Page 98 of Cruel Riches

I shrugged. “No. He just disappeared.”

“He disappeared?”

“Uh… yeah. I mean, I didn’t really see where he went. I had a knife in my guts, so I was more concerned about that.”

Belson looked at Fernandez and raised a brow. The look that passed between them made me stiffen. They didn’t believe me.

“When you arrived at the hospital, you told a doctor that the attack happened right near here,” Fernandez said. “Can you tell us exactly where it was?”

I racked my brains, trying to remember if I’d left a blood trail on the ground yesterday. If I did, I couldn’t tell them I was near the main med school building. The trail could lead back to the side of the building, and that could lead them right to the trapdoor.

On the other hand, I had to admit that the alleged attack happened on campus. There was nothing else around this area except the woods, and apparently, I’d told the doctors that it happened close to the teaching hospital.

“I think it was near the Blackthorne quad,” I said, knitting my brows as if I were deep in thought. “Honestly, though, it’s hard to remember exactly where I was. It’s pretty blurry.”

Belson nodded. “I understand.”

“Can you describe your attacker?” Fernandez chimed in.

I tried to conjure up a mental image of the kind of person who’d stab someone for their wallet.

“Very pale. Tall. Skinny. Twitched a lot, like he was on drugs.”

“Any specifics? Hair color? Eye color?”

“Uhh… brown hair, I think. I can’t remember his eyes.”

Belson frowned. My story obviously sounded like total bullshit, and I was pissing him off by not giving him any useful details.

“There was a tattoo,” I added, hoping that would take some of the heat off me. “Two, actually.”

Belson leaned closer. “Can you describe them?”

“One was on his wrist. A black circle with a pattern in it. I noticed it when he brought out the knife and waved it in my face,” I said. “It wasn’t very big, and I probably couldn’t draw the pattern for you from memory, but I think I’d know it if I saw it again.”

“All right. And the other one?”

“A small teardrop thing on his face, near one of his eyebrows. Like a gang tattoo, maybe.”

“A gang tattoo?” Belson looked skeptical again, and I knew I’d gone too far. There were no gangs on Avalon Island.

“Well… maybe not a gang thing, but it was definitely a weird tattoo,” I muttered.

“Right.” Belson was quiet for a moment as he wrote down some notes on the pad in front of him. Then he whispered something to Fernandez before looking back up at me. “Nate, are you absolutely sure this man was trying to mug you?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Your wallet and phone were in your pocket when you arrived at the hospital, even though your attacker could’ve taken them after he hurt you. Also, you said you couldn’t really understand much of what he was saying. Can you think back, really hard, and see if you can remember anything he said at all?”

Relief cascaded over me in warm waves as a realization sank in. I was wrong earlier. The detectives weren’t suspicious of me, and they didn’t doubt my story. They were just concerned because I told them I was a victim of a knife attack near the Blackthorne University quad.

They thought I might’ve been attacked by the Butcher copycat.

As far as they knew, the killer was still roaming around, searching for new victims. They had no idea that she’d already been apprehended—by me—and was currently languishing in a dark cell underground.

“I don’t know what he said,” I replied, shaking my head. “He was twitching a lot and talking really fast. I think it was just a drug thing. He needed money so he could score some more shit.”

Belson’s brows knitted. “That’s a possibility, yes, but we need to be extremely vigilant in regard to attacks on the Blackthorne campus right now. I’m sure you can understand why.”

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