Blind Spot (Blind Justice Book 1)

by Adam Zorzi

  “What if someone's impersonating Bella?” asked Rob and held up his hand for Dan to let him talk. “No one needs your permission to follow that angle. We know you didn't kill Jill. Someone, possibly this impersonator, did or knows who did. They ruled out a lover for Jill, right?”

  “Yes,” whispered Dan.

  “Then why not consider an imposter?”

  “They're satisfied Bella is dead and don't give the imposter theory any credibility.”

  Rob opened his mouth to speak and Dan cut him off. “Think about it. Who would impersonate Bella to kill Jill? Who even knows Bella except the four of us?”

  “Lots of people knew after Jill told them about your affair.” Rob was the one digging in his heels.

  “I don't know if Jill told anyone her name. Even if she did, one Google search and people would know Bella is dead. I really doubt Jill would've mentioned her name. It wouldn't mean anything to any of her friends. Jill was hurt, but she tried to limit her humiliation. She probably said the woman wasn't important or she wasn't anyone they knew or she lived out of town.”

  “What about someone in Bella's life? An old lover?”

  “Rob, that's a real stretch. Anyone who was close to Bella knows she's been dead since 2001. Who would impersonate a dead person? Much less kill Jill?”

  They sat in a silent circle for a long time.

  “I've got nothing,” Rob said and threw up his hands, but their mother spoke.

  “Rob, what about Brian? Does he have any advice?”

  Rob shook his head vehemently. “Brian is my buddy and college roommate in the real world. In the courtroom, he's Judge Meacham. He won't discuss it with me. Like Lombardi, he's not going to risk removal from the bench for Dan.”

  “Mom,” said Dan. “Elba and Winston have sized up their case and settled on me. A judge ordered a warrant for my arrest. I have to go with those facts.”

  Suzanne came over and hugged him close. “We love you, Dan. We'll take care of Kaitlyn and Holly and Ivan.”

  CHAPTER

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  Dan picked up the green recycled shopping bag lying on the console of Rob's Saab sedan. He looked inside, saw packs of money in rubber bands, and threw the bag on the floor.

  “What's that?” he turned to Rob who kept his eyes straight ahead while he drove along East Parham Road toward Route 1. Rob had returned after dinner ostensibly to say goodbye to his brother before Dan surrendered to the police the next morning.

  “Fifty thousand dollars in used bills of different denominations. Only $1,000 in hundreds.”

  The money felt like a poisonous snake about to strike. “Get it away from me.” He kicked it further from his feet.

  “It's not stolen, Dan.”

  “What is it? Why do you have it?” Dan felt the familiar pangs of anxiety.

  “It's yours. Take it and run.”

  “That sounds like a bad movie line. What do you mean?” Dan was frantic. He wondered if he could jump out of the car at a light.

  “Calm down,” said Rob. “What's wrong with you?”

  “Are you trying to frame me or what?” What if he couldn't trust Rob?

  Rob's eyes never left the road. “Dan, I'm trying to help you. Think about it. You're going to spend the rest of your life on death row or in Petersburg. Those are your choices. There's a third. Get out of the country or at least out of Virginia until you find somewhere to go.”

  “I can't run away. I'd be a fugitive.” Dan felt like his throat was closing.

  “Right now, you're a murderer or a psycho or both.”

  “I can't abandon Katie.”

  Rob pulled into a nearly empty fast food restaurant. One that used to be part of a chain but was now a non-descript eatery. He parked in the back near the dumpster and turned in his seat to face Dan.

  “You're not going to see Kaitlyn any time soon, Dan. You're going to be in one of the worst psych hospitals in the country or prison. How often do you think Elizabeth and George will bring her to see you?”

  No, he'd see Katie. “Katie has a good lawyer.”

  “Maybe, but look at a judge's choices. The brother of her mother's killer or her mother's parents or sisters? Or maybe she could go to foster care while the court sorts it out.” Rob's voice was harsh. Never. Katie would never be put in foster care.

  “Rob, you're over-reacting. Is this a joke?”

  Rob looked like he wanted to slap Dan. “You're not getting it. The best—the best Lombardi is offering you is hope. Hope that you'll be found unrestorably incompetent five years, ten years, twenty years from now and maybe released to a private psych hospital or group home. You're not going to walk out totally free. You think you're going to do a year in Petersburg and then be allowed to come home?”

  Yes. That's exactly what he thought.

  “I can't run. It makes me look guilty.”

  “It makes you look like a middle class guy who's never had a parking ticket who's scared to death of prison or the death penalty or the horrors at Petersburg.”

  “You believe I'm guilty, don't you?” Dan questioned Rob for the first time.

  “No, I don't. I don't think Winston and Elba have a clue. I think it must've been a camper who was an opportunist. I don't know why he had morphine and a syringe unless he was a junkie. I don't know why he chose Jill or why he carried her to a place where she obviously would be found. But I have zero confidence in the system. Zero.

  “If you want to stay alive and maybe see Kaitlyn twenty years from now, then run. I can drive you to the outer banks right now. You can lose yourself in tourists. Get fat, keep your hair white, and add a buzz cut. Get a tan and a tattoo. Lose all your ID. Quit running for exercise. Change every habit.”

  He couldn't think. His brain was stuffed with cotton again.

  “Then what?”

  “I don't know. Hop a freighter to China. Become a hermit. Become a monk. What do I know? I'm a suburban dentist with no imagination. You'll have to have some. Figure it out.”

  “What about you? The cops will question you.”

  “I saw you to say good-bye. You didn't say anything about running away. I don't know anything else. Suzanne knows nothing. Mom knows nothing. The money's not marked. Stay away from my kids. Don't go to Chicago or Houston.”

  Rob pulled out of the parking lot and continued south on Route 1. “Never call, email, or contact us. Ever.”

  No. He wouldn't run. “Turn around, Rob,” he pleaded. “Please.”

  “Sure?” Rob waited for his answer before turning the wheel.

  Dan nodded. “Mørk follows me. I need meds. Wherever I go, I'll need meds. If I don't have them, I'll just lie around, forget to be on guard, and make mistakes. Or I'll use street drugs. I'll get caught. It'll be worse for Katie. I can't, Rob. I can't.”

  “Your call,” said Rob. He turned right at the next intersection and drove Dan home.

  CHAPTER

  SIXTY-NINE

  The locked steel door to the Quiet Room closed behind him. Dan timidly surveyed his surroundings. The white windowless room had padded walls, a white carpet-covered floor, and no bedding. No doubt everything was arranged so he didn't kill himself.

  This was the first time he'd been alert, albeit sedated, upon admission to a psych hospital. When the enormous decaying brick building had come into view, Dan had started crying. Except for this room, the place was filthy, reeked of urine, disinfectant and something he didn't want to identify, and echoed horrifying sounds. Screams, howls, and sobs were unrelenting. People sounded like they were being tortured. He saw guards but no one who looked like a doctor, nurse, or even an orderly. No one in admissions seemed interested in his medication schedule. His hands shook. He couldn't function without his meds.

  This hospitalization was involuntary. He couldn't leave without a judge's order. He could only communicate with Lombardi. He'd forgotten to ask if Dr. Spellman could see him. He stood frozen unable to think or feel or move. Numb was good. Frozen and numb.

/>   A key turned and the door opened. Her seductive scent preceded her.

  Bella. She wore a red silk wrap dress that looked fabulous on her figure. Her long blonde hair curled seductively around her shoulders. She wore his great-grandmother's ruby earrings. Her heels must have been five inches high. He brilliant blue eyes honed in on him.

  “Bella.” He felt a rush of relief. “Bella, they said you were dead.”

  “Let's just say not living as a human.” She smiled the way only she could. It went straight to his heart.

  “A ghost?”

  “Some people would call me that.”

  “Am I dead?”

  She glided seductively towards him. “Not yet.”

  “Why can I see you?”

  She laughed with her full-throated voice. “You shouldn't have to ask that. You know what we have transcends everything.” She whispered, “Everything.”

  He wanted to grab her and hold her forever. Never let go again. “I knew you'd come. You'll help me.”

  With a languid motion, she stretched out her hand to touch his hair. He leaned his head into her hand. She laughed. A deep-throated, velvet purr.

  “Help you? We were meant to have a high life together.”

  “That's what I mean. Together we can do anything. We'll make them understand.”

  She curled herself catlike around him without touching. “Daniel, you're in a psychiatric hospital. I don't think there's much chance of us being together.”

  “But you can explain. Tell them I'm not crazy.”

  “Oh, Daniel. How do you think you got here?”

  She traced her index finger under his chin and along his neck. A scarlet fingernail.

  “My lawyer said it was best.”

  She stretched behind him and spoke into his right ear.

  “I told you not to mess with me, but you didn't listen. You stopped calling. You abandoned me.”

  “I was a wreck after my father died.”

  She circled until she stood in front of him, her hand sliding down her throat toward her décolletage.

  “Pity. You made me suffer, Daniel. You promised you wouldn't. I couldn't let you get away with that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She flicked her tongue. “I returned Maggie, known to you as Abbie, to her rightful family. I fiddled with your credit card accounts, helped myself to some jewels, and had a chat with that condescending attorney of yours about estate planning. I stole morphine from a hospital.”

  She took a step closer. “I killed Jill.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear, “And I was very, very, very careful to make it look like you did it.”

  He looked at her in horror.

  “Gotcha.”

  She raked his right cheek with the nails of her left hand and sauntered away. Blood oozed down his face.

  He screamed and screamed and screamed. When he eventually heard the door open, Dan was alone in the room and curled into the fetal position with blood covering his face and hands. He screamed one word over and over.

  “Bella.”

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  About the Author

  Born in Venice, Italy, Adam Zorzi is the author of Blind Spot, Blind Trust, and Blind Rage that comprise the Blind Justice Trilogy. He lives in New York.

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