Robin sat at my side staring at Nick’s phone with Weisel’s photo of Gretchen in the liquor store on the screen. “I can’t believe Gretchen thought it was you when she killed Laycee.”
“After my conversation with Marion, I realized Gretchen resented me all these years for marrying Jarret. Meeting me at the game personified her hatred, and then, when she stole into Jarret’s house the next morning, recognized the shirt I was wearing on his bedroom chair, and saw a naked woman with my shape and coloring in the bed—she went berserk. Her sheer hatred for me blinded her from seeing Laycee.”
“It takes a cold heart to stop and mark a victim like she did,” Dad said.
“Sealed the vengeance. A message to Liz.” Nick’s words made me shudder. “And Weisel can confirm Gretchen’s connection to the symbol.”
“If the case gets to trial,” Dad said. “She might plead out. Or she could try pleading insanity.”
Dave shook his head. “I doubt if she walked into the bedroom knife in hand. Going back for the knife signals intent.”
“Her indifference to her mistake is stunning. Amoral. She showed no signs of empathy or remorse at the gym on Thursday. Gretchen barely flinched when Tess and I talked about Laycee.” I stiffened. “Oh my God—Tess’s dream.”
Nick looked at me with puzzlement. “What are you talking about?”
“The night after the murder, a woman at the gym had a dream about me, Laycee, and a cheerleader fighting over Charlie Sheen on a lifeboat. I thought Tess was out of her mind, yet Marion Cooper told me Gretchen was on the pep squad in high school. How strange is that?”
“Not strange at all,” Mom said. “Dreams are important. The lifeboat represents uncontrollable emotions.”
“And the Charlie Sheen appearance in the dream is obvious,” Nick said.
“To you, maybe,” I said. “What did I miss?”
“I seriously have to catch you up on movies,” Nick said. He looked at Dave and together they said, “Major League.”
“Charlie Sheen played the role of a baseball pitcher,” Nick said. “Jarret?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know whether Tess’s dream impresses or frightens me.”
“I’d say Gretchen is more frightening than your friend’s dream,” Dave said. “Criminals are either ignorant or arrogant. But failing two—make that three, including today—attempted murders in the same week classifies Gretchen as one of the dumbest or craziest killers on record.”
“Her father preached vengeance as a right,” Nick said. “Once she had Liz in her sights, Gretchen felt entitled to take her due.”
“The smashed photo didn’t fit until Jarret’s mother described Gretchen’s obsession,” I said. “Carla pinned the motive—jealousy and revenge.”
“She just didn’t dig back far enough in Jarret’s history to find the real killer,” Robin said.
“Pratt would have gotten there,” Dave said. “And now that Gretchen confessed to starting the townhouse fire—”
“After she hacked into the gym’s computer for my address then rummaged through my backpack to confirm I hadn’t moved just so she could torch me and my home,” I added.
“I’m sure the Illinois authorities will reinvestigate the fire at the Bull Valley house last December and the blaze that killed her mother and siblings,” Dave said.
“What happens with Kyle and the steroids now?” I said.
“He won’t be in business for long,” Dad said. “This morning after we spoke, I tipped a contact at the DEA about Stanger’s sideline. He’ll be busted as soon as his next customer leaves Game On with drugs. I wouldn’t go back to that gym, Lizzie.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.” I tucked my arm under Nick’s, whispering, “I’m going to fly to Atlanta for Laycee’s funeral. I need to forgive her and wish her peace. Will you come?”
He squeezed my hand. “Of course.”
In the midst of the excitement, I realized I hadn’t notified Oliver. I took out my phone and dialed his private number.
Oliver answered with, “If Pratt’s with you, try for God’s sake to keep your mouth shut. Do you need a bail bondsman or the national guard?”
“Neither. You can call off your private eye and relax for the rest of the weekend. Laycee’s killer is in custody.”
“Jarvis confessed?”
I laughed, and then gave him the details on Gretchen’s attack and subsequent confession.
“No fooling?” he said. “I’m happy it worked out but I’ll miss working with you.”
“Me, too, Oliver.”
“Stay out of trouble, kid. But if you can’t, you know how to find me.”
A young doctor in green scrubs and straight blonde hair tied at the nape of her neck, entered the waiting room and said, “Is Liz Cooper here?”
Mom and Robin rose with me to face her. Ira swerved around, pocketed his phone, and joined us.
“I’m Dr. Adler, Jarret Cooper’s emergency room physician. Which one of you is Liz?”
“I am. How’s Jarret?” I searched her face, hoping for good news.
“He lost a lot of blood. We have him stabilized. I’m keeping him here overnight to monitor his blood pressure.”