Beware That Girl (36 page)

But I did.

Just before I hit the gas, Olivia said, so softly that I almost didn’t hear her, “After this, we’ll join Daddy in Brazil. We’ll go to Rio.”

“Yeah, we’ll go to Rio.”

“Love you, Kate.”

“Me too, you.”

And then I stepped on the gas.

We started down, bumping, jolting, being tossed about. We hit air, landed.

I’d hit the gas too hard.

We were going too fast, even over the rough terrain. Way too fast. I couldn’t reach the brake pedal, couldn’t find it in the dark. Steep, Jesus. Too steep, too fast, too fast…

“OLIVIA!”

“Jump!”

“Can’t!”

“Now!” she screamed.

“The door!”

Life changed.

“The door won’t open!”

The impact was bone-shattering. The car stopped its hurtling trajectory by crashing into a rock outcrop. But she’d gotten out before then. She was dazed and banged up but okay, mainly. She raced awkwardly down to the car, to her friend. It was bad, so bad.
No, no, no!
She opened the door. There was no problem opening it from the outside.

No! Stop! Think!

It would be dawn soon—cars, traffic, people. Even through the downpour, it was clear that the sky was lightening.

What should she do? What had to be done? What! What!

The body.

She had to get rid of the body. It had to be rolled out and down to the water. The Hudson raged as if it were on steroids. The river would take care of him and take care of them. She ran back around to the driver’s side.

The lap belt was tricky. Her fingers were uncooperative. She did not once raise her head or glance at her friend, focusing totally on the task at hand. Mind-blinding terror did that. She inhaled, exhaled and then locked her arms under his and dragged him out of the car. Miraculously, the body wasn’t as heavy as it had been in the penthouse. But she still had to stop, take a few breaths and reposition herself.

“Come on, come on, you can do this.”

She was crying now. Her crying felt broken. But she wasn’t. Far from it.

“Let’s go, Mark.”

She had to haul the body only a short distance before they got to a very steep pitch. She was breathing heavily but there was no fear. Not for this part.

“Screw you!” She placed her foot firmly against his hip and shoved, hard. “Go straight to hell!”

Redkin’s body rolled and bounced, picking up speed the whole way. No rocks or bushes or tree roots slowed him down.

Straight in the water. First faceup, and then down as it was swept away. Gone, gone, gone. Man, that water was fast. She lost sight of him in seconds and then ran, slipping and sliding in the mud, all the way back to the car.

Oh, God, no. Oh, God. Oh, God. Was she breathing? Was she alive? What a mess.

“You were
supposed
to jump!” she yelled at her friend.

She stepped back just before throwing up. The rain was coming down in sheets now. As she turned back to the car she slipped and opened a wound on her knee that she did not feel.

You should never, ever move a body that has experienced trauma. Never. Everyone knew that. She knew that.

But she had to. She had to somehow get her behind the wheel, or they were finished. The car was supposed to have gone into the Hudson with Redkin in it. This was plan D. She had to…

Her body was as light as a broken branch. It was easy, except that she tried to take such care, and she was sobbing so hard that the snot and slobber were gumming up her gloves. “No, no, you don’t.” Now she was covered in blood as well. “You don’t die on me! Not after all this. Don’t you dare die!”

She belted in her friend and then took the belt off again. How to explain those injuries? She would say that they couldn’t get the darn thing to click in.

She pulled out her phone and hit 911.

“Help! Please help, please! Hurry, hurry!” She pulled off both their gloves and shoved them into the back pocket of her jeans. “My friend…we had an accident. It’s bad. It’s so bad…I’m not sure she’s breathing. Please…I don’t know, past the roundabout just off Route 6 and…I don’t know, I don’t know.” The trees started to sway.
Stop.
She couldn’t pass out. They’d find the gloves on her. She had to tell the dispatcher where they were. She had to, she had to, she had to…

The ambulance came quickly. So did a fire truck staffed with softhearted volunteer firemen.

And so did the police.

6:30 a.m.

She remembered now that she had seen the detective before. Two days ago, when they’d been medevaced to Columbia Presbyterian. She remembered being struck by what a sharp dresser he was. It was a stupid thing to remember. What she did not remember, in the haze of all she had to remember, was what he had wanted to know and what she had already told him. Two uniformed officers ambled about the nurses station. Her stomach constricted. Thank God she’d had the presence of mind to ditch their gloves in a garbage cart during the commotion of their hospital arrival.

Except for the hospital gown that Maureen, the head nurse, had insisted she put on over her bloody clothes, she was still wearing the same things. She hadn’t showered, brushed her teeth or combed her hair. The nurses kept slipping her juice boxes and sandwiches packaged in cellophane. They remained unopened. She was wild with exhaustion.

What must she look like?

What must she smell like?

She had to lie down. Instead, she gathered herself and leaned against the nurses station.

Detective Akimoto cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about the timing of this, but there is some urgency to this matter.”

Urgency?

“The car?”

“No, I’m…no. The Rockland County sheriff made the appropriate calls to the city and the rental agency. Your story checked out. You’re on the hook for haulage and damages, but the manager of Rent-A-Wreck is not going to press charges.” He shook his head in disapproval. “It was a ridiculous thing to do.”

She wondered, with not all that much interest, which part of the “ridiculous thing” he was referring to.

“There may be some insurance questions. And why two young ladies of means would decide on a whim to bribe a stranger to rent them an old heap is—”

“Crazy stupid,” she finished for him. “I know, I know.” She put her head in her hands. “At least I do now. But we honestly thought it would be the perfect practice car. Like, if we dinged it, it wouldn’t matter, right? It was a wreck already. We needed to practice roundabouts.” She wrapped her arms around herself. It all slipped out like butter. “See, we’re going to England for a few days to surprise all our friends. They’re there already. And Serena said that you can’t spit without coming across a roundabout. What idiots, what…” She shook her head.

“Well, as I say, charges don’t seem to be pending from either the rental car manager or the sheriff. You were on a dark, wet and unfamiliar road. The Rockland County officers said it happens to far more experienced drivers all the time.”

Thank God for the rain.
“Yeah, the rain came out of nowhere.” She didn’t recognize her voice. It was older.

He cleared his throat. “So I’m sure you’ll be fine on that count, insurance issues aside. And I hope your friend will be fine too, of course.”

But he looked doubtful. She wanted to slap him for that but didn’t have the energy.

“My primary concern here is Mr. Mark Redkin.”

Mark. Oh, God, oh, God.
They found the
body
!

Where did they find the body?

The detective clicked his pen over and over again. The sound reverberated in her bone marrow.

The body. Did it wash up?

Was it close to the accident scene?

We’re done. It’s over. No, stop it. Concentrate. Keep it together. Keep it…

“I’m sorry, did you say Mr. Redkin?”

“Yes, Mr. Redkin seems to have disappeared, and we’re very interested in locating him. Most of the staff and other students are away on spring break, but I understand that you girls knew him.” The detective flipped through his little notepad. “That you were part of a fund-raising group he was in charge of.”

“Mr. Redkin?”
They hadn’t found him!
The room spun, but she stopped it through sheer force of will. “Well, I don’t know. Like you said, it’s spring break. He’s probably gone off somewhere.” She braced herself on the counter.

The detective seemed to consider something as he looked at her. “No. We’ve confirmed that he has not booked any trips, nor did he pack for such an occasion.”

What? How would they know? They had to have been in his apartment. But why? When? What was happening?

“I’m sure he’s fine.” She feigned confusion. “I wouldn’t worry—”

“It’s a good deal more serious than that. There’s a warrant out for his arrest. We received a credible tip several days ago that the man is likely a sexual predator. He’s also being investigated for some disappearances.”

Tip? What? Who would have…Johnny? Serena? One of the families making the connection?
She needed to unfog.
Pay attention! What was he saying?

“What? No way. Not Mr. Redkin.”

“I’m afraid so. Apparently there has been an open Interpol file on him for years. We’ll be speaking to everyone at the school. I understand that you and your friend were closer to him than most as part of”—he glanced at his notebook—“some fund-raising committee? We got that information confirmed with”—again he consulted his notebook—“your head, Ms. Goodlace. She was in fact very concerned about your safety. In your interactions with Mr. Redkin, has he ever approached you, either of you, in an unseemly or inappropriate manner? This is very important.”

The detective didn’t seem to care enough for her fragility, her well-being. She had to step it up a notch.

“No! Mr. Redkin? I won’t believe it. He was nice to all of us.” She swayed, then caught herself. “I-It’s too much on top of…I don’t…”

The detective reached over and steadied her. “Have you been attended to?”

She waved him off.

“It’s not possible. Talk to the other girls, and you’ll see. He was kind of flirty with all of us on the Waverly Wonders—that’s our group—but nothing weird.”
No way would Serena talk.
“I’d know about it. We had crushes on him, you know? Silly stuff. The whole school had a crush on him. This is crazy.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t. I need you to take it seriously. We need to find him and get him off the streets.”

She kept shaking her head. “But one of us would have noticed something.”

The detective stopped clicking his pen, sighed and seemed to come to a decision. “There was, in fact, irrefutable evidence in his apartment.”

The album. They would have found the album.

It’s okay. Their photos were gone.

“I need to press upon you why this is so urgent. We found a photo album full of pictures of young women, many of whom seem to be missing or have died in what can now only be called suspicious circumstances. You must remain alert. If you have any information whatsoever about his whereabouts, or if he tries to contact you—”

“What? Are any of us in that…?”

“We don’t believe so. Not from Waverly. But we suspect it was just a matter of time. It’s a trophy album. He is a very dangerous predator. You must understand this. Is there anything you can remember that might be of help in locating him? Anything at all?”

“All I know is that he moved around a lot.” She shrugged. “I mean, he was staff, you know? Maybe Claire or Morgan or…” She swayed again.

“You’re exhausted. I can get one of the uniforms to take you home.”

“No. I have to stay here. I need to be with…”

“I’m sure the doctors will keep you informed of any progress.”

“Save your breath, Detective.” It was Maureen. “She needs to stay here. Give me your card. If she remembers anything, the kid’ll call. But I don’t think either of them is going to be any use to you. They’ve got bigger fish to fry than catching your perp for you. Right now, she needs to be with her friend.” Maureen shot the detective a look that would stop a bullet.