by the window. Great advice. Jump at this speed? How fast was he going? Sixty? Eighty? Could I survive that?

He slowed a bit as he changed lanes. My chance to get out.

I clutched the door handle.

Took a breath.

But I couldn’t open the door.

What if my head hit the concrete? Or the car behind us ran me over? I rubbed the cold metal between my fingers, debating. Stay in danger, or jump into danger?

He took the on-ramp to the highway and sped up again. Crap. We were heading out of town. Going fast again, too fast to escape.

Now what? We’d lost Greg. No one knew where we were going. Even if Abbey thought to read Tricia’s e-mail, nobody would know where Jonathan and Tricia’s “spot” was.

I reached for the pepper spray and remembered. My microphone. Were we still within range? I had to hope we were. It was all I had. I looked out the window again. Where could we be going? What was out here? Woods? Campgrounds?

Birch Hill.

“Are we going to Birch Hill?” I said into my collar.

“You’ll see.”

His smug look made my skin crawl, my mind race, my heart pound. Was he on to me? Had he figured out this was a hoax, and I was the key player?

“Could we stop at Birch Hill? I have to pee.”

“Sure.” He shrugged.

His response made me feel better. If he was on to me, he would’ve said no. I sat back, trying to relax. Even if they couldn’t hear me, maybe Greg or the police or Dellian would think to go to Birch Hill. It was the last place Tricia had been seen; it was a logical place to look for me.

The big yellow sign announcing Birch Hill Recreational Park came into view up ahead. Once Jonathan pulled onto the park’s dirt road, I’d run. There were trees, trails, and thick tangles of bushes to lose myself in until the police or Greg showed up.

I took a calming breath and released the panic inside me.

We blew by the sign.

“Wait! Where are you going? It’s back there!” I whirled around, watching the sign disappear behind us.

“Forgot,” Jonathan said. “Sorry.”

I slowly turned around, swallowing the fear in my throat. Was he sorry? Had he really forgotten? Or was he messing with me? Toying with me because he knew I was toying with him? “I can go in the bushes, I guess.”

“Cool.” He nodded. “It’s not much farther.” He slowed as he said this and turned onto a paved road almost hidden by overgrown grass and stark bushes.

“Where are we?” I said into the microphone. “Another campground?”

Should I jump? He was driving slower now to keep his precious car from getting scratched by the low-hanging branches. I’d scrape myself up a bit if I jumped out, but I’d be in those bushes and running before he could stop the car and chase me.

My pulse pounded. It was now or never. Again I grasped the door handle. Again I hesitated. It wasn’t my safety that stopped me this time, though. It was Jonathan’s.

If I ran, I’d probably be safe, but so would he. This was all for Tricia, for justice. Who would stick it to this pompous prick then? We’d still have no proof of anything. And he’d be wiser, more cautious; he’d never fall for another trick. This would all be for nothing. He’d be laughing, thinking he was too clever for us. Meanwhile, I’d be serving some sort of time for the fire, and Tricia? She’d still be dead with no hope of vindication for her death.

I loosened my grip on the handle and slid my hand under the tails of Greg’s shirt to my back pocket. My fingers pushed against the denim of my jeans and slowly rolled the canister up until it fell into my palm. My fist closed around the cold metal.

The pepper spray would buy me some time if I did need to run. But I was here to find the truth. Truth seekers like my father, searching for proof of extraterrestrial life, paranormal beings, Big Foot, the Loch Ness monster—none of them would get this close only to run in fear. I wouldn’t either.

Jonathan turned left at a fork in the road and parked.

I perked up at the sight of the clearing ahead. There was the picnic table, the lineup of beer bottles Ruth and I had left. “We’re by the river, right?” I leaned into the receiver. “We looked for Tricia’s cloak here after her funeral. The Birch Hill Lodge is upriver a ways, right? The ice bridge downriver?” I looked around. “I don’t see Tricia.” Or anyone. How long would it take the police to get here?
If
they were coming. Maybe they hadn’t heard me.

Jonathan wasn’t listening. He had his phone in his hand, reading a text. “A frickin’ trap. I knew it!”

That didn’t sound good. I popped the door open, ready to sprint. “What’s a trap?”

He shook his head. “Just says ‘a trap, on my way.’” He handed me the phone.

“Who’s on the way?” I took it from him and pretended to read the text. If he was showing it to me, my cover wasn’t blown.

“Ethan. I sent him to grab Tricia.”

Oh no
. Ethan knew it was a trap. Time to go. Even if I did get a confession before Ethan got here, there was a good chance this microphone was a bust, since there was no sign of the police anywhere. What good was a confession if only I heard it?

I stepped out of the car, intent on maintaining total calmness. “I really have to pee. I’m gonna go in the bushes over there.”

“Okay, you want a beer?” he asked, popping the trunk.

His question took me aback. “A beer?”

“Yeah, I brought some to celebrate with Tricia. For being alive and all. No sense in wasting it. Something to do until Ethan shows anyway.”

“Uh, sure. Be right back.” I rushed into the woods, focused on escaping. Barely a yard in, my toe caught in a root and I hit the ground with a thud. The canister of pepper spray flew through the air and out of sight.

“You okay?” Jonathan ran up behind me. “You’re about to lose your music.”

I looked down. Greg’s music player dangled from my shirt pocket. The one Dellian had banned from class. The one Greg once recorded lectures with. I could get a confession after all! I casually pushed “record” and set it back in my pocket. “I think I’ll wait to go.” I walked back toward the clearing. “Don’t want Ethan surprising me midpee. He’ll be here soon, right? What do you think he meant by ‘a trap’?”

“Whatever it is, Dellian’s behind it.” He pointed to my cheek. “You’re bleeding. I’ve got napkins in the glove box.” He returned to the open trunk.

I ducked into the car and found some fast-food napkins poking out from underneath what looked like a bag of pot. “Bag of pot, glove box,” I muttered into the recorder.

“Find some?” Jonathan came around the side of the car and handed me a beer.

I wiped at the blood and then took the beer. “A trap does sound like Dellian.” I pretended to take a sip. “You know he planted her pipe in my locker?”

“No shit?” He took a big swig of beer. “He’s trying to get me too, for that photo. That’s got to be what this is about.”

“How exactly did you get it?”

“I planned it. I needed ammo to get him off my back, and she’d do anything for a fix. He wasn’t supposed to start puking, though; that wasn’t planned. But we still got the shot.” He grinned. “A picture worth a thousand bribes.”

I frowned to myself. Wasn’t supposed to puke? What did he think ipecac syrup did? “What was he supposed to do if not puke?”

“I gave Tricia some stuff to slip him, to loosen him up, make him out of it, you know? We were gonna get him out to his truck, then take the picture. The puking messed that up a bit, had to think on our feet.”

“What did you give her to”—I tried to keep the disgust out of my voice—“loosen him up?” It was hard to be casual and friendly. So hard.

“A party drug,” he said with a shrug.

“A party drug? What Tricia had in her when she died?” I said. “What I was slipped? That sort of thing?”

“Yeah, that sort of thing.” He studied me over the top of his bottle. Fear crept through me, but I wasn’t backing down. I couldn’t let him scare me. “We’re in this together, right?” he asked. “You and me?”

“Are you joking?” My hand trembled. I gripped the neck of the bottle. “Why would I be? You just admitted to slipping me a date-rape drug!”

“What? No, I didn’t! I said that’s what I gave to Tricia for Dellian. I swear. I never gave you any!”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?” I wanted to scream
You tried to rape me,
but I knew if I did, he’d shut down. I had to get more first, get it all, before I accused him of that. “You told the police I bought Tricia drugs and you let me take the fall for the fire!”

“I said I was sorry. I couldn’t admit I’d been there with D. on my back, telling the cops I was selling drugs to Tricia. If they knew I put the photos in there, my ass would be toast.”

“Your ass should’ve been toast! You
were
selling her drugs, weren’t you?”

“Not like some dealer on the corner, the way D. was telling it. I helped her score sometimes, to help her out. Same as you did.”

“No.
I
tried to help her get pot so she could stay off the heroin.
You
went and bought her crack—with
my
money!”

He gave me a sheepish look. “Actually, that’s why I’m cool with telling the cops I was with you at the ATM. I didn’t buy any drugs with your money. I just pocketed it.”

“What?” I stared at him. “Then how’d she get the crack that day?”

“Ethan said he couldn’t score the pot until the next day. When I told him the situation, he offered up some crack for free, said he’d let it slide, this being her first time.”

“Of course he let it slide! He knew she’d get addicted and be back, you idiot! Geez, Jonathan—she was trying to pull herself up. To finally take control of her life, on
her
terms. You took that from her. You pushed her right back into the gutter! How could you do that to her?”

“Come on, you saw her. She was desperate! If I didn’t get her something, she would’ve just gone somewhere else. She’s an addict! That’s not my fault.”

“You could’ve said no. You could’ve turned her away.” Bile rose up in my throat. “But you liked her desperate, didn’t you? It made getting what you wanted easy, right? Like that night in the loft? That was just another drug deal, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said, and actually sounded remorseful. “But it’s not the way you make it sound. Tricia never had enough money and was always begging me to spot her so she could buy. The girl was maxing me out. I couldn’t afford to pay for her habit anymore without getting paid back. So I made a deal with her. If she helped me take down Dellian by setting up that photo, I’d wipe the debt clean and score her crack a few more times. But then she wanted to back out—she came upstairs begging me to erase the photos. I told her she owed me way too much money to back out, and I’d already scored more crack for her from Ethan that night. That’s when she came up with an alternative payment plan.” He shrugged. “It was her idea. It was mutual.”

“Mutual? That’s what you call sex for drugs?” Anger took over. “And how about when it isn’t mutual? When you use drugs for sex? What do you call that?” I was shaking all over. “I call that rape, Jonathan! Rape!”

“What?” He stared at me. “I told you it was mutual! I didn’t rape her!”

“How’d it all go, exactly? When I interrupted the alternate payment, what? You got mad? Thought you’d get the rest from me?” My body was in convulsions, trembling uncontrollably now. “But Tricia saw you. She wasn’t screaming crazy shit! She was telling you to stop! She attacked you because you were trying to rape me!”

“What the—?” Jonathan’s mouth was on the ground. Eyes wide. “Beautiful, I never—” He reached for me.

I swung the full bottle of beer at him, smashing it between his eyes. It hit his forehead with a dull thud but didn’t break. Beer foamed up, spilling everywhere. He stumbled backwards, a shocked look on his face.

Something rustled in the bushes behind us.

The police!

I didn’t wait to see if Jonathan regained his balance. I flew into the bushes toward the noise. Leafless branches scratched and tore at me as I leaped through the underbrush, desperate to fall into Greg’s arms.

I slammed into Ethan’s arms instead. He was carrying a limp cloaked body.

“Going somewhere?” Ethan shoved me backwards with Heather’s body. “Party’s just starting. We’re all here now.”

“What’d you do to her?” I said to Ethan.

Jonathan came up behind me, grabbed my hands, and pulled me to his chest. “Why the hell’d you hit me?”

Ethan stepped around us and tossed Heather on the ground like a rag doll.

“What did you do to her?” I said again, trying to pull free from Jonathan.

“You need to chill,” Ethan said as he took a bottle of beer from the six-pack Jonathan had brought, twisted the top off, and threw it into the bushes. He stuck two fingers into his pants’ pocket and pulled out a pill. He grinned at me as he dropped the pill into the bottle. “This’ll help us all get friendly.” He shoved the bottle at me.

“Don’t give her that shit!” Jonathan let go of me and slapped the bottle away.

I rushed over and knelt beside Heather. She was breathing. That was good. Good? What was she doing here? How did Ethan get ahold of her without anyone stopping him? She was supposed to be with Dellian and Abbey, surrounded by police, protected. Safe.

“Is that really Tricia?” Jonathan said.

“No, it’s a trap. Go look at her. Really look at her.”

How much did Ethan know? Had he tortured Heather until she told him everything? I watched Jonathan approach, my mouth going dry. I had to get out of here, but how with Heather drugged? I couldn’t drag her. I couldn’t leave her either.

Jonathan crouched down in front of Heather. I got up on my knees, turning my back to Ethan, and pretended to give Jonathan room. “What did he give her?” I asked while I slipped my hand into my front pocket and folded my fingers around my phone.