“Bottom line, that’s fucked up,” Sadie said.
“Yes, it is,” Jules agreed.
He’d sent out a proverbial bat-signal at the very end of lunch period—a message to gather at the summer house after school, and they all showed up.
Belle, Tom, Shelly, Sadie, Hobbit.
And Rodney and his little sister, Meg.
The plan to catch Suspect X had come to Jules in almost its entirety after his conversation with Mr. H. It could work, absolutely—he knew it could—but only with Rodney’s help.
Earlier that morning, Sadie had used Jules’s car to drive Rod and Meg into Hartford, to a women’s health clinic where Sadie had marched in and gotten the girl examined. Too many days had passed since the assault for a rape kit to be effective, but the doctor there had offered to use one anyway. Sadie had reported that the doctor was kind, she was warm, and best of all, she’d believed everything that Meg and Sadie told her, but had been respectful about Meg’s decision not to notify the police.
The doctor did a blood draw, complete with a thankfully negative pregnancy test, as well as checking for various STDs—they’d have to wait forthoseresults. But the good news was that Meg’s internal exam didn’t show signs of ongoing contusion or other physical trauma. The doctor suspected her continuous bleeding was a result of upside-down hormone levels from intense stress.
They’d returned to school around lunchtime, with Hobbit-forged notes from their “parents”—one for both Rod and Meg, and one for Sadie, with distinctly different handwriting and different phrasing and word choices, too.
The kid really was quite the artist.
Hob had also cut eighth period—no doubt with aPlease let Kevin leave early to go to the dentistnote of his own—toclimb in Jules’s bedroom window to add Meg’s rape, in neon orange marker, to the nearly-full evidence board.
Jules had picked up both Hob and the board on his way home from school, driving them out here to the deserted farm stand.
Where they all now stared at the board.
“With this information about this drug, our suspect list can be narrowed down to people who’ve recently traveled to Europe or Mexico,” Jules said.
“Charlie,” Belle said. “And Trent. And maybe that other kid from Ottersfield, too? Bob? I was on my third beer, so I kinda don’t remember who all went to Mexico, but one of them definitely did and at least one other kid went with him.”
“I remember you mentioning Mexico,” Jules told her. “I think it was Charlie and Trent, although we should look hard at Bob, too.”
“Those motherfuckers,” Rodney said. “I’m going to fucking kill them.” He looked ready to walk out of there to go and do just that.
Jules moved slightly so that he was blocking Rod’s path to the tent flap they used as a door. “How about the kids onoursoccer team? Anyone talk about international travel? Trips to Acapulco or Cozumel? Or maybe even Paris?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Rodney said. “No one has that kind of money.”
“But Trent and-or Charlie and-or Bob from Ottersfield do,” Jules pointed out. “And we know that someone is close enough friends with them to invite them to these parties. Maybe close enough to catch a ride on Trent’s Daddy’s private jet for a long weekend south of the border...? Can you, maybe, ask the team about that?”
“How the fuck do I do that without making it stupidly obvious?”
“You go to your next soccer rehearsal,” Hobbit said, “and while you’re on the field, warming up, or whatever you do out there, you say to whoever’s warming up near you,Hey, I’ve got some money saved and I was thinking about signing up for an international soccer camp in Acapulco next summer but my mother watches too much Fox News and thinks Mexico’s a literal shithole where I’ll be murdered and tossed into a ditch. Any of you guys ever go there?”
“It’s apractice,” Rod said, “not?—”
“Rehearsal,” Hobbit finished with him. “I know.” He gave the older boy a tight smile. “I said that on purpose, to annoy you.”
“It’s not that hard to do,” Sadie told Rodney. “You used to be able to act—he was the Cowardly Lion in the fourth grade play.”
“You were the Cowardly Lion?” Hobbit was delighted. “Did you sing? Did he sing?If I were the king of the forest...!”
“Oh, he sang.” Sadie was grinning at Rod’s obvious discomfort.
“Oh, my God,” Hobbit said. “And wereyouDorothy, skipping around in a little gingham dress...?Somewhere over the...”
“She should’ve been Dorothy,” Rodney said grimly. “She was so much better than What’s-Her-Face.”
“Paulette D’Amatowas really pretty and, I was... Well, I was the Tin Man so at least I got to hang out with Rod and be funny. But whatever. It was a million years ago.” Sadie turned to her former musical theatre co-star. “If you want, I’ll help you rehearse when we’re done here. Figure out exactly what you’ll say—make sure your lines feel natural.”
