All Good People Here(58)

His voice faded and he took a sip of beer. “She moved January’s body. She put her into the trunk, drove to that ditch, and dumped her there. Which is why all the evidence pointed to her. The entire country thinks my mom is a murderer because of me.”

Margot reeled with the impact of Jace’s story. It was incredible, unbelievable, and yet it explained everything. Everything except who the actual killer was.

“What about your dad?” she asked. During her interview with Billy, she’d suspected he’d been holding something back about Krissy and about Jace too. Had he known about his wife’s suspicions of their son? Had he known what she’d done to protect him? “What did he know? Did he help your mom that night?”

Jace shook his head. “According to her, he slept through the whole thing, but that’s all she really said about it. I can’t imagine he didn’t suspect something, though—of me or her, I’m not sure. After that night, we all just sort of fell apart…And before you ask, I don’t like my dad, and he wasn’t a good dad, but he’s not a murderer. Like I said, he loved January. More than he loved me. The media made us all look insane, but we were just a family. We might not have been happy, but we were normal.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and then Margot said, “So, what d’you think happened? If you didn’t kill January and neither did your mom or dad, who did?”

He leaned forward to grab the pipe from the table and took another hit. “I’ve always guessed that it was someone else. Some…man with an infatuation. I mean, the police said the side door was unlocked when they got there, which—it was Wakarusa, 1994. Everyone slept with their door unlocked. Someone could’ve just walked right in. That’s the irony: The story my mom wanted everyone to believe was what actually happened, but she fucked everything up so much that night we’ll never know who really did it.”

And if that were true—that a stranger had broken into the Jacobs house that night—that same someone could have written those words on the barn a few days ago, could’ve taken Natalie Clark from the playground in Nappanee, could’ve left that note on Margot’s car.

“Have you told any of this to the police?”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “I told Detective Townsend. A few months after my mom died, I showed him everything she’d sent me.”

“What happened?”

Jace shrugged. “Not much. He clearly didn’t believe what she’d written was true. Said the letters didn’t reveal anything concrete other than that she’d fucked up the crime scene. Said there was no way to even confirm the handwriting was hers now that she was dead. I’ve never had much credibility when it comes to the cops, but it pissed me off and, well, things sort of fell apart for me for a while after that.”

Margot’s mind flashed to that long list of crimes. “Can you remember anyone from your childhood who showed a special interest in January? Anyone who was at her recitals or practices who shouldn’t have been? Anyone you saw around in odd places?”

“No. And believe me—I’ve thought about it. I don’t remember a strange man ever lurking around.”

“What about a woman?”

He raised his eyebrows. “A woman?”

She nodded, an image of the auburn-haired woman in her mind. None of what Jace had said about that night had begun to explain her.

“Uh…Not that I can remember.”

“What about someone January talked about? Was there anyone she mentioned a lot back then?”

“Jesus, I don’t know. She talked about the other girls in her dance class. She talked about her dance teachers, Miss Morgan or Miss Megan or something. I think there was a Miss April, maybe. I don’t know. Oh, she had an imaginary friend,” he said with a breath of sarcastic laughter. “Are you interested in him? He went to her recitals and played with her at the park. She called him Elephant something because she said he had big ears.” He smiled at the memory, and when he spoke again, his voice had softened with nostalgia. “She made up a funny last name for him too. God, what was it? Elephant…Elephant…” He snapped twice slowly. “Oh! Elephant Wallace!”

For a moment, as he laughed, Jace looked happy, light. But then he seemed to remember what had gotten him talking about January’s invisible friend in the first place and his smile dropped. He looked weary once again.

“Listen, Margot, I wish I could help you more. But the truth is up until a few years ago, I hated myself so much I couldn’t think straight. I know now that it’s called survivor’s guilt, but when I was actually in it, all I could think was It should’ve been me. I was six, seven, eight years old, and I actually wished I had died instead of her.

“And then, for a long time, I tried burying all of it. I tried drinking and drugs and nothing, nothing made it go away. I’ve been arrested, I’ve lied, I’ve cheated. I mean, I’m better now—well, not totally, but whatever. What I’m saying is that night ruined my fucking life. Of course, I’ve thought about who it could’ve been. I think about it every day. And I don’t know.”

Margot nodded, stayed quiet. She burned with shame for putting him through all of this again. And also, somewhere deep beneath that, something was nagging at her brain. Something he’d said had triggered something inside her, but what it was, she couldn’t quite put her finger on.