Real Bad Things(70)

Georgia Lee breathed deeply and pushed back against her seat. Little pops rang out from her spine. “It wasn’t intentional. Everything happened so fast. With Warren. With you assuming Jason did it . . .” She rubbed her face. “I reacted. Poorly. Certainly.”

Georgia Lee’s tone was earnest, but her words made no sense. “Sounds like your intention was to let someone else take the fall, then and now. Even if you were in shock back then, you still said nothing after I confessed—”

“I couldn’t!” Georgia Lee looked pained. “I told you my parents locked me in my room and wouldn’t let me out! Your mom blackmailed them into not mentioning my name.”

“You never said a thing when we talked about it when we went for pizza after the funeral. You asked me if you could fucking visit me. In prison. For a crime you committed.” Jane yanked her arms out of the fleece jacket and threw it on the floor. The air in the car had become hot, suffocating. She glared at Georgia Lee. “Forgive me, but I find that more than a little psycho.”

“Don’t say that.” Georgia Lee gripped her head, fingers pulling at the roots of her hair, which reminded Jane of an ex’s grandmother, who’d had a stroke and got frustrated when no one understood what she was trying to say. “I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

Georgia Lee seemed to struggle with the answer. “That I murdered him.”

The proper response would be anger, but Jane was too baffled by what Georgia Lee had said. She could only stare, wide eyed and open mouthed. “You forgot that you murdered him?”

“Yes,” Georgia Lee said, as if relieved to finally be understood. She placed a hand on Jane’s thigh. “I’m so sorry.”

“You forgot? You just tore me a new asshole for leaving behind a photo of us after being arrested for a crime you committed.” Jane lifted Georgia Lee’s hand off her thigh and shoved it away from her. This was not how things were supposed to go. They were supposed to have a reprieve. At least for ten goddamn minutes before the world came crashing down again. “How the fuck could you forget that you murdered someone?”

“I don’t know!” Georgia Lee took a moment to collect herself. “I’m sure there’s some literature out there to explain—”

“Literature?” Jane repeated, stunned at what she heard.

Flustered, Georgia Lee yanked her hair behind her ears. “You know. About trauma. The things it can do to the mind.”

“Did your parents also send you to a therapist? Ask them to implant some memories of Jason killing Warren instead of you?”

“No! I swear.”

“How would you know? You can’t remember shit.”

Georgia Lee’s eyes began to swell with tears.

Jane pressed her hands in front of her, trying to organize everything into logic. “You’re telling me now. That means you recently remembered.”

Georgia Lee paused, too long. “Yes?” she said, but as if it were a question.

“When?”

Another pause. “That night I dropped you off. After the funeral and pizza.”

“And you had, what, a flashback?”

Recognition lit her face. “Yes. I suppose you could call it that.”

Jane counted the number of days it’d been since the funeral. A week, maybe more? Time got harder to track the longer she spent in Maud. A week. At least a week, Georgia Lee had known. And she’d said nothing. Without those photos coming to light, would she have admitted it at all? Would she have let Jane believe the lie indefinitely? Would she have let her go to prison? Anger rippled under the surface of her calm.

“So did you think that fucking me was going to keep me quiet? Or that it would somehow persuade me to go to prison for you because, shit, if I would do it for Jason, I’d do it for you? Was that your big plan?”

Georgia Lee flinched and sat up straight. Her fingers wove in and out, as if trying to put the pieces together. The omissions. The lies, old and new. “I never lied.”

“Not telling the truth is the same as telling a lie.”

“A lie would have been me telling you, in these words: ‘Jason killed Warren.’ I never said that.”

As the confusion cleared and fury rose, Jane gripped the door handle. “Use whatever wording you’d like. The fact remains: You kept this from me. You only told me when your ass is on the line with those photos, fresh off of fucking me.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how many times I can say I’m sorry, but I will.” Georgia Lee placed a hand to her head. Her brow crinkled. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t . . . I don’t know how to explain this to you. I don’t understand any of this.” She collapsed her head onto the steering wheel to cry.

Jane waited for her to pull herself together. “What does Jason have to say about this? Did he forget too?”

“I don’t know.” Georgia Lee rubbed at her eyes. “We never talked about it. But something happened. He looked at me—”

“Who?”

“Jason. It’s like he didn’t want me to say anything.”

“When?”

“That night!”

“Why?” Jane tried to trap her irritation given the tears that continued to streak Georgia Lee’s face. She failed. “You’re not making any sense.”