Blind Spot (40 page)

She turned back to the computer. She had to fax the evaluation to Mike in two hours. Although he had told her to forget it, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She had made a commitment and she would honor it. Even she knew she was being stupid. But what else did she have to do?

Kenneth had finally convinced her to leave the jail; as much as she wanted to be with Alexa, Suki could see her presence was little comfort. Suki couldn’t go into the cell, and Alexa couldn’t come out. So Suki had to sit at the matron’s desk, Kenneth at her side, staring through the glass door. Sometimes Alexa stared back, once she had even waved, but for the last couple of hours she had curled herself up on the bench, back to the door. Suki had thought about giving her another sleeping pill, but knew it had to wait until evening. Just as she, too, must wait until evening for her escape. It would be too easy to begin drugging themselves against the pain. And who knew when all this would end.

“Go,” Kenneth had said. “I’ll stay with her.”

“I can’t,” Suki told him. But she finally had. She went home and checked on Kyle, who assured her he was doing fine, although she could see that he wasn’t, then showered and came to the office. She called Kenneth as soon as she arrived, and he assured her that Alexa was doing fine, although Suki was certain that she wasn’t either. Kenneth said they were having an interesting discussion. Suki wondered if they were talking about Doris Sheketoff.

Kenneth had also helped with Stan. He managed to get through to some frontier patrol in New Zealand and convince them to launch a search. No promises had been made—apparently finding a small party in the outback was a needle-and-haystack game—but at least someone was looking. Suki was extremely grateful to Kenneth. And to Karen Adler, whose kindness had only begun at Alexa’s processing. Karen had stayed in the cell with Alexa until she fell asleep, talking to her, soothing her, making her feel as safe as she could feel under the circumstances.

Suki tried again to focus on the computer screen, on the conclusion of the evaluation. She imagined she smelled something burning, got up and checked the cold coffee pot and returned to her desk. This section synthesized all the previously presented data and the opinions derived from it: a summary of her logic chain, akin to the proof for a complicated algebraic equation. Although this was usually her favorite part of an eval, and even with the pressure of the deadline lying heavy across her shoulders, Suki couldn’t concentrate. She really could use some coffee. She could swear she smelled smoke. She thought she heard rustling outside. She stood and peered out the window.

There was no one about. The building was empty; she could feel it, despite the imagined rustling. Anyone with any sense wouldn’t be at work anyway, they would be out, relishing the day. On the far side of the park there were probably plenty of people: playing tennis, eating picnic lunches, swinging on swings. On this side there was no one but she. Suki promised herself that if she ever got her life back, if normalcy ever returned, she would savor those moments of simple happiness, those afternoons in the sun. So trivial. So important.

“No,” she said to the empty room. She would not succumb to despondency and self-pity. It served no good purpose and could easily serve a bad one. Alexa would be home in two days. At the trial, Mike would show those boys to be the lying bastards they were. Then it would be over. They would survive and go on to enjoy the sun.

Suki sat down and read the last sentence she had written. It was in support of her contention that Lindsey was mentally ill.

Ms. Kern’s hallucinations and delusions have been documented by mental health professionals since her early childhood, and were particularly apparent in the weeks preceding the death of Richard Stoddard when she claimed to speak with ghosts and to be threatened and stalked by inanimate objects.

Slowly, she began to type:

These events have continued into the present. In conjunction with aberrant scores on recent batteries of psychological and neurological tests, during the last month, Ms. Kern repeatedly expressed her belief that her spirit could leave her body, that she could visualize lost items and find missing children, that she had the power to see into the future.

Suki reread her words but wouldn’t let herself think about them. What they meant. What they didn’t mean. She had to finish the evaluation. Complete her obligation. Get her check. She bent over the keyboard and commenced typing. It was just a job, she told herself. Just a job.

In a few minutes, she held the completed report in her hand: Lindsey’s ticket out of Watkins. An all-expenses-paid visit to Bridgeriver State, Massachusetts’ guest house for the criminally insane. Another kind of hell. Suki remembered a lecture from one of her law courses. “A forensic psychologist doesn’t fire the gun,” the professor had said. “He or she just supplies the bullets.” It was the jury who would pull the trigger. She had done what she had to do. Her job was over.

The automatic feed on the fax machine was broken, so Suki had to guide each sheet through by hand. She should have felt relief, watching the pages disappear and reemerge, knowing they were reaching their destination an hour before the promised time. But all she felt was exhausted. Exhausted and haunted. Haunted by what she had written—and by what was left unsaid.

She scooped up the last page as it slid from the machine and sat back down at the desk, staring at the report lying before her. She had used Lindsey’s belief that she could see into the future as evidence of her mental illness. Suki shivered, although a wide swatch of sunlight was falling across her body, for she could still hear Lindsey’s words: “
There really are only two possible explanations when a person correctly predicts a future event. Either she’s precognitive or she’s going to make the event happen herself
.”

Suki dropped her head to the desk. This was indeed the bleakest moment.

Suki was awakened by her own coughing. She opened her eyes, disoriented. It was foggy, yet light. Familiar, yet foreign. Was she still asleep, dreaming? She blinked as her thoughts moved sluggishly toward understanding. Her office. She was in her office. She jumped up from her chair. It was dusk. She had slept the entire day away. She had to go to Alexa.

Suki’s throat hurt and her chest felt constricted. She began to cough violently. She looked around for the jug of spring water and realized she was dizzy. Tears poured from her eyes, and when she blinked them away, she saw it wasn’t the shadows of dusk darkening the room, it was billows of smoke. She heard crackling inside the walls. Felt the heat. Fire.

Suki tried to remember what you were supposed to do. Stay low. Feel doors before you opened them. Wrap your head in a towel. Breathe into a handkerchief. But she did none of these things. She stood, frozen, immobilized by the thought that this was no accident. Fire. Fire and danger and a ring with a Hebrew letter on it. Smoke pushed under the door and the room was incredibly hot. Suki dropped to the floor, then jumped up again and grabbed the phone. It was dead. Someone had cut the wires. Set the fire. Someone who wanted to keep her from discovering what had really happened the night Jonah died.

Suki began to cough. Out. She had to get out. The antique farmhouse was made completely of wood. Lots of old wiring. Old insulation. It would go up in a flash. She didn’t have much time. She thought of Alexa and Kyle and scrambled on all fours through the outer office to the hallway door; she pressed her palm to it. It was hot. Very hot. If she opened it, she would pull in the flames.

She rose and started to run to the window behind her desk, but as soon as she stood, she was racked by a coughing fit and immediately dropped down again. She pressed her hand over her nose and crawled, coughing, toward her office. A fire escape. There was a fire escape off the window in the second office. She switched direction. The smoke was thicker. It was difficult to see. Harder to breathe. She pushed forward, sucking in as much oxygen as she could between coughs. Crawling. Coughing. To the window. To safety. To air.

Nauseated and dizzy, she kicked the office door closed with her foot and threw herself at the double-hung window. She twisted the latch, but it didn’t move. It was painted shut. Her breath was coming in short gasps. Sweat ran in rivulets down her face. Her eyes burned.

Suki looked around for something, anything, to use to break the metal fastener. She grabbed a stapler off the desk and began pounding the latch. She managed to chip off some of the paint, but the latch wouldn’t budge. She would have to break the window and squeeze herself through—although the window was no larger than two feet by two feet.

She hit the latch with one final, desperate smash. It flew open and the top window dropped slightly. She shoved the window up, punched out the screen, and threw herself onto the fire escape. The air was so sweet, so clean. She closed her eyes and gulped at it like a greedy child, collapsing onto the metal railing. Sirens in the distance. People yelling, running toward her. But Suki couldn’t move. She could only breathe.

Footsteps pounded on the fire escape. Hands grabbed her. “Are you all right?” a female voice asked.

Suki opened her eyes and looked into the face of a pretty woman, her dark hair pulled back in a pony-tail. She had probably been doing exactly what Suki had imagined earlier: enjoying a picnic lunch and playing with her children in the sun. Suki smiled and closed her eyes again. The air was so incredibly sweet.

“Come on,” the woman said. “You can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous. My name’s Helene. Take my arm.”

Suki allowed herself to be led down the stairs. Danger and fire. She looked at Helene’s hand. She wore a simple gold wedding band and a small diamond. No Hebrew letter.

When they reached the ground, the small crowd applauded. “Is there anyone else in there?” a voice called out.

Suki shook her head. “I … I don’t think so,” she managed to say, still leaning against Helene.

At that moment, two fire engines roared into the parking lot, and Suki went weak with relief. She was safe, and the fire would be taken care of. “Thank you,” she said to Helene. “I’m fine.” She pulled away and tried to stand on her own, but her knees buckled and Helene caught her.

“Better sit down anyway.” Helene said, and they started toward a bank of grass that edged the parking lot.

As they crossed the asphalt, Suki peered into the growing crowd, searching for whoever had set the fire, whoever wanted to scare her, possibly kill her, the one who was willing to destroy a young girl’s life to hide his own crimes. Suki knew enough about human nature to know he wouldn’t be able to stay away. He was here. Somewhere close by. Watching her.

“Are you alone?” Helene asked. “Do you want me to call someone to take you home?”

Suki was distracted, scanning the faces, wanting and not wanting to know. “No,” she said, “I mean, yes, but no, you don’t need to call anyone. My car’s right here.”

Helene was unconvinced. “I don’t think you should drive.…”

“I can drive her,” a deep voice said from behind them.

Suki didn’t turn. He was putting his arm around her. Pulling her to him. Assuring Helene he would see to it that Suki saw a doctor and got home safely. A violent tremor rocked her body.

“I’ll take good care of her,” Warren Blanchard said. “I promise.”

“Oh, I’m so glad there’s someone here for her.” Helene smiled at Warren, then squeezed Suki’s arm. “You take care now.”

“Thank you,” Suki said. “You were great, but please don’t leave—”

“No need,” Helene said with a wave. “You’d have done the same for me.” Before Suki could say any more, she disappeared into the crowd.

Warren gripped Suki tightly. “What happened?” he asked, his voice full of concern. “Are you okay?”

Suki couldn’t speak. She looked up into his face, hoping she was wrong, but the cold glint in his eyes negated his words, his actions; it told her everything.

Still holding her close, he rubbed soot from her cheek with his right thumb. “My car’s right down the road. I think Darcy keeps a blanket in the trunk.”

“Must … must talk to the firemen,” Suki managed to gasp.

“That can wait,” Warren said. “Let’s wrap you up and get you sitting down.” Dots of sweat were gathering on his upper lip, and he kept looking behind him.

Suki’s skin crawled where he was touching her. She wanted to spit in his face, throw his arm off and pummel him with her fists. But he might have a weapon. He was probably powerful enough to kill her without one. She walked along with him, stunned, imagining she smelled gasoline, looking for Darcy’s dark midsize late-model Chevrolet.

“Here we are,” he said as they approached the navy blue Chevy. He led her to the passenger door, pressing her to him with one arm while he reached into his pocket with the other.

Suki struggled to contain her revulsion. His shirt was wet under the arm and the clammy dampness made her want to gag. She covered her queasiness with a cough and swallowed her nausea. Warren appeared unaware she knew what he had done. Acting normally was her only escape. She had to remain calm. Then run like hell as soon as he let go of her.

But he didn’t let go. He continued to hold her. Firmly, almost frantically. He was strong, and Suki knew it would be both futile and stupid to resist. “Keys,” he muttered to himself. “Keys.” He looked back at the burning building, then down at his pocket as if he had never seen his pants before.

Maybe he was more aware than she thought. She would be a fool to underestimate him. “Thanks,” she whispered so softly she feared he hadn’t heard. “Thanks,” she said again.

“Aha!” Warren raised a set of keys, and his eyes gleamed in triumph as he placed the key in the lock. A gold charm dangled from the key chain. A charm in the shape of a letter. A Hebrew letter.

Suki gasped.

“What is it?” Warren grabbed her by the shoulders. “Are you going to faint? You’re completely white.”

“Shock,” Suki mumbled. “Shock.”

He swung the door open and pushed her down into the seat. “Sit.” He rolled down the window, shut the door and leaned in toward her. “Rest your head back. Get some air. Breathe deep.” Before Suki could gather her wits, he was around the car and beside her in the driver’s seat. He took her hand and slipped the key in the ignition. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”