Blind Spot (15 page)

She was tired, having stayed up until almost two o’clock in the morning working on the Kern report, although, she had to admit, she had been distracted by thoughts of Alexa. About Alexa’s dream. About the prediction, the alibi, the abortion, the motive, the impending arrest. There was so much to worry about that her head was spinning. So much, in fact, that even a champion-caliber worrier such as she was having trouble keeping on track. Suki smiled wryly and kicked a good-sized rock over the edge of the bluff.

Last night, when reading Naomi Braverman’s treatment notes, Suki had been struck by what Lindsey had called her “daymares,” visions or hallucinations she experienced while awake. Lindsey had also complained of nightmares and headaches and blackouts and violent mood swings. Could Alexa suffer from temporal lobe epilepsy? Although TLE might explain Alexa’s hallucination of Jonah’s death and her nightmares, it didn’t explain the uncanny accuracy with which her visions mirrored actual events.

Suki hoped to talk to both Naomi and Dr. Smith-Holt, the neurologist who had tested Lindsey at Mass General, this morning—she
had
to talk to them both if she was going to get the first section of the report to Mike by the end of the day. She could ask about Alexa’s symptoms. Schedule tests. She threw another rock into the stream. If it turned out that Alexa did indeed have TLE, would this be good or bad news?

Suki heard pounding behind her. She quickly dropped one knee to the pavement and pretended to be tying her shoe. Warren Blanchard was rounding the bend of Country Club Lane. She felt a bit duplicitous about staging this meeting, but figured the morality, or more precisely, the immorality, of the encounter was the least of her worries. She stood up and turned toward him. He nodded and kept running.

“Warren?” she called, as if she had just had the idea to speak to him.

He turned and ran back to where she was standing. He looked at her expectantly as he ran in place, his ponytail slapping the back of his neck.

“Hi.” Suki shifted from one foot to the other.

“Hi,” Warren said and stopped running. He pulled a small towel from the back of his belt and wiped his face. He hiked up his left sock. “You, ah, you doing okay?”

“As well as can be expected, I suppose.” She tried to smile but could feel from the downward tug of the corner of her mouth that she wasn’t succeeding. “Better than I would have guessed.”

“How ’bout Alexa?” he asked.

“Hard to tell.” She shrugged. “Even under the best of circumstances, teenagers are usually far from okay.”

Warren started jogging in place again. “I’m, ah, I’m kind of in a rush this morning. Early class. So I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get—”

“I only need a minute,” Suki interrupted. “I know it’s a lot to ask, and that given the circumstances, you’d have every right to turn me down, but Alexa didn’t do it, and I think you know that, and you’re the only one I can think of who can help me with this.”

“I don’t understand.” He continued jogging.

“It’s Finlay,” she said in a rush. “Finlay Thompson. Ellery got him to quit his job and I don’t know where he is.”

“I don’t see how I can help you.” Warren had the look of a man extremely anxious to be on his way.

“You could find out where he is,” Suki said quickly. “And I just thought, I just knew that you’d care about what really happened to Jonah, about who really killed him.” She pulled out all the stops. “If you don’t want to do it for me, do it for your sister—for Jonah.”

Warren stopped jogging. “You want to talk to Finlay about that night?”

Suki nodded.

“How about the police?”

“They’re not interested in anything that might clear Alexa,” Suki said. “They’re only interested in making the easiest arrest—and apparently so is the town council.”

Warren looked into the woods. “You think Ellery got Finlay to lie for him?” he asked.

“Don’t you?” she countered.

Warren put his left heel on the pavement and leaned forward, chin jutting over his knee. He did the same to the right. “So I find out where Finlay is, and then you go there and get him to change his story?”

“That’s the general plan.”

“And Finlay’s going to up and admit he lied to the police? To the newspapers?” Warren raised his eyebrows. “He’s going to get himself in trouble, big trouble, just because you ask him to?”

“He’s going to do it because it’s the right thing to do,” Suki said. “Because Finlay’s a good person and this has got to be eating him up alive.”

Warren stuffed his fists into the pockets of his running shorts then began to roll a large pebble beneath the sole of his sneaker. Back and forth. Back and forth against the asphalt. He watched the pebble as if fascinated by its movement, then kicked it across the stream. “I suppose it’s possible,” he finally said, eyeing Judi’s rocky backyard. “If your underlying suppositions are correct.”

“Oh, they’re correct,” she said, encouraged by his words, if not by his body language. “You don’t really think Alexa was driving around alone that night, with a loaded gun on the seat, looking to kill Jonah, do you?”

Warren jerked his head up.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Warren.” Suki reached out for his arm. “That was a stupid, horrid thing to say.”

He dismissed her apologies with the shake of his head. “No,” he said softly. “No, I don’t suppose she was.”

“Please,” Suki continued, upset by the emotion that choked his voice. “You’ve got to excuse me, I’m not thinking clearly. I’m so wrapped up in my own—”

“Don’t.” Warren held up his hands to stop her words. “I hate it when those damn government agencies start pursuing their own agendas. When the little guy gets screwed. Sure,” he said. “Sure, I’ll be glad to try to help you. More than glad.”

Suki smiled in relief. “Thanks,” she said. “Thanks a lot.”

“No need.” Warren took a deep breath and began to jog in place again. “We’re both after the same thing, aren’t we?”

They discussed the details of how Warren might discover Finlay’s location and when he would call her. He even offered to join her when she confronted Finlay, noting that two accusers might be more persuasive than one. Suki was so surprised by the offer that she agreed it might be good, although she was not at all certain it would be. As she watched Warren take off down Roaring Brook, his legs covering the distance in his effortless yet powerful stride, she couldn’t help but notice how nicely defined the muscles of his body were, how gracefully he moved. Then she checked her watch and headed home.

Despite her abbreviated exercise, Suki felt surprisingly good as she power-walked the half mile back to her house. If Jonah’s uncle could be convinced Alexa was innocent, then other people could be, too.

When Suki got home both Kyle and Alexa were already at the kitchen table. From the empty box of Multi-grain Cheerios on the counter—the one she had just bought yesterday—Suki guessed Kyle was on at least his third bowl of cereal. Alexa was drinking a cup a black coffee. Occasionally she nibbled on a Saltine.

“Good news, Alexa.” Suki poured herself a glass of orange juice and leaned against the sink. “Warren Blanchard’s going to help us break the boys’ alibi.”

“Coach,” Kyle said, then turned his attention back to his cereal.

“I don’t understand.” Alexa put down her coffee cup. “How can he help?”

Suki explained why she wanted to talk to Finlay, one of the many things she hadn’t had the time to discuss with Alexa, then described her visit to the rec center.

Alexa’s jaw tightened as she listened to what Ellery had done. “Asshole,” she muttered.

Suki let it go. She told Alexa and Kyle how she had waited for Warren and asked him to help her find out where Finlay might have gone.

“Awesome.” Kyle held his spoon in the air and looked at her approvingly. “Like a PI flick.”

“This is no
PI flick
,” Alexa snapped. “This is real life. My life. And we don’t need Mr. Blanchard’s help.”

“Coach is cool,” Kyle argued.

Alexa punched her brother in the arm. “Like you know what’s cool.”

He pushed her hands away as if he were swatting at a pesky mosquito. “Get out of my face.”

Before Suki could admonish them, Alexa jumped from her seat. “I don’t want you running around with Mr. Blanchard,” she said.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Suki smiled inwardly at Alexa’s choice of words: as if she, rather than Suki, were the parent. “Warren Blanchard is one of the few people around here who seems willing to help—”

“I don’t care what he’s willing to do,” Alexa interrupted. “He just wants to get into your pants—”

“Alexa!” Suki was stunned.

“Well it’s the truth and you should know it. You never appreciated Daddy. That’s why he left. You were too busy with everything else.”

“You know that just isn’t—”

“It is,” Alexa interrupted, her voice rising. “You and Kyle were always too busy. With work, with your stupid library board, with Kyle’s dumb soccer games. And neither of you miss Daddy now. You don’t care that he’s gone. You like it. I’m the only one who cares. The only one who misses him!” She slammed her chest with the flat of her hand. “Only me!” Then she burst into tears and ran out of the room.

Suki looked at Kyle.

“She’s really gone over this time.” He scooped up the last of his cereal, then raised his head from his bowl. “Think you could make me a couple English muffins?”

Suki opened the freezer and dropped a package of frozen muffins on the table. Kyle had the grace to look embarrassed. “Make them yourself,” she said, then turned and followed Alexa to her bedroom.

Suki knocked with what she hoped was an upbeat tap. “Alexa?” she called. “Alexa, honey, let me in.”

“It’s open.” Alexa’s voice was empty of emotion. Barren. Dead. She was seated cross-legged on the bed. Her eyes were closed and she was massaging her temples.

Alexa had been such a beautiful baby, the kind people were always stopping to admire in malls and on the street. She and Stan used to complain that they couldn’t get through a meal in a restaurant without someone interrupting them to fawn over the little girl. But of course, they loved every minute of it. So long ago, those days of jelly-covered fingers and tiny blue sneakers. “Headache?” Suki asked.

“It’s like my forehead’s being pounded from the inside out.”

Suki sat down next to Alexa, who winced as the bed shifted, and pressed her lips to her daughter’s forehead. It was clear Alexa needed more help than she was getting. “Honey,” she said slowly, “you’ve been through so much the last couple of weeks. You can’t handle this alone.” Suki took Alexa’s fingers in hers and rubbed them between her palms, trying to bring some warmth to the icy skin. “We need to talk. You need to tell me how you’re feeling so I can help you. So we can figure out if we need to get you more help than I can—”

“I want Daddy!” Alexa threw herself at her mother and began sobbing again. “Daddy’s all the help that I need.”

“I tried to reach him again last night,” Suki said. “I’ve left word everywhere I can think of. With everyone I can think of. I’m sure he’ll call as soon as he can. As soon as he gets the message.” As much as Stan’s abandonment had hurt Suki, his abandonment of the children had hurt her more, but never as much as it did now, as Alexa sobbed in her arms for the father she didn’t have. The father she would never have. Even if he walked through the door right this minute.

“Do you think he’ll come home when he hears?” Alexa raised her tear-streaked face.

“I’m sure he will, honey,” Suki said, although she was far from certain: Stan’s selfishness knew no bounds. “I’m sure he will.”

Alexa grabbed a tissue from the box on her end table. She blew her nose. “Remember when I had that dream?” she asked, then blew her nose again. “When I was a little girl?”

“Which one?”

“The one where the house was on fire.” Alexa didn’t need to elaborate because they both knew the end of the story. A month after Alexa’s dream, a fire had started in the basement. Suki hadn’t been home when it happened, but Stan, who was upstairs with Kyle, was alerted by a smoke detector. The fire was extinguished without too much damage to the house, or any to Alexa, who had been playing down there at the time. Stan had immediately purchased and installed another dozen smoke detectors. Even now, a puff of burning toast sent alarms blaring all over the house.

Suki wondered if she should tell Alexa about optical isomers and Doris Sheketoff, or if the fact that she was considering that precognition might be possible would upset Alexa even more, perhaps encourage more episodes. “And you think predicting the fire was the same as predicting Jonah’s death?” Suki asked.

Alexa pressed her forehead into her palm.

“Alexa,” Suki said softly. “Do you remember the dream you had last night? Do you remember calling out? Talking to me?”

Alexa shook her head and dropped back onto her pillow.

Suki looked at Alexa, at her almost skeletal cheekbones, at the hollows of her eye sockets deepened by dark smudges. She looked like the patients in the hospital where Suki had done her training. Like her own mother had looked right before her death.

Alexa opened her eyes. She stared over Suki’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to get involved with Warren Blanchard.”

“I’m not
getting involved
with Warren Blanchard,” Suki tried to explain it in a way Alexa could buy. “I’m getting him to help us prove the boys are lying—to break their alibi. This is something we need very badly and I don’t think I can do it by myself.”

“It’s not worth it,” Alexa argued.

“Sometimes I’m not sure you understand what’s at stake here. I worry—”

“It’s the wrong thing to do,” Alexa interrupted. “Bad for you. Bad for us.”

“It’ll be worse if we don’t get some help. That note from Jonah changes things—it gives you a motive. We’re just lucky the police didn’t find it, because if they had …” Suki caught herself. “It’s just important that we break the boys’ alibi as soon as possible.”

“But I can see it,” Alexa said. “I’m not making it up. It’s wrong. Bad. I can see these things—you can’t!”

“Are you telling me that you
see
that breaking the boys’ alibi is bad the way you
saw
that Jonah was going to be shot?” Suki asked.