“Like what?”
He raised his head and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Money?”
“You really think money’s going to make everything okay for her?”
“No, but it could help. By the time she’s old enough for college, I’ll have my trust fund. It’s more money than I can ever spend, so I won’t even miss it. She could go to the school of her choice. Full ride.”
Phil rubbed his eyes and yawned. He was achy and exhausted. “What if she remembers? Your money won’t help then.”
Erik stood and shoved the chair under his desk. “I’m sick of the what-ifs. She’s not going to remember because roofies cause amnesia. So technically, I don’t have to do a damn, fucking thing. I’m just trying to be nice.”
SIXTEEN
Thursday, May 9
1996
Six days after the frat party, Phil called home, asking if he’d left his jacket when he’d been there for dinner on Sunday night. It was a ruse to find out if his mom had more information about Lindsay Moore.
“I haven’t seen it, honey, but let me go check the front closet.” Phil heard her as she walked through the house to the entry area. The door opened and then a moment later, clicked shut.
Penny came back on the line, sounding amused. “As I opened the door, I realized the closet would be the last place you’d leave your jacket.”
“Funny, Mom. Hey, anything new going on?”
“Dad and I are going to go look at RVs this afternoon. Want to come?”
“That’s cool, but I can’t. Too close to finals.” Phil was sitting at his desk, doodling Lindsay’s name on a legal pad. “Any news on that girl?”
“What girl?”
He broke the pencil lead in frustration. “The girl that got attacked.” Whoa. Lighten up, Phil, he told himself. Just keep it cool. In a calmer voice, he continued, “You know, the girl you told us about during dinner on Sunday.”
“Oh, yes. Lindsay Moore. Angela’s spoken to her a couple more times and both her friends, too, but still hasn’t come up with anything concrete, other than it was a big party in an old house with a funny sign.”
“What do you mean, a funny sign?”
“Angela figures it must be a Greek symbol like you have in front of your house. She’s already contacted all the fraternity and sorority presidents. Problem is, being this close to the end of term nearly every Greek house had a party last Friday. So the next step is to talk to every chapter member.”
Phil gripped his cell phone and tried to control his labored breathing.
“You still there, honey? You’re awfully quiet.”
“I’m here. Just listening.” He was so freaked out by the idea of being interrogated that he could barely hear her words now.
“It’s so hard to believe that not one of them knows where they went that night. How could they be so completely oblivious to where they were going?”
“I dunno, Mom,” he said, feeling hopeless.
“Just shows you how young and naive those girls are. I mean, those boys could have taken them anywhere and murdered them, for God’s sake. Anyway, I think the therapist will be able to help Lindsay remember.”
His mind had been wandering, but he caught the word therapist. “She’s seeing a therapist?”
“Well, when you consider what she’s been through, of course she’s seeing a therapist. Angela’s optimistic they’ll have a breakthrough. Her next appointment’s right after school tomorrow.”
“What do you mean by a breakthrough?”
“Hold on.” The screen door to the backyard slammed, which meant she had walked out onto the deck to smoke. He heard the flick of her lighter and a second later, a long exhale. “Okay, much better. I’m down to four a day.” She paused.
He knew she was waiting for praise. “That’s great, Mom. Really proud of you.”
“Thanks. It’s not easy.” Another puff. “So what did you ask before?”
Phil squeezed his eyes shut and tried to maintain. “I asked—”
“Oh, right. If Lindsay’s mother agrees to it, Angela wants to try hypnotherapy.”
Phil’s pulse was thundering, making it hard to keep his voice normal. “Do you think she’ll agree?”
“I know I would. If someone did this to Christy, I’d move heaven and earth to get these monsters and make them pay.”
Phil felt lightheaded and clammy. Maybe I’m hyperventilating. “So, if this hypnotherapy thing works, they could have these guys in jail by the weekend, huh?”
“That may be a little optimistic. My understanding is, she’s not going to remember the actual crime, which I think is a good thing, but the hope is the therapist will be able to guide her through the events leading up to the rape. You know, what the house looked like, the address, a good description of the boys who drugged her… And if it doesn’t work, or Lindsay refuses to do it, then Angela will talk to her friends’ parents about them doing it.”
“But I thought nothing happened to them.”
“True, but they all walked to that house, and once we know where the house is, we can get a warrant and forensics will go over every inch with a fine-toothed comb. Her clothes and body were a veritable cesspool of evidence, so it’s just a matter of matching up some fibers and hairs, and then there’ll be a court order for semen samples. Sorry, I know that’s a little too graphic. The whole thing’s disgusting and I hope they string those boys up.” She inhaled her cigarette and blew out slowly. “Now where do you think you left your jacket?”
“I don’t know, Mom.”
Phil sat at his desk, relating what his mother had said to Erik and Jake. “Even if she just remembers the house, Mom said forensics would go over everything. You know, looking for hairs, fingerprints.”
“Shit.” Erik jumped off his bed and ripped the sheets off. “First thing in the morning I need to wash these.”
“You’re kidding,” Phil’s face puckered with revulsion. “You didn’t wash your sheets after what happened? That’s disgusting.”
Erik tossed the sheets in the corner. “Give me a break, Martha Stewart.” He looked under the bed and pulled out some dirty clothes and tossed those in the pile. A barrette bounced on the floor and landed by Jake’s desk.
He leaned over and picked it up. “What’s this?” He held up the pink, glittery object. “Do you think this is hers?” He pulled a long, blonde hair from it.
Erik snatched it. “Could be anyone’s.” He remembered Lindsay’s hair had been clipped back. “I’ll get rid of it.”
Phil got up from his chair and walked to the sheets and crouched. “While you’re at it, you better get rid of these, too.” He pointed to a pink wad of material on the sheet pile.
Erik leaned over and peered at the object. “Shit.” He stuffed the panties and the barrette into his jeans pocket.
“Could be anybody’s?” asked Phil, standing up. “What else is in this room for the police to find?”
Erik checked under his bed and around the room. “Nothing.” He sat on his bare mattress and shook his head in dejection. “We’re screwed if she goes to that appointment.”
“Don’t think your money idea’s going to get us out of this,” said Phil. “It’s too late.”
“What’re you talking about? What money idea?” Jake asked.
“Erik thought we, or rather he, since he’s the one with the trust fund, could send her money for college. Anonymously. As atonement,” Phil answered, sitting down at his desk again.
But that was before we knew about the hypnotherapy. It was a stupid, dumb-ass idea anyway.”
Jake’s face lit up with a burst of hope. “No. It could work.”
“How? Once she has this hypnotherapy thing, it’s only a matter of time before it comes down to us.”
“No. No. This really could work, Phil.” Jake was excited. “If we can make her see we’re not really bad guys, that it was all just a horrible mistake. We were stinkin’ drunk and didn’t know what we were doing.” He
paused a beat, building hope and momentum. “We’re not that much older than her, so maybe she’ll understand how things got out of control. We’ll beg her for mercy. And then Erik can still pay for college or whatever.”
“First off, we don’t even know where she lives. And if we did, then what? Knock on her door and introduce ourselves?” Phil stood up and pantomimed the scene. “Hi, I’m Phil and these are my friends, Erik and Jake. Erik was the one who drugged you, and then we all raped you. We were really, really drunk, so we shouldn’t be held responsible for our actions. Please forgive us and if you do, my buddy here,” he pointed at Erik, “will pay for your college education.”
“Or a car, or both. Whatever,” said Erik. “Obviously, we can’t go to her house, even if we did know where she lives, but—”
“You two idiots do realize that during her hypnotherapy, the doctor and her mother will be there. Right?” Phil sat back down. “Probably the police detective, too.”
Jake wasn’t ready to let the idea go. “But if Lindsay refuses to press charges.”
Phil shook his head. “She’s under eighteen.”
Jake deflated and slumped over in his chair, hugging his knees. “What’re we going to do?”
Erik pointed at Jake. “Fuckin’ pathetic. He’s the one who’s going to blow this.”
Phil ignored Erik and spoke to Jake. “Here’s what we do. Tomorrow, first thing, we clean this room top to bottom and throw away the clothes we had on that night. Then wait it out and hope for the best.”
Erik shook his head vehemently. “We’ll clean the room, but we can’t just sit back, twiddling our thumbs and hope everything will be fine. She saw your face, Phil, and she saw mine.” He flopped down on his bed and picked up a blanket from the floor to cover himself. “Probably should wash this, too.” He switched off his lamp and turned his back on them. “Let’s try to get some sleep. We’ll figure something out tomorrow.”
Jake glanced at Phil and then averted his eyes. “No way I can sleep. Must be nice to have no conscience.”
“I have a conscience, Jake. I’m just not going to let it ruin my life.” After a minute Erik rolled over and said, “I saw her today. Lindsay.”
“What?” asked Phil. “How could you have seen her?”
“I figured she goes to Santa Lucia High, so I asked Christy if she knows her.”
“You what?” Phil shouted in astonishment. “You talked to my sister?”
The neighboring room pounded on the wall and hollered, “Shut the fuck up.”
Phil stepped over to Erik and leaned into his face. “Are you crazy?”
“I thought it might help if I knew where to find her, in case, you know—”
“No, we don’t know,” said Phil. “Suppose you tell us.”
“In case we decide to talk to her. Like we were just talking about.”
“Does my mom know you talked to Christy?”
“No. I saw her after school in the parking lot.”
“Didn’t she think it was a little weird?” asked Jake. “You showing up out of the blue and asking about Lindsay?”
“Give me some credit, will ya?” Erik sat up. “I told her what your mom said about if we heard anything to let her know. So I said I thought it might help if I knew what she looked like.”
“You don’t even remember what she looks like?” said Phil. “You’re the one who slipped her the roofie.”
“I kind of remember, but what can I say? I was really drunk. I do remember she was a blond. Really long hair. Cute. That’s about it.”
Phil moved to his bed and sat. “What did my sister say?”
“She pointed at her. She was standing by the flagpole.”
“But what exactly did Christy say to you?”
Erik took a deep, shuddering breath and blew it out. “She said most days Lindsay waits for her mom by the flagpole.”
“That’s it?” asked Jake.
Erik continued reluctantly. “She also said she thought it was cool that I wanted to help out.”
SEVENTEEN
Friday, May 10
1996
Friday marked one week since Phil’s life had been forever destroyed by a few moments of blinding, drunk lust. If arrested, he’d be listed as a sex-offender for the rest of his life, which would be ironic considering his limited sexual experience.
The first time was with his high school girlfriend, Chloe. He’d been hopelessly in love with her and had thought they would marry someday. They dated for nearly two years, never going past heavy foreplay, and then a few days before senior prom, Chloe’s father had told her he’d accepted a job in Chicago, and they would be moving as soon as the school year was over. The kids were devastated, and on the night of the prom, their tears led to passionate intercourse in the backseat of Phil’s car. When she left, they swore they’d be together again, but youth, distance, and time dimmed their ardor. The last he’d heard from Chloe, she was planning to backpack through Europe with a group of friends.
The second time was with a girl he’d dated briefly the previous fall. After a few dates, Danielle was already talking marriage, and one evening, as he tried to explain that he needed to finish college and get established in his career before he could consider marriage, she had ripped off her top and shoved her hand down his pants, and he’d lost it. A few days later, a friend warned him that Danielle was already almost four months pregnant, and her parents would disown her if they found out she was an unwed mother. After that, Phil decided to put dating on hold until he graduated.
Phil showered, scouring his body roughly with a back brush, wishing he could cleanse his conscience as easily. He toweled off, wrapped the towel around his waist, and wiped the steam from the mirror to shave but found he couldn’t look at himself.
He padded down the hall to his room and found his roommates sitting on the floor, sharing a joint. “I thought we were cleaning the room.”
“We’re working on it,” said Erik. “The sheets are in the washer.”
Jake inhaled deeply, savoring the calming effect, and slowly released a stream of smoke. He held out the joint to Phil, who shook his head. “I think we’ve come up with a plan that might work.” He passed the cigarette to Erik. “It’s what we were talking about last night actually. We talk to her before her appointment and beg her to forgive us.”
“And pay her off?”
“Whatever it takes to ensure we all have a future, including Lindsay,” answered Jake.
“So how are we going to talk to her?”
Erik took a drag, squinting his eyes as he exhaled, then passed the joint back to Jake and rubbed his hands together. “It’s really very simple. Your sister said that most days, Lindsay gets a ride from her mother, right? I would assume that since she has the therapist appointment this afternoon, she’ll be waiting in her usual spot at the flagpole. The plan is to get there before her mom and plead our case.”
“That’s it? Just walk up to her and ask for forgiveness?”
“More like throw ourselves at her feet and beg for mercy,” Erik glanced at Jake, who averted his eyes, “but yeah, pretty much.”
“So, why did you look at Jake just now?”
“No reason,” he said, glancing away.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Erik paused for a second, as if giving Phil’s question deep thought. “Nope. Nothing I can think of.”
Phil shook his head slowly in disgust. “It’s an idiotic plan and I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t deserve her mercy.”
“What are you? A priest or something?” said Erik. “Okay, you don’t have to talk to her. Just wait in the car while we talk to her. Will that work for you, Father Phil?”
Phil ignored Erik’s sarcasm as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. “If your plan backfires, and it will, I’m turning myself in before they find us and arrest us.”
“Have a little faith, will ya?” Erik chuckled at his humor. “This’ll work.”
&nb
sp; Phil opened the door. “I need some air. I’m going for a walk.”
“School’s out at three, so be back by two,” said Erik.
“Whatever,” Phil shouted from down the hall.
“Okay, that actually went well,” said Erik. “I was counting on him not wanting to talk to Lindsay.”
“So, we’re not going to tell him everything?” Jake stubbed the joint out in an Altoids tin.
“Are you kidding? He’ll blow it and get us all turned in. We’re doing this my way, I mean, our way, and if she freaks, we’ll have to get out of town fast. I’ll go to the ATM and get a wad of cash just in case.”
“But if things go well, what if he still decides to turn himself in? I know this is eating him up. Really goes against the whole Eagle Scout thing.”
Erik’s dark scowl frightened Jake and his next words chilled him to the bone. “That would be a bad choice, wouldn’t it? For all of us.” Then he laughed and slapped his knees. “Lighten up, dude! Quit worrying about all the what-ifs. Life’s too short.”
Erik and Jake weren’t around when Phil returned to the house, so he waited on the shabby, plaid sofa on the front porch. At 2:06, they strolled up the flagstone path and flopped next to him.
Erik slumped low, crossing his ankles on the porch railing. “You ready?”
Phil eyed the brown plastic bag Jake cradled on his lap. “What’s in the bag?”
“Nothing—”
Erik cut in, “Got your keys?”
Phil patted his front pocket. “Why?”
“You have the biggest car, so you should drive.” Erik stood and stretched. “Might as well get going then.”
“What’s the big rush? School’s not out ‘til three.”
“No rush.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged nonchalantly. “I’d rather get over there and be ready to talk to her the minute she walks out, that’s all.” He looked sheepish. “Maybe I’m a little nervous, too. A lot’s riding on this.”
Phil’s bronze Ford Explorer was parked a short distance down the block. When they were buckled in, Erik asked, “How’s your gas?”
“Why? It’s not that far to the school.”
Pamela Frost Dennis - Murder Blog 01 - Dead Girls Don't Blog Page 10
