In the Dark (34 page)

 

“Hello?” she called. “Finn?”

 

No one answered.

 

She did a nervous survey of the downstairs space. The kitchen was small, with avocado appliances that hadn’t been replaced in years. The screen door to the backyard was tattered, its mesh hanging down from the corner. She pushed open a door and found a small toilet, no bigger than a closet, with a bare bulb hanging overhead for light and an empty pill bottle on the ledge of the sink. Tamoxifen. She felt a stab of sympathy for Rikke.

 

Back in the living room, she saw the narrow steps near the front door that led to the second floor. She hesitated at the base of the stairway.

 

“Finn?” she called again.

 

Tish climbed the stairs, wincing at the noise as her feet pushed down on the warped slabs of wood. Upstairs, she was faced with a closed door immediately in front of her. Without knowing why, she knew Finn was inside. She didn’t knock. She nudged the door with her foot and waited in the doorway while it swung open.

 

The room was dark, the curtains drawn, letting only cracks of daylight knife through the gloom in narrow, dusty streams. Her eyes adjusted. She saw Finn on the floor, sitting with his back against the bed, his arms hugging his knees. His forearms were swaddled in white bandages. He wore underwear but nothing else.

 

“It’s me, Finn,” she said. “Tish.”

 

His eyes were lost in the shadows. He didn’t look at her, and she wasn’t sure if he knew she was there. Then he spoke in a tired voice. “You should go, she’ll be back soon.”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

“She won’t want to see you.”

 

“I’m here to see you. How are you?”

 

“How am I?” Finn said. “I wish I was dead.”

 

“Don’t say that. You’re lucky.”

 

“Yeah. People see me, they say, there goes a lucky man.”

 

Tish sat down on the floor next to Finn and slid an arm around his shoulder. His bare skin was clammy. “Maybe you should be in bed.”

 

“I’ve been in bed for days. I pretended to be asleep so Rikke would finally leave me alone. She’s afraid of what I’ll do.”

 

“Does she have reason to be afraid?”

 

“You mean, will I do it again? I want to, but I’m a coward. How pathetic is that?”

 

“I feel guilty,” Tish told him. “Like I did this to you by coming back.”

 

“It’s not your fault.”

 

“Then why did you do it?” she asked. “Was it because of Laura’s murder? Did you remember something more?”

 

Finn squeezed his eyes shut. A tear bloomed like a rose out of the corner of his eye and trickled past his nose to the corner of his mouth. “Everyone wants me to remember, but I don’t.”

 

“I think you do.”

 

Finn shook his head. “I never should have gone to the park that night.”

 

“Then why did you?”

 

“Because I can’t stop!” Finn exclaimed. “Don’t you get it? I’ve never been able to stop.”

 

“Stop what?”

 

He clenched his fists. “Watching. That’s who I am. I’m a watcher.”

 

“You mean the young girls in their bedrooms?” Tish asked. “That was you?”

 

He put his face in his hands and nodded.

 

“Why, Finn?”

 

“You think it’s my choice? You think I want to be like this?” He stared at the floor and added, “Mom made me watch. I didn’t even know what was going on, but she made me watch. I hated her for that.”

 

Tish stared at the bed and began to understand. “Did you watch Laura?” she asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Here. I would watch her in bed when she stayed with us.”

 

“Did she know?”

 

“No. Not at first.”

 

“You said you were in love with her, Finn. How could you do that to someone you loved?”

 

“I told you. I can’t stop. I wish I could gouge my eyes out.”

 

“Did you know Laura was going to be in the park that night?”

 

Finn’s head bobbed.

 

“How did you know?” Tish asked.

 

“She told me. I knew she was running away. It was my fault. I scared her.”

 

“Did she find out you were spying on her?”

 

“Yes. I told her everything. I had to. But it was a mistake. She didn’t understand.”

 

“You kept following her after the fight with Peter, didn’t you? You followed her all the way to the beach.”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe I did.”

 

Tish felt as if she were being suffocated. “What happened?”

 

“I don’t remember,” he said.

 

“Finn, you have to tell me.”

 

“
I don’t remember
.”

 

Tish closed her eyes and leaned close to him, smelling his sweat and fear, murmuring in his ear. “You’re so close. What did you see?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Do you ever dream about it?” she asked.

 

“No. I don’t dream.”

 

“I bet you do, Finn.”

 

“Go. Just go. Get away from me.”

 

“Tell me about your dreams.”

 

Finn shook his head mutely. She knew he was ready to break.

 

“Tell me,” she repeated.

 

“I have nightmares,” he whispered. “I’ve had them for years.”

 

“About what? What do you see?”

 

“Blood.”

 

Tish waited.

 

“There’s so much blood,” he said. “It’s all over her.”

 

“What else?”

 

“Noise. Like something sucking. Gurgling. And the wind. Except it’s not the wind. It whooshes. Like a bird’s wings.”

 

“What is it?” Tish asked. But she knew.

 

Finn’s eyes grew wide, and his mouth opened into a hole like the entrance to a cave. “It’s the bat. I can see it going up and down. Up and down. I can’t make it stop. Somebody make it stop!”

 

He stared at his hands. His bandaged hands.

 

“I killed her,” he said. “Don’t you understand?
I killed her
.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

35
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Who killed her?” Stride asked Hubert Jones.

 

“I have no idea.”

 

Stride shook his head in frustration. “Then why are we here?” Jones tilted his bottle of beer and drained it, then dabbed at his puffy lips with a napkin. They had relocated to a quiet table in the rear of a bar in Terminal 5.

 

“I never said I knew who killed that girl,” Jones said. “I only know that it wasn’t me. When I last saw her, she was alive. I was shocked when word spread at the tracks that she had been murdered.”

 

“Why not come forward?”

 

Jones chuckled and shook his head. “When a white girl gets murdered, the first question that the police ask is, ‘Who was the nearest black man?’ You said yourself, the cop on the case was dirty. I knew what was coming. I knew I had to get out of town.”

 

“You said Laura had secrets,” Stride said.

 

“Yes, she did. I knew it the moment I saw this girl.”

 

“When was that?” Stride asked.

 

“In the woods. I saw her pass me no farther away than you are now, but
she didn’t even see me. She was determined. She had a destination in her heart. It was in her walk and how she held her backpack. I looked at her and I thought to myself, tomorrow this girl will be gone. Not gone as in dead, mind you. Gone as in somewhere else. Gone as in starting a new life.”

 

Stride wasn’t convinced. “Tell me about the fight in the softball field.”

 

“I heard the girl scream. I came upon the two of them in the long grass. The boy had her pinned. He was kissing her, tearing at her clothes, and she was fighting back, beating at him.”

 

Stride waited.

 

“I became enraged,” Jones continued. “To me, rape is the ultimate disrespect. It’s the barbarian who strips a woman of her soul.”

 

“Exactly what did you do?”

 

“I saw something in the grass. A baseball bat. I picked it up and struck the boy in the back. I jabbed it like a spear and heard his ribs breaking. He let go of the girl, and I picked him up bodily and threw him into the weeds. When I bent over to see to the girl, the boy launched himself at me again. I hit him in the face then. He fell backward. He was unconscious.”

 

“What about the girl?”

 

“She ran into the woods.”

 

“The boy who attacked her—was this the same person you heard near you? The one who was smoking marijuana?”

 

Jones thought about it. “No.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“I’m sure. You know what that park was like in the summer, Lieutenant. There were lurkers everywhere.”

 

“What about Laura?” Stride asked. “Did you go after her when she ran?”

 

“Of course. I wanted to see if she was all right. That was foolish of me, I know. In her state, she probably didn’t even realize who had attacked her. She could easily have assumed it was me. Not many white teenage girls like to find a large black man chasing them through the woods anyway.”

 

“Did you take the baseball bat with you?”

 

“No, I left it behind.”

 

“Weren’t you afraid the boy would come after you with it?”

 

“He wasn’t in much shape to follow me.”

 

“You’re certain you didn’t take the bat,” Stride repeated.

 

“Yes.”

 

“The police matched your fingerprints to it.”

 

“Like I told you, I picked it up. I hit the boy.”

 

“Laura was killed with that bat,” Stride said. “The police found it near her body on the beach almost a mile away. How did it get there?”

 

“Obviously, someone carried it, but not me.”

 

“Do you have any idea who could have done that?”

 

“No, but I already told you that someone else was in the woods.”

 

“Could Laura have taken the bat with her?”

 

“No, she just ran.”

 

“You said you followed her,” Stride said. “What happened then?”

 

Jones steepled his fingers under the folds of his chin. “First, let me ask you something. Do you still consider me a suspect?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“At least you’re honest.”

 

“You were there. Your fingerprints are on the murder weapon. You fled the city.”

 

“I’ve explained all of those things.”

 

“Except I have no way of knowing if you’re telling the truth,” Stride said. “Keep going. Tell me about Laura.”

 

Jones settled into the plastic-and-steel airport chair, which groaned in protest under his weight. “At first, I thought I had lost her. I thought she had made her way out of the park.”

 

“Did you find her?”

 

“Yes, the trail wound along the lake to another beach. I saw her there.”

 

“Did you speak to her?” Stride asked.

 

“Oh, no, she had no idea I was there.”

 

“Was this the beach where her body was found?”

 

“I assume so.”

 

“But she was alive?”

 

“Very much so.”

 

“Did she have the bat with her?”

 

“I told you, no.”

 

“Then what happened?”

 

“I left.”

 

“Just like that?” Stride asked.

 

“The girl was safe. There was nothing else I could do. I wasn’t going to help her by announcing myself.”

 

“We found semen at the edge of the clearing near the beach. Was it yours?”

 

His eyebrows arched. “Semen? No.”

 

“Did you go back to the softball field?”

 

“No, I took a different trail and left the park.”

 

“Did you meet anyone else? Did you see the other person you thought was in the woods?”

 

“No, I didn’t.”

 

“Is that it?” Stride asked. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

 

“There’s nothing else.”

 

Stride leaned across the small table and stared at Jones until the big man blinked uncomfortably. “You’re lying,” he said. “Why bring me all the way out here if you’re not going to tell me the whole story?”

 

“Everything I’ve said is the truth,” Jones insisted.

 

“The question is what you’re leaving out.”

 

“What makes you think I’m leaving anything out?”

 

“
The girl had secrets,
” Stride said. “That’s what you keep saying. I think you know something else about Laura. Something
specific
. I want to know what it is and why you’re covering it up. Until you tell me, you’re not getting on that plane.”

 

Jones ran his tongue across his white teeth and smiled.

 

“You saw something, didn’t you?” Stride asked.

 

“Yes, I did.”

 

“What was it? What did you see when you found Laura on the beach?”

 

“I’m not sure it will help anyone if I tell you. Least of all the girl who was killed.”

 

“Let me decide that,” Stride said.

 

“What I saw was innocent and beautiful. There was no violence.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

Jones sighed. “Laura wasn’t alone.”

 

“
Who was she with?
”

 

“I don’t know. It was no one who would have killed her. They were kissing. They were in love. You can understand why I didn’t bother intervening at that point. They didn’t want me around.”

 

“What did he look like?” Stride asked. “Laura’s lover.”

 

Jones shook his head. “Laura had the kind of lover you didn’t talk about back then. It wasn’t a boy, Lieutenant. It was another girl. Laura was on the beach with a blond girl about the same age. They were holding each other as if they never wanted to let go.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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