Poison Ink (19 page)

But the great detective’s reasoning had left one thing out, a question that Sammi had to deal with that Holmes never had. What if the only possible answer
was
the impossible one?

The police didn’t stay long. Sammi learned from them that the girls were claiming that they were the victims, that any damage they inflicted upon Las Reinas was in self-defense, and that any injuries Sammi sustained had been caused by Marisol and the other Reinas. They were all going to court. They would probably get off with a slap on the wrist for the fight with Las Reinas, but for what they had done to Sammi, they might all spend some time in jail for assault.

Sammi said nothing. Part of her—the wounded heart of her—wanted to cheer and say the bitches deserved it. But another part of her could not get that tattoo, that poison ink, out of her mind, and she had to wonder if they had not all been victims after all.

Katsuko’s parents visited on Wednesday. Like T.Q.’s mother, they did not stay long. But Sammi saw something new and different in their eyes, and it chilled her to the bone. These proper Japanese parents had seen their perfect daughter transform into something crass and wild and brutal, and it terrified them. They were so frightened, and when they apologized to Sammi for the behavior of their daughter, they seemed to be searching not only for forgiveness but for some explanation.

Sammi had none to give.

Her mother stayed with her for stretches of four and five hours at a time, leaving only briefly when other visitors arrived, or for longer periods when Sammi’s father lingered longer than she would have liked. Her mom had taken family leave from the bank and seemed anxious to get her back to her room and guitar, even though Sammi wouldn’t be able to play the thing for a couple of weeks.

Zak came by with Rachael once, and Anna Dubrowski came by on her own twice, both times with a guilty look in her eyes, as though she blamed herself for some part of what had happened to Sammi. Nothing she could have done would have stopped the beating, but if Anna understood that, the fact seemed to comfort her not at all.

On Wednesday afternoon, while Anna was visiting, Sammi’s mother went out to get a cup of coffee and a breath of fresh air. Anna seemed to have been waiting for a moment alone with her.

“Oh my God, I’ve got to talk to you.”

“In secret? What’s going on?”

Anna glanced around the room as though searching for the answer. “I don’t know. Something’s really wrong with those girls, Caryn and the others. I mean, duh, obviously they beat the shit out of you, so we know they’re deranged. But everyone’s talking about them at school, how weird they’ve gotten. They’re totally spaced now, like they don’t even remember things they’ve done from one minute to another.

“And they’re creepy. I’ve heard them use the same phrases in the same tone of voice in the same day. Yeah, you spend serious time with the same group of girls and you’re going to start to act alike, but this is way beyond that. Plus they’re totally turning into party whores—”

Sammi scowled in disgust.

“I know!” Anna said, shuddering. “I mean, Simone Deveaux? But some of my friends were at a party on Sunday night they were all at and said they were getting high. Katsuko always came off as pretty conceited and uptight to me even before all this happened, but Jenny Carr walked in on her in a bedroom with Jeremy—they were naked and doing lines of coke off each other’s stomachs.”

The pain in Sammi’s cheek and ribs had subsided a little each day. At that moment, she shifted on the hospital bed and they flared. She winced as she raised her head from the pillow to stare at Anna.

“Are you kidding me? Seriously?”

Anna nodded, regret filling her eyes. “I know I didn’t see it myself, but I’ve been friends with Jenny since, like, second grade. She wouldn’t make something like that up. Not about
anybody.
”

Sammi felt like vomiting. “Oh my God.”

“I know. Supposedly they all hooked up with people that night. Simone and Caryn totally made out, and everyone cheered them on until some guy from Methuen called them sluts. Simone threw him up against a wall—broke a mirror and everything. Jenny said he freaked and started calling her a crazy bitch and she just laughed.”

Before Sammi could reply to that, her mother popped back into the room.

“Good news, sweetie! You’re going home tomorrow!”

“That’s great, Mom. I want to be in my own bed. Or, even better, on the couch with the remote. The TV selection here stinks.”

Linda Holland glanced back and forth between the two girls as though sensing she had interrupted something. Sammi forced herself to smile. She and Anna exchanged a glance, but there seemed nothing more to be said. They were both horrified, but how could Sammi even begin to explain her suspicions to the other girl? She couldn’t. Even with the way her former friends were behaving, Anna would never believe her.

I don’t know what possessed you,
her mother had said.

Sammi thought she knew, and it terrified her.

12

S
ammi kept the window down, breathing in the fresh air of a warm September day. She’d been cooped up inside the hospital for nearly a week and freedom felt delicious. It made up—at least a little bit—for the agony of the car ride. Every time her mother went over a rut or bump in the road, it jarred her mending bones and she grunted softly. Her mom tried to avoid the worst potholes, but the ride still seemed to last an eternity.

It might not have been the bumps that made the trip home hard to endure. Somehow her parents had decided that it would be a good idea to pick up their daughter from the hospital together. So she sat in the backseat and tried to smile while they pretended that nothing at all had changed, making happy talk to Sammi and trying their best to conceal their spite toward each other.

“Phil, don’t you have something for Sammi?” her mom asked as they rolled up to a red light a few miles from home.

“Oh, right!” her father said. Wearing that awkward, forced grin, he picked up a plastic bag from the floor of the front seat and took out a box, then handed it back to her.

Sammi stared at the picture on the box, which showed a razor-thin, cherry red cellular picture phone. A smile blossomed on her face, and her cheekbone hurt only a little as she tore the box open.

“So cool, Dad. Thank you.”

“It’s all charged and ready to go, honey,” her father said.

The light turned green and her mother turned left onto a road that ran alongside the Merrimack River.

“In fact,” her mom said, meeting Sammi’s gaze in the rearview mirror, “there’s already one number programmed in.”

Sammi turned the phone on and it jingled its welcome tune. Curious, she waited for it to cycle through its setup, and then went to the menu page of programmed numbers. Only one name existed on the list:
Adam Levine.

“You found him.”

“Mrs. Parisi works at Kingston High School. She gave me his mother’s name and I just looked them up in the phone book. That’s the home number, though. Obviously I couldn’t get his cell.”

“No, this is great. Thanks.” Sammi glanced at her father in the passenger seat. “Thank you both.”

They were all smiles for a minute or so, but the happiness was short-lived. Reality set in. Instead of awkwardness and resentment now, though, the atmosphere in the car became melancholy.

“So, how are you doing, Sam?” her father asked as they drew nearer to the house. “Healing up all right?”

“Pretty much. Percocet’ll get me through the rest of the week. After that I’ve got to be really careful about my face and my ribs for a while. Dr. Morrissey said it would take six to eight weeks before they’re totally healed, but as long as I take it easy, I should be okay. The fingers will take about the same, but with the cast I’m not worried about screwing them up. Mostly I plan to eat ice cream and watch movies. The hard part is not being able to play my guitar. But it’s not forever.”

“Ah, you’ll be playing again in no time.”

“Definitely. Meanwhile, I plan to milk my injuries for all they’re worth.”

Her mother laughed. “Your legs aren’t broken, kid. You can get your own ice cream.”

“Oh, you’re nice,” Sammi said. “I don’t get even a few days of pampering?”

“Maybe a few days.”

In the rearview mirror she saw her mother’s eyes cloud and her smile slip away. Something troubled her, but Sammi didn’t want to ask what it was. With her parents separated and divorce in the cards, she didn’t want any serious discussion at all. Besides, she had a feeling she knew what had crossed her mother’s mind. It had crossed hers as well. At some point she would be well enough to return to school.

Letty and the other girls would still be there, waiting.

Sammi said nothing, and in a few minutes they pulled into the driveway and all of her concerns evaporated. Just being home made her elated. Carefully she climbed from the car and hurried to the front door as her father grabbed her overnight bag.

Once the door had closed behind them and the three of them stood in the foyer, the awkwardness of the moment became too much for Sammi. As her father put her bag down, she clutched her new phone and faced them.

“If you guys don’t mind, I want to lie down.”

“Of course, Sammi. Go on up, honey. Do you need help?”

“No thanks. I’m good.”

She started to walk gingerly up the stairs, wary of any sudden moves.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sam,” her father said.

She paused, a rush of sadness sweeping over her. Knowing that her parents were splitting had been one thing, but being here at home and having her dad say goodbye, going off to wherever he was staying now…it became all too real. As she turned, she could not hide her sadness, and when she spoke, she knew her bitterness would come out.

Instead, she forced herself to smile and just nodded. Her father was not fooled. In that moment she saw his own pain and regret but could not feel sympathy for him.

Sammi went up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom. She heard her parents start speaking soft and low to one another. Her door hung open, and she stepped into her room. A wave of relief washed over her. Here she finally felt at home.

She bit her lower lip and shut the door behind her, staring at her bed, at her bookshelf piled with mysteries, and at her guitar sitting patiently on the stand in the corner.

She felt like crying but would not allow herself to do so. The emotion welling up within her came from entering her bedroom and realizing that until this very moment, she had felt endangered.

But here, she was
safe.

It meant the world to her.

She tossed her new phone onto the bed and walked over to her guitar. Reaching out with her good hand, she ran her thumb over the strings. The sound that came from the instrument gave her even greater solace.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she managed to get her shoes off and then lay back on a stack of three pillows. She usually slept on two, but her mother must have left her the third to prop her up. The remote control for the little TV in her room was on her nightstand but she ignored it. Instead, she picked up the cherry red phone and flipped it open.

The number was already programmed in. All she had to do was punch a couple of buttons. A glance at the clock told her it was after three o’clock. Adam ought to be home from school by now. She wondered if he had blown her off, or if he had left her messages on her lost cell phone and thought she had been ignoring him.

She called.

On the fourth ring, she almost hung up, unaccountably nervous. On the fifth ring, Adam answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, stranger.”

A pause. “Sammi?”

“Yeah. Hi.”

His laugh was more like a snicker. “Damn, you’re unbelievable. What the hell do you want?”

She froze. Of all the reactions he might have given, she would never have expected this one.

“I…I just hadn’t talked to you and thought I should call. I didn’t know if you knew I was in the hospital, and I lost my cell phone and—”

“You lost your cell, huh? Please. How stupid do you think I am? You act like a total bitch and a complete sleaze, you send me all those texts, tell me I’m a loser, and now, what? Did you change your mind? I’m not a loser anymore? You screwed every other guy in the Merrimack Valley and you’re bored, so now you want to mess with me again? Well, no thanks, Sammi. Really, no thanks. Once was enough.”

Her mind reeled, thoughts racing. What was he talking about? She hadn’t sent him any text messages.

“I didn’t…Adam, I was in the hospital.”

“I hope it was a mental hospital. Their big mistake was letting you out.”

Sammi flinched at his cruelty and sat up, her face and chest aching deeply. On the edge of the bed, she hung her head, pushing her fingers through her hair, trying to make sense of his words through their sting. If Sammi hadn’t sent him those texts, then someone else had to have done it. And the last place she had her phone had been in the parking lot, when Katsuko, T.Q., Letty, and Caryn had been beating on her.

Oh, you incredible bitches,
she thought, the realization stealing her breath away. She’d been telling herself that they were not in control of their actions, but at that moment she didn’t care. Right then, she hated them.