Blindspot

“The thing you must understand about me is that I am not someone who is crazy, no matter what they told you out there.” Harvey tried to tap the ash off of his cigarette but the conditions of his nerves were so shot that he smashed the cherry into the ashtray instead.

“Right, I believe you.” Deborah Callahan, who was unfortunate enough to catch this as her first case as a public defender, held out her matchbook so he could re-light. Harvey snatched a match out of the book.

“No, you don’t.” He said indignantly. “You’re just saying whatever you have to, to keep me calm. I get it, too. ‘Cause what kind of guy just pushes a woman off the bridge like that? Psychos. So yeah, I get it. But I’m telling you, there was no woman.”

Harvey shivered in the New Denver chill of autumn. He dropped his hands into his pockets. When he’d left for his walk it had been considerably warmer, and he was frustrated with the sudden shift in weather. Things never seemed to go his way, he thought, as he walked back to his office.

As he passed the bridge he saw a group of people standing near the side, shouting over the edge. He thought it strange, but when he checked his watch he saw that he was running a bit late, and he decided to ignore it. Tourists were always doing stupid things he didn’t understand.

He thought of the crowd no more, and so when he left the offices at dusk and saw that it had grown, and there was now a police car parked beside them, he was doubly surprised. He checked his watch again and thought about his young wife at home, and elected still to investigate. It could be a fun story to tell, he thought. Surely she would understand.

He floated around the edge of the crowd, picking things up here and there. He ultimately discerned that there was a young woman on the railing, threatening to kill herself, and that she was very beautiful. That’s what he heard repeated, “Oh, she’s so pretty! It’d be such a waste…”

Harvey drew closed his coat and smoothed back his hair, feeling conscious now of his own appearance.

“So pretty.” Someone tsked again. He listened for the girl’s cries and protests, but none reached his ear. He thought to himself that he must at least see this woman, even if there was nothing he could do to help (not that he cared much to do anything) he would still be able to say he saw it. Who knows, maybe she’d become some kind of beautiful tragedy, like the Black Dahlia, and he could tell his wife and friends about it for years to come.

He began to push through the throng the way only New Denver natives can. He forced himself forward until he reached the police tape.

But there was no girl.

There were cops posted a few feet away from the railing, and a plain-clothed officer stood facing the same spot of air just above the ledge, talking to it in the calm and even tone people used when talking to someone crazy, but there was no one there.

Harvey frowned, annoyed now that his time had been wasted.

“Hey!” He shouted at one of the officers. “What is this, some kind of performance piece? Don’t you know it’s against the law to impersonate the police?”

The cop furrowed his brow. “I don’t know what you’re on about, sir. Please keep quiet or I will remove you from the area. This is serious.”

Harvey chuckled mirthlessly, astonished, he looked around the crowd for some sort of affirmation, but the people around him simply shook their heads and continued to watch the empty air above the railing.

“Come on!” he shouted. “What, are you all in on it? God, I hate actors.”

“Sir!” One of the officers began to protest, and someone in the crowd shoved Harvey.

“Oh, shut up!” He was at the top of his lungs now, yelling at everyone around him. “There’s no one there!”

“Alright, that’s enough.” The cop walked forward, placing a hand on Harvey’s arm.

“Get your hands off of me!” Harvey pushed ahead and under the police tape, rushing toward the ledge. “Look!” he said. The crowd gasped in horror, palms over open mouths.

“Hey-hey-hey!” the officers all outstretched their arms to him.

“Look now, don’t do anything crazy.” The plain-clothes was inching closer and closer. They looked over his shoulder to the space behind him. “Stay right there, ma’am we’ll get him far away, just stay calm.” They were quiet for a moment, then they nodded as if in response to something.

This agitated Harvey further. He threw his arms up. “You’re all idiots! There’s no one here! God-damned sheep!” and he pushed the air behind him. Only, he didn’t push the air. When he reached the spot everyone was watching, he felt his hand connect with someone, and to his horror, he felt that weight fall back over the edge.

“Oh my God!” The crowd screamed. A cop raced forward and tackled him to the ground seconds too late. People hurried forward now, ignoring the police tape. They looked over the railing. Harvey watched in confusion and fear as the water beneath them splashed as it swallowed something—someone—whole.

Callahan leaned back in her seat. She let out a heavy sigh. “I’ll be honest with you, Harvey. It’s not the perfect defense I was hoping for.”

“I won’t let you try me for insanity, either. I’m not insane.” Harvey said. He smashed his cigarette into the ashtray accidentally again, and elected to just be finished with it rather than relight it.

“But that’s the thing, Harv.”

“Don’t call me Harv. I’m not one of your friends.”

“Fine. But that’s the best I can do for you. Insanity gets you in a ward for a bit, and then you’re out. That’s loads better than what they’ll probably be going for.”

“And what’s that?”

“Death Penalty.”

Harvey couldn’t hide the knot that formed in his throat. He swallowed hard. “Right, then.” He nodded. “I’ll play that part.”

It was only a very short while until Harvey was released into the population once again. His wife was so humiliated by the whole thing that they left New Denver as soon as they were able. Harvey learned to enjoy the new energy of the Dakota capital. There was a similar hustle and bustle, and oddities were a regular occurrence—a trade, even. And the landscape on the strip was a sight to see. Harvey liked walking it at night, watching it all lit up.

One day, he passed by one of the taller hotels, where a crowd had formed at the base, shouting up and pointing at its roof.

Harvey kept his eyes forward and hurried past, not even looking back when he heard the screams and the crunch of something hitting the ground.

“It wouldn’t do not to see.” He whispered. “It just wouldn’t do.”