Unraveling Isobel (27 page)

Deputy Little League might listen, but I knew that was a long way from believing. The problem was, I was lacking a plan B. I didn't know what else we should do. Nate was right that I didn't have the slightest clue how to get any evidence to back up what we were saying.

“Can you wait a day?”

“What's a day going to do?”

“I don't know. I need some time to think, and maybe there's a way to get more proof.” I shrugged. “Once we start talking, there's no way to take it back. We're not going to get a do-over. I know you trust Deputy Burrows, but I don't know him. We've waited this long. Would a day or two more really matter?”

Nate sighed. “No, a day isn't going to change anything. We're running out of time, though. They've arranged an appointment for you in Seattle for Friday. Promise me you won't do anything stupid.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I'd been planning to
come up with the most moronic plan I could think of, but I guess now I won't.”

“I mean it, Isobel. If you go head-to-head with my dad, you won't win.”

“I know.” What I didn't say was that I wasn't planning to go head-to-head. I was going to hopefully sneak up on him somehow. I just needed to figure out how. And I needed to figure it out quickly.

Chapter 37

I
slumped down in my seat. Ms. Raymond never started class on time. She was always fumbling with her papers or trying to find her glasses. I'd pictured scientist types as being more organized than Ms. Raymond. I was willing to bet you never see NASA scientists with toilet paper on their shoes. I was doodling on my notebook, trying to figure out some kind of plan to deal with Dick that didn't involve:

 

1. Telling the police, who weren't going to believe us

2. Confronting Dick directly, since he was never going to confess

3. Completing a college degree in criminal justice in order to be able to prove what happened.

It was hard enough to think of a plan without having to deal with Nicole. Her lab table was across the room, but there was no mistaking who she was talking about. She was surrounded by a bunch of people, including Brit and Sam. There would be whispering, and then everyone would turn to look at me. I wondered if this was how animals in the zoo felt. I was a one-woman freak of nature exhibit. I put my hand in my pocket so I could feel my dad's letter. I tried to act as though I didn't notice everyone clucking about me and instead was focused on reviewing my notes. We had to give presentations in class today. I was supposed to talk for five minutes about diabetes, but everything I'd prepared was pushed out of my mind by the odd word here and there I heard coming from their table:
crazy, psych ward, disgusting, her own brother.

Finally Ms. Raymond told everyone to take his or her seat. Sam walked toward my lab table on the way to hers. She paused, shifting from foot to foot.

“I tried to warn you to watch out for Nicole,” she said quietly. “She ruins people who cross her.” Sam slipped past me and sat down.

I sat staring at the scarred lab table. Generations of kids had carved their names into the top. My finger traced one of the names. I kept thinking about what Sam had said about Nicole having the power to destroy people. Did she, or did we give her the power? For years I'd acted as though my mom had the power to keep me from my dad, but the truth is I hadn't wanted the hassle, so I let
her. I had the power to destroy my life and the power to take it back. I felt my stomach tense as I raised my hand.

“I want to do my presentation first,” I said as I stood. I didn't bother bringing my notes up with me. I wasn't going to need them.

Ms. Raymond looked surprised. Our class wasn't exactly full of volunteers for most things, and so far this year I hadn't set myself apart as a star student. I could hear a low murmur of whispers as I walked to the front of the room.

“My topic was diabetes, but I've changed it.” I stopped to take a deep breath and looked around the room, being sure to meet Nicole's eyes. “I'm going to talk about schizophrenia.” Someone in the back of the room actually gasped as if I had announced I was going to talk about penile implants.

“I don't know the numbers for schizophrenia, but mental health problems are common. Something like one in three people will have some sort of mental health problem in their life. This is a subject I know a lot about because my dad has schizophrenia.”

I looked around the room, but everyone refused to meet my eyes.

“Common symptoms of the disease are hallucinations, delusions, disorganized speech, and behavior that is described as bizarre. Unlike what most people think, schizophrenia isn't the same as multiple personality disorder. Other misconceptions are that people with this disease are violent or more likely to commit crimes. This isn't true.

“Schizophrenia can typically be controlled with medications and psychological support. My dad has had the condition since I was a kid. He may have schizophrenia, but that isn't what controls his life. He's an artist, and one of the best ones I've ever seen. I'm proud he's my dad, and I'm proud of all of him, disease included, because it's a part of who he is.

“Doctors aren't sure if schizophrenia is genetic. They know that most people who develop it do so either as a teen or in their early twenties. They do know that people who have a schizophrenic parent are more likely to develop the disease, but it doesn't mean they will for sure. I don't know if I'll get it or not, but I do know that if I do, I hope I handle it with the same courage as my dad.

“Schizophrenia is a disease. No different from cancer or MS or diabetes. The only reason people are ashamed of mental health conditions is because they let people convince them they should be. Anyone who makes fun of someone with a mental health condition is low. They might as well make fun of some kid with cerebral palsy.” I stared directly at Nicole. “If you ask me, people with mental health issues have nothing to be ashamed of; the people who find something funny in it do.”

No one said anything. A few kids were staring at me with their mouths open, and a lot of people were staring at their desks. It looked like Sam was crying in the back. Ms. Raymond stopped shuffling her papers for once and simply smiled at me.

“That was excellent, Isobel,” she said.

I gave her a nod and was ready to go back to my table when a kid raised his hand. “My mom's had depression. She takes medication for it.” He looked surprised to realize he'd said it out loud.

Someone in the back called out, “My uncle's bipolar.”

“My cousin has an anxiety disorder,” someone else said.

“Hell, I must be crazy with all the stuff going on in my brain,” said Luke from the football team, and almost everyone laughed as he stood up and took a bow.

“If he's crazy, then you better count me in too,” Gary said, giving Luke a high five.

Nicole and Brit didn't meet anyone's eyes; they stared straight ahead. Sam looked like she was developing her own anxiety disorder. Her hands were twisting back and forth and her eyes kept darting around at everyone else in the room and then back to Nicole. Nicole's mouth trembled and her hands were clenched into a knot on the desk.

I walked slowly back to my seat with my head held high and my shoulders back. Not only had I put Nicole in her place, but I felt proud of myself, and I was pretty sure I'd nailed an A+ on the presentation. Not too bad.

Chapter 38

T
he rest of the day passed without any hassles. In fact, a lot of people smiled at me in the hall or made a point to say hello. It would have been a perfect afternoon if only I could have come up with some idea of what I was going to do with the Dick problem. I checked my phone for the one millionth time. Still no message from Anita. I was going to have to talk this through with someone else.

I turned down a ride from Nate after school and walked over to the library instead. The cranky librarian was at her usual place, sort of hunched over the checkout desk, looking around waiting for someone to deface a book. She looked like the kind of person who liked to collect fines in the form of waterboarding. For the life of me I couldn't figure out why the town paid to have two librarians on staff at all times. I'd never been in there when they
were dealing with a crowd. It wasn't like there was a long line of people all pushing and shoving to get their literary needs met.

I found Mandy in her usual spot in the stacks. She smiled when she saw me.

“You look happy,” she said.

“Today was one of those days that started off lousy, but ended good.”

“How are things going?” She turned her head to the side. It didn't seem like an idle question. It felt like she was really interested.

I plopped down in a seat. I really needed to talk to someone who wasn't involved in the situation. It felt like things were spinning out of control and I could use some help in figuring out what to do. I'd hoped Anita would have called, but she must still have been ticked. Mandy seemed like my best option, and with the librarian code of silence, I was pretty sure she wouldn't blab to anyone. So much had happened since I saw her last that I wasn't even sure where to begin. I explained how we'd tried to contact the ghost, but hadn't had any luck at first, but then found the book with the documents in it. I told her how Nate and I suspected our parents had known each other before the accident, and that our big fear is that they may have been involved in what happened, but we didn't have any way to prove it and I was certain Dick was putting plans in place to get rid of me. “And Nate wants to go to the police, but …” My voice trailed off.

“You're afraid the police won't believe you, especially since
the Wickham family has so much money and prestige here on the island.”

“You're going to tell me I'm being stupid and should trust the justice system.”

“No. You're right. I know the Wickham family is responsible for a lot of things. When those girls disappeared, do you know what happened? They fell through a rotted well cover. The first girl was killed when she fell, but the other girl was alive. Scared, hungry, hurt, but alive. She called for help, and just when she was starting to give up hope, someone came. He looked down that well, saw her there, and then slid a new piece of wood across the top. He left her down there because he didn't like anyone on his land, he didn't want to be sued because the well cover hadn't been fixed, and he knew he'd get away with it. And he did get away with it. By the time the police searched the property, she couldn't call for help anymore because she was dead too. They never found those girls.” Her voice was low, but I could feel the waves of anger coming off in every word.

“Wait, how could you know all of that?”

She shrugged and looked out the window. “Only someone there would know, but that's my theory.”

While I appreciated that she felt she could tell me things, I had enough mysteries to solve without worrying about if Dick had killed anyone else twenty years ago. I sighed in frustration. “I still don't know what to do.”

“You need to get Richard Wickham to confess to what he did.”

“I know, but I don't know how to do that. It's not like if I ask him, he's going to roll over and spill his guts, just because I asked. He's not afraid of me.”

Mandy smiled. “I think you've put your finger on it. Everyone is afraid of something, and fear can drive people to do a lot of things they wouldn't otherwise do. What is Richard afraid of?”

“I don't know.” I sighed again. Mandy didn't say anything. I knew this was one of those situations where I was supposed to come up with the answer on my own. I tried to think. “He wouldn't be afraid of the police, because he'll figure they'd believe him.”

“So who would he be afraid of? Who makes him nervous?”

I chewed on my thumbnail while I thought about it. I couldn't really think of anyone. The one benefit of being as arrogant as Dick is that he assumes everyone loves him, and if they seem not to like him he chalks it up to jealousy. I'd never seen him be intimidated by anyone. The only person I could remember him talking about with any sort of awe was his mom. It was clear his mom wasn't exactly the cuddly sort who met him after school with graham crackers and milk. She was more of the “whack you on the back of the hands with a ruler and tell you to suck it up” sort. She'd be a great one to help me, except for the fact that she'd been dead for years. Figures. I had one ghost to help me, but not the one I needed.