Jane Doe(74)

What I’ve done is nothing close to murder, but I’ve still braced myself for some sort of danger. Minnesota is a one-party-consent state for recording, but I assume I could be charged with other minor crimes, like stalking or fraud. Invasion of privacy. Even revenge porn, if they’ve put that on the books yet. But if anyone has called the police, I haven’t heard about it. Maybe the Hepsworths don’t want more attention. If this went to trial, it would be a huge national hit.

So now I’m feeling a little . . . deflated. I’m not sure what to do with myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m satisfied. It’s not quite an eye for an eye, but it’s darn close.

On the monitor, Steven puts his phone to his ear. I turn the sound back on in time to hear him rasp my name. “Jane? You’d better call me back, you evil bitch. Who are you? Who the fuck are you? Why did you do this?” He hangs up and starts crying again.

I blow him a kiss. “That was all for Meg, sweetie. Love you bunches.” That was how Meg always signed off on emails. I guess Steven never noticed.

I want to tell him. I desperately want him to know that this was all for Meg. I would have if I’d stabbed him in the woods. I’d have whispered it in his ear over and over again. But I’ve let him live, and now I can’t offer him the relief of knowing.

Because it would be a relief. To know who I was and why I did it. Steven would be able to blame it all on Meg. Hang another sign on her corpse and tell himself that none of this was his fault. It was all that crazy bitch Meg and her crazy bitch friend.

No, this way is better. Let him wonder for the rest of his life. Let him look into every shadow and worry I’m waiting to hurt him again. Let him believe that any woman might destroy him at any time.

I’ll know I did it all for Meg and that will have to be enough.

Meg.

I still miss her. Revenge hasn’t eased that. I guess I hoped I might wake up Monday morning and feel better. But every morning I wake up and she is still gone and I am still hollow.

I haven’t eased the terrible loss. I haven’t made that better. Is there any way to do that? I know what other people do. Is that the secret? To pretend to grieve like a real person?

I close the laptop and grab my coat and keys. This is something I didn’t want to do, which means I should probably do it.

It only takes fifteen minutes to get to my destination. She’s been so close this whole time.

I park along the narrow, twisting road and walk between stones and trees until I come to her grave. The marker is tiny. I guess there wasn’t money for anything grand. I should have thought of that. I should have offered to pay for something pretty.

Megan Peterson, beloved daughter.

I wish it said more. I wish it sang her praises. That she was pretty, yes, but that her smile made her absolutely glow. That she was kind to everyone, even those of us who were broken. That she never tired of helping her friends, though she finally grew too tired to save herself.

“I miss you,” I say. Then I stand silent.

I don’t believe in prayer. I know she’s not listening. I have no idea why I’ve come. Still, I stand there for a long time. I think maybe I’ll cry, but I don’t. It’s just me, alone, empty as ever.

“Meg,” I finally whisper. “It’s not what you would have wanted, but I made him pay for hurting you. I made him hurt too. Because I love you, Meg. I know I love you. You’re all I ever had.”

Meg doesn’t answer, and I’m empty and dry.

I wish Luke were here with me. He would have told me to bring flowers.

I’m sure he’s been texting and calling, but I destroyed that phone on Friday. I thought I’d leave in a couple of days. I thought I’d have to. It’s time to go home.

But home to what?

My big apartment, my big job, the big parties where I meet men I can use for a week or two? There’s no Meg waiting to hear what I’ve been up to. No one I can call and gossip with. No plans to make for visits. No silly surprise greeting cards to remind me that someone somewhere truly cares about me.

I don’t have a Meg anymore. But . . . maybe I could have a Luke.

It’s just now dawning on me that I can stay if I want. Stay here in this city that’s so perfect in the summer and too cold and quiet in the winter. In this place that reminds me of Meg. In the only place I’ve ever felt any sense of family.

If no one files any charges, then I have nothing to fear. I’m free. Even if I run into Steven on the street one day, I’ll just smile with a lot of teeth and watch his face pale. But we don’t really run in the same circles.

I could be nearly real here, at least for a little while. Luke doesn’t know me the way Meg did. He probably never will. But he knows that I’m different. And he likes it. He might even learn to whisper “Be nice, Jane” just when I need it.

Or maybe there’s a chance I could be really real in this life. Is that possible? I’ve never imagined it before.

I enjoy Luke. I like him. And, more than that, I trust him. Maybe that would be enough for me to be in a true relationship. If I can predict his actions and intentions, perhaps I could really understand him in a way I’ve never understood other humans. Maybe I could love and be loved.

But maybe not. I pull up a list of flights to Kuala Lumpur and I wonder.





CHAPTER 49