Real Bad Things(91)

Thirty-Five

JANE

The motel hadn’t changed much since Jane’s first sojourn years ago. A brief stint of courage in her youth, before she’d ever met Georgia Lee or even Angie. For a week now, she had pinched pennies and hand-washed the two brand-new outfits she’d bought at the Walmart—Benjamin had requested her tattered, bloody clothes as evidence—because she’d been too anxious to walk back to Diane’s trailer and grab her clothes or laptop or anything else. All she had was what she’d had on her the night of their fight.

Jane picked at something on the faded bedspread and then looked over at Georgia Lee, who sat at a small table in front of the window, glancing at the carpet, the bedspread, the bedsheets. Probably not the place she’d envisioned stepping into first upon learning of her release. Cigarette smoke emanated from the fabric. The room was dark. The walls were water—and who knows what else—stained. Impenetrable dirt lodged in corners. The bathroom sink smelled of rust. Even after Jane had scrubbed everything and aired out the room.

Jane had a great ability to pretend everything was clean and nothing could hurt her.

“You said you wanted to talk,” Georgia Lee said. She looked tired, resigned. Ready to sign over her life for a little sleep.

“Jason won’t talk to me.”

Georgia Lee sighed heavily. “He stopped speaking to me the moment you burst in the station claiming the bones weren’t Warren’s.”

Never in a million years would Jane have believed they weren’t. And never in a million years would she have believed someone if they’d told her that an officer in the Maud Police Department would’ve had the sophistication and foresight to confirm not only the identity of the bones they’d found but also the time frame of when he’d gone missing and the time frame of his death, both of which ruled out Jason’s and Georgia Lee’s involvement in one Keith Lindsay’s death.

Keith Lindsay. After a news blast of the photo, a family from Missouri had claimed him. He’d worked construction in both states. Went missing back in ’89. His DNA matched theirs.

Keith Lindsay. Jane had turned the name over in her mind so many times in the past week, trying to remember more. She wanted to tell the family more, but she didn’t remember anything other than that summer day at the creek, his warm smile, his teasing and joking about his missing finger. Turned out he’d lost it as a child in a lawn mower accident.

As for Warren? Maybe he was dead. Maybe he was alive.

It’d all been a matter of three young, dumb teenagers, one alcoholic asshole, and self-defense.

Perhaps, Benjamin had said. Jane’s accusations about Diane had worked their way into his brain.

“Is that all?” Georgia Lee asked.

“No. It’s not. I don’t know why he lied about it,” Jane said. “Do you know why he lied to me?”

Georgia Lee wiped her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“And I still don’t know the truth.”

“I told you the truth.”

“Yeah, you told me you did it. But not why you both lied to me and let me go to juvie and then probably prison. Not to mention spending the bulk of my adult life in fear and anxiety and unable to have meaningful relationships or stabil—”

“I know. I’m sorry. I . . .” Georgia Lee scratched her head before folding her hands together. “It all happened so fast, with Warren. And then you took over, and everything snowballed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Georgia Lee sat there calmly, but a hint of anger flashed on her face. “It means: the ‘tough’ butch who thinks she has to save everyone even though they don’t ask for it confessed even though she told everyone else to keep quiet and then felt tortured and resentful about it afterward.”

She might as well have slapped Jane. She felt sure Georgia Lee had referenced Tough, Jane’s father’s nickname, on purpose. “That’s mean.”

“And you’re being nice?”

Her pulse quickened at what she’d brought out in Georgia Lee. So calm, but her words were knives. “Why did Jason lie to me?”

“Probably because you assumed he did it. Maybe it made him mad.” She began to speak but then stopped.

“Why did you confess to the cops?”

“I didn’t want you, or Angie, or Jason to go down for something you didn’t do.” Georgia Lee leaned forward, arms resting on the table.

Jane tried to sort her words into logic but failed. “Did you and Jason plan this?”

She grimaced. “Definitely not.”

“But why would he confess?” Jane rushed through her memories, tried to pinpoint moments that would bring the night into focus. “I already told them I did it.” Jane searched Georgia Lee’s face and waited for clarification. “Did you ask for something in exchange for his confession?”

“No. I didn’t even want him there. I had the same problem you did. No one believed me. I wanted to take the full blame. But then Jason showed up.”

Jane considered everything she’d said. “You must’ve said something to convince him to go along with you, even if you didn’t mean to. To make him feel guilty.” To make him believe he’d killed Warren. Maybe he’d lost his grip on reality. Maybe he’d always believed he’d done it. Maybe that was why he started boxing, or whatever it was he did.