Real Bad Things(81)
She’d actually cried when Missing Finger left. She’d liked him. She and Jason had begun to think of him as their dad. They talked about how amazing it would be when they could all live together. They would be a family.
Diane had shrugged when Jane asked where he’d gone and what had happened and said, Good riddance.
What had happened?
If she could just see that photo. Confirm which finger. It was madness. Pure madness. She’d been up all night, drinking coffee. Her brain was going haywire. But she had to see. “I’ll just be a minute—”
Diane grabbed her by the arm, yanked her off balance. She wedged in front of Jane, blocking the door. “I told you not to put shit in there!”
The cold stare coming from Diane nearly choked Jane’s courage. “Okay. Calm down. I’ll grab my suitcase and then there won’t be anything in there.” When Diane didn’t move, she grew bold. “Are you gonna let me get my suitcase?”
Rage flared on Diane’s face. Before Jane knew what was happening, Diane had opened the door and rampaged through the room, throwing shit every which way until she found Jane’s open suitcase and threw that out the door at Jane, hefting it easily despite the size.
Jane held her hands up to block it. “Jesus Christ.”
“Here!” Diane threw a shoe, a pair of pants, an empty bottle of lotion that didn’t even belong to Jane. “Take your shit and go!”
Jane dodged an unidentified flying object coming her way. “You don’t have to be—”
“There! There’s your shit!”
An empty tape dispenser hit Jane’s face. “Ow!”
Shirts and underwear and socks confettied around Jane. She tried to see inside the room, to locate the box with the photos, but Diane stormed out and slammed the door shut. Hair fell over her sweat-beaded face.
“There. There’s all your shit. Now stay out of there.” She started down the hallway but then paused. “Why are you even here? You should be in jail. Why don’t you take your shit and just go on and get out? I’m sick of looking at you.”
Jane’s hands shook as she gathered her clothes off the floor. But she could only fight one battle right now, and that was how to get inside that room.
As soon as she closed her suitcase and prepared for a conciliatory speech—something, anything to get in that room—Diane’s hands were at her throat.
Thirty
JANE
Startled, Jane scrambled for something to throw, something to defend herself with, but all her hands found was a shoe. She raised it above her head and started hitting behind her.
Diane clenched Jane’s neck tighter as she screamed, “All this time you knew Georgia Lee killed him!”
Jane struggled to breathe but finally managed to break free from Diane’s grip. She scrambled away from Diane and ended up back in the living room. She rubbed her throat, shocked.
“You knew.” She raced toward Jane, finger stabbing the air, shrieking out her words. “And you hid it from me. You didn’t say a thing. You lied to me. All these years. You knew all along. You were protecting her.”
“I didn’t—” Before she could say more, Diane pummeled her with her fists. Though her limbs were twigs, the punches landed in sharp little stabs. Jane batted her away. When that didn’t work, she hurried into the kitchen, the table between them. They stood across from each other, both panting like wild animals, daring the other to make a move.
Finally, Jane was able to catch her breath. “I didn’t know until last night. Jason didn’t even tell me what happened. Georgia Lee did. She never meant for anything bad to happen. Warren attacked her.”
“Warren would never touch her! She’s a lying bitch!” Spit flew across the table. Diane continued to rail against Georgia Lee. Sometimes coherent, mostly not. How she’d probably come over in a seductive outfit—which would’ve made Jane laugh if not for the tears and snot rolling down Diane’s face and the throbbing pain in Jane’s throat—and had come on to Warren and then gotten mad at him for not wanting to fuck her. “He’d never touch her!”
“She defended herself,” Jane said. “And Jason.”
“Of course she’s gonna say that.” Diane yanked her purse off the chair and threw it at Jane’s head. “I’m going to make sure they fry her ass.”
“What about me?” Jane’s whole body pulsed, fight or flight. “You were willing to let me fry, too, even though you knew I didn’t do it and thought Jason had. You knew Jason had done it. You helped him.”
She repeated the words until Diane acknowledged them.
“What are you talking about?” Diane gasped for breath.
“I know you helped Jason hide what happened that night.”
Briefly, the mask fell, and Jane caught the truth before the lie. “You’re lying! You’ve always lied! You lied all the time because you were jealous of me and my boyfriends. You’re a lying liar!”
“Jason knew Georgia Lee killed Warren. He’s the one who lied to you about everything. Not me.”
“What?” Diane shook her head in confusion.
She still wanted Diane to want her. To feel something, to love her, to hold her, to mother her. If Diane offered it, Jane would take it. She’d forgive her. She’d love her back.