Echo Bridge

by Kristen O'Toole

  I had neither control nor freedom. Ted reminded me of this when he opened the door to the Rover as I crossed the senior parking lot with Melissa. He was sitting in the back and lifted the hatch when we walked by. When I paused and frowned, he held up his cell phone and pretended to text. I walked over and climbed in next to him.

  “Hey, Court.” He closed the door, dropped back onto his elbows, and grinned at me. “How about a quickie before first period?”

  “You’re disgusting,” I said in a low voice. I was much too close to him. The Rover had always struck me as comically large, but just then it seemed cramped and tiny. I pressed my back against the window.

  “Come on, Courtney,” he reached over and pulled me down next to him. I stiffened, but like Hugh before him, Ted was much bigger than me. He ran a hand over my breast, down my waist to my hip. I thought I might actually projectile vomit into his face. “Come on,” he said again, squeezing my hip, yanking me closer to him, his hand fumbling at his belt.

  “Ted,” I squirmed, tears in my eyes. “People can see us.”

  “What people? It’s after first bell. Everybody’s up in the school house.”

  “Ted, please,” I said, and cursed myself for begging. “I’ll tell the cops whatever you want, I’ll do anything, just not this. Anything but this.”

  “Anything, huh?” he kept one hand on my rib cage and propped himself up on his elbow.

  Before he could begin to explore the possibilities, there was a loud rap at the window. Detective Soleto was banging on it with the butt of her Mag light.

  * * *

  She and I stared at each other across the table in the interrogation room at the police station.

  “Ms. Valance.”

  “Detective Soleto.”

  “Do you know why you’re here?”

  “Because you don’t believe Hugh Marsden’s death was an accident.” I was trying to think through my options as quickly as possible. They hadn’t taken our phones; Ted could be sending out his videos of me from the next room at that moment. And what if they let him listen in, hoping to turn us against each other like in L.A. Confidential (Kim Basinger, Best Supporting Actress, 1998)? I knew that seemed ridiculous, but if I’d learned one thing that fall, it was that anything was possible.

  “Correct. Are you ready to tell me what really happened last Friday?”

  More staring. I broke her gaze and picked at the edge of the table where a plastic strip was peeling off. “All right.”

  I took a deep breath. Be convincing, I thought. Be authentic. I remembered Constantin Stanislavski and emotional memory. I remembered that night in September in Melissa’s guest bathroom. I let the tears well up in my eyes.

  “I did it,” I said, my voice breaking, as I wiped at my cheeks with my hands. “It’s all my fault.”

  “Courtney?” Soleto put aside her ballpoint pen and steno notebook. “What do you mean?”

  “I saw Hugh go into the barn,” I gulped. “And the barn is supposed to be locked during parties, and he was so drunk, so I went out to try to get him to come back to the house. And he, he…” Don’t overdo it, I thought. Ted had said ‘attempted.’ I struggled to rein in the tears a little. “He grabbed me. He was so drunk, I don’t think he knew what he was doing, but he scared me. So I pushed him. And he stumbled backward, onto the trap door, and fell. His head… his neck was at a grotesque angle.” I shuddered.

  “And when did Ted show up?” The detective narrowed her eyes at me.

  “Just a minute later. He could see that the barn light was on from the house and came out to make sure it was empty and lock it.”

  “And why did you lie before?”

  “Because I was scared,” I sniffled. “Ted, he agreed to lie for me.”

  Detective Soleto picked her notebook up again. “How do I know you’re not lying now?” she asked me.

  I stared at her, and the terror I let show on my face was very real. “What? I—I’m not, I swear.”

  She tapped the pen on the notebook cover at a maddeningly slow pace. “A lot of your friends seem to think that something was going on between you and Hugh.”

  “There wasn’t. I swear there wasn’t. I told him no.” I released the waterworks.

  “You want to know what I think, Ms. Valance?” The ballpoint picked up its pace. “I think that you and Hugh had something on the side. Ted must have suspected something, if I’m hearing about it now. When he saw you two together in the barn, he snapped. And you’re trying desperately to hang on to him by covering for him.”

  “Are you calling me a slut?” My fingers tightened at the edge of the table.

  “No. I’m calling you a liar and a cheat.” The detective stood and waved me out of the room. “Don’t bother waiting for Ted. He’s going to be a while.”

  * * *

  I didn’t hear from Ted for the rest of the afternoon. I had no idea what he’d told the cops or if they’d managed to arrest him. I sat in the janitor’s closet we used as a dressing room during performances, wondering what had happened and how I had gotten there. For a second, the prospect of Ted getting arrested seemed like it would be the answer to everything, but then I realized that it would only mean a few hours of relief for me. Ted’s father’s lawyer would get him out quick. I had no idea if he’d then release his video collection, or what tale he might spin for a jury, if it came to that. No, an arrest would only make Ted angrier and open up more potential for him to manipulate me. I stared at my white face in the mirror.

  In order to make the long, narrow closet more like a dressing room, Mr. G had propped a full-length mirror horizontally atop a counter at waist level. We all had to stoop and hunch to get our makeup on. Mechanically, I put on heavy eyeliner and a lot of powder. Abigail Williams wasn’t meant to look too made up, but everybody needed something extra under the harsh stage lights. I fell into a fugue state as we prepared, and I still have no memory of the performance at all. I only know that it was good, and that when my conscious mind checked out, I played Abigail naturally and knew her lines by heart. The only thing I remember thinking was that this was it, the last thing I’d ever do in Belknap; I had to leave immediately, because Ted would be gunning for me, one way or another.

  Afterwards, I stood out in the lobby of the schoolhouse while my mother hugged me and people swarmed, underclassmen and random parents wanting to compliment me, wanting to tell me how their child looked up to me, how talented I was. I must have smiled and thanked them, but I knew I was a fraud. Whatever had just happened on stage was an accident, not a talent. And it didn’t matter; even if I got the chance to submit the video as part of my Tisch application, I wouldn’t be around to accept admission. I didn’t think I could stand another handshake, and I gulped frantically at the bottle of Poland Spring in my hand.

  “Courtney,” said my dad as the lobby slowly emptied. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” I hissed, wiping my lips with the back of my hand.

  “She’s just upset that Ted’s not here,” my mother said, loud enough for anyone in the lobby to hear.

  “No, Mom,” I said. “That’s not it at all.”

  “Well,” she said. “He should be here. Frankly, I’m surprised.”

  “Mom.”

  “Did you and Ted have a falling out, honey?”

  “Janice,” my father said, gently taking my mother by the shoulders. “Let the girl enjoy the spotlight.”

  We turned to go, and then I saw Ted. My father must have seen him, too, and thought he was doing me a favor, but I felt my knees go watery at the sight of him. He was holding a huge bouquet, two dozen roses at least, white with red-tipped petals. I felt dizzy.

  “Oh,” said my mother, loading the single syllable with weight. “We’ll just see you at home, Courtney.”

  And then my father kissed my temple, and my mother kissed my cheek, and that was the last time I saw either of them.

  * * *

  Ted watched them leave, and then took a step closer to me. I stare
d at him with naked terror.

  “Did they arrest you?” I whispered.

  “No,” he said softly, hitching up the roses and stroking the hair over my ear, so that no one watching would guess what he was saying. “They don’t have any evidence, just that detective bitch’s suspicion. I sent a text to my dad, and he showed up with his lawyer and threatened to sue the cops for keeping me without a charge. You didn’t do what I asked, did you? You told them it was me who pushed Hugh.” He grabbed me with one arm like he was giving me a hug, but really, he was making sure that I felt the cell phone in his pocket. The cell phone full of videos of me in compromising positions.

  “I didn’t, I swear,” I gasped. “I did what you asked. I told her I did it, I told the story you wanted. But she didn’t believe me.”

  The Students Against Drunk Driving kids who sold refreshments during intermission were still at the other end of the lobby, cleaning up their card table and banner. Keeping his arm around me, Ted guided me outside, to the edge of the yellow circle of light thrown by the floods on the front of the building.

  “You know that if I go on trial, I won’t even have to release the videos, right? Charlie—the lawyer—will use you to create reasonable doubt. He’s already putting together evidence that you’re a borderline personality. Impulsive. Promiscuous. Prone to lying for attention.”

  I don’t care anymore, I thought. But it wasn’t true. And whatever happened, I knew that there was still no proof that Ted was anything other than a gross teenage boy. If he was convicted of something, I’d be a victim. And if he wasn’t, I’d be a manipulative whore. There was no way for me to win. Unless I took Ted down with me.

  “You can fix this,” Ted said, and I almost laughed in his face, at the idea that anything that had happened over the past several months could be “fixed.” “A few weeks in court and it will be over, no videos, no public smear on your reputation. You’re still seventeen; it was self-defense. The records will probably be sealed. Come with me and talk to Charlie. He’ll walk you through it and tell you exactly what to say.”

  “Okay,” I said. I had no intention of doing any such thing, but I wanted to keep Ted relaxed, thinking I was cooperating, until I could choose my moment. “Let me just get my stuff.”

  Ted walked with me back to the janitor’s closet. I was still wearing my heavy, stiff Abigail Williams dress, but I didn’t want to stop and change, so I just scooped up the bag with my clothes and followed him out the door.

  “Where’s this lawyer’s office?” I asked as we got into the Rover. I kept my voice tired and flat; I didn’t want him to know what I was thinking. This particular detail didn’t seem hard to pull off—everything I’d learned about Ted in the last week had shown me that he didn’t really believe I could think, or that what I thought mattered at all.

  “Downtown, but he’s at my house right now,” said Ted, and he started the car.

  I drew a map in my head of the route from campus to Ted’s house. I picked the right place to make a move. I pulled out my cell phone.

  “What are you doing?” demanded Ted.

  “Texting Melissa and Selena that the play went well and I’ll see them later.” I held up the phone so he could see the incoming texts there. “You don’t want them to worry about me, do you?”

  “Go ahead,” Ted said. I texted Lexi instead: echo bridge park. 10 min. stay in car. Ted snatched the phone as soon as I was done and put it in his pocket. I gave a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn’t looked at the screen.

  I did it at the stoplight on Bridge Street. There were no other cars around, and just as the light turned green and Ted hit the gas, I pulled the door handle and tumbled out of the car. Several feet away, Ted hit the breaks, and the passenger door flapped wildly. I heard him yell, “Dammit, Courtney!” and then I was running as fast as I could, gathering the long skirt of my Puritan costume around my waist. I ran into the woods, away from the road, toward the river, although the park was on the far side and I wasn’t sure how close I was to the bridge. Ted had left the car running, windows open, at the traffic light, and I could hear him crashing through the woods behind me. He was an athlete and I was an actress—he could outrun me easily. I didn’t have much time. I stopped worrying about the bridge and headed straight for the river.

  In my panic, I had forgotten how high the river was, how it had suddenly developed a current overnight. Under normal circumstances, I could have waded across the Souhegan, but now I could see I would have to swim, and hope that I didn’t get dragged too far downstream. It was December 1st, and I was dressed as a 17th-Century village girl, but I was going to swim across the river. In old Salem, one of the trials of proving a woman a witch was dunking: if you didn’t drown, you burned at the stake. But Ted was getting closer behind me, and I couldn’t stand there and contemplate such poetic coincidences. I jumped.

  The water was cold, much colder than I had imagined, and even with my head above water, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I struggled to stay afloat and keep from getting tangled in my dress as it billowed around my limbs. Ted was screaming my name behind me. I kicked my legs frantically and fought the dress, finally managing to swim out of it after ripping some of the seams. Underneath I was wearing a camisole and leggings, and swimming was much easier to do without the dress. My hand struck a rock beneath the water, and I realized that I had reached the far bank. Ted had fallen silent behind me, and I guessed that he had run back to the car, and was now driving the long way around to try to catch me on this side of the river.

  I pulled myself up onto the rocks, out of the water. My lungs felt like they were on fire and my heart was pounding, but I couldn’t stop to catch my breath. I got to my feet and began to run again, upstream, toward where I thought the bridge and the park were. But my sense of direction was off, and I hit the road before I arrived at the park, exposed and obvious in my sopping, skimpy clothes. Before I could duck back into the woods, the Rover careened into sight and stopped in the middle of the road. Ted was too quick for me now; he hadn’t taken a dip in a freezing river or been running half as hard as I had been.

  “I should kill you!” he screamed, and it was then that I finally saw the thing behind the mask that was Ted Parker: face red, spit flying, tendons standing out in his neck, hands squeezing and squeezing my arms. The psychopath. He took a few deep breaths. “I should throw you in the river and tell everyone it was a suicide. They already think you were screwing Hugh; it won’t be a big leap to convince them you were distraught with grief and guilt.”

  Hadn’t I chosen that role myself, not two days earlier? I guess I’m feeling pretty bleak these days. I struggled against him, but Ted was much stronger than I was, and his arms were around me like a vice.

  “Say another word,” came a voice in the darkness, “and I will shoot you in the head. Let go of her. Now.” Lexi emerged from the woods. She had her grandfather’s gun trained on Ted. And she was willing to use it, I could tell. She was dying to use it.

  “Of course,” Ted sighed. He let go of me and took a step back, shaking his head. “Of course it’s you.” He snarled at her. “If it wasn’t for you, none of this would ever have happened.”

  “Yeah,” Lexi said flatly. “This is all my fault.” She kept the gun on him and reached for me, pulling my shaking body against her coat. “Now get in your car and drive away.”

  “Do you really think this is over?” Ted laughed.

  “It is for you,” she said. “When Courtney doesn’t come home tonight, her parents are going to call the police. And they’re going to call you. And eventually they’re going to find Courtney’s clothes in the river and no sign of her. What do you think is going to happen to you then? I bet ten people just saw you two leave campus together. Everyone already thinks she was sleeping with Hugh. They’ll think you had nothing to lose after killing him.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ted stared at us, at the gun in Lexi’s hand and me shivering beside her. I felt like my skin was freezing
over.

  Without wavering her eyes or the gun pointed at Ted’s face, Lexi slipped the thick scarf from around her neck and handed it to me. “Retribution.”

  Two headlights slid around a bend in the road about a quarter of a mile away. I flinched, and Ted looked in their direction, his face showing fear for the first time. Lexi didn’t move, didn’t blink. Ted looked back at us, started to speak, and stopped. His shoulders sank, like he was resigning himself to something, and he swung himself into the open driver’s side door, and the Rover peeled out.

  “Lexi!” I jumped onto the shoulder of the road, trying to pull her into the woods with me. I had no idea what we’d say if the car pulled over and someone saw us: me soaked through and barely dressed, Lexi clutching that gun and wound so tight she was practically giving off sparks.

  She squinted at the car as it slowed, and I saw that it was her Caddie. The passenger door opened and Farah was inside, leaning across the seat, her eyes huge in the dark.

  “Are you guys okay?” she asked.

  Lexi pushed me into the passenger seat. “Crank up the heater,” she said. She walked around to the driver’s side, and Farah scrambled between the seats into the back. Lexi slid behind the wheel. “We need to make Miranda Wickendam’s travel arrangements a little sooner than expected.”

  Epilogue

  Anna closed The Crucible and then closed her eyes. It was nearly dawn; she’d been staring at her sister’s note all night.