The Lies I Told(100)
“I understood she didn’t want to hurt me.”
“There were times when she’d start screaming at me. When she did that, I always thought I’d lose my mind. She could be so dramatic.”
His eyes grew a little distant, and when he looked at me, I wasn’t sure who he was seeing. “I just wanted you to be quiet and listen to me.”
He was mixing us up, so I played along. “I couldn’t control myself. I’m sorry.”
“I thought you’d gone to sleep. I thought you’d wake up and we’d talk and work it all out.”
“Having a baby scared me.”
“Not me. Never me. I asked you to marry me.”
“Why did I go to sleep?”
He dropped his hand. “I put my hands around your neck to silence you. I just wanted you to be quiet. Then you went to sleep and you didn’t wake up.”
Tears glistened in my eyes. “You didn’t mean to squeeze so long. I know that.”
“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t.”
Rage charged me, but I pushed it aside. “And you called Jack.”
“I didn’t want to. But I didn’t know what else to do,” David said. “He could fix anything.”
“Where did she die, David?” I asked.
“In my car. We were in the back seat. She changed her mind and wanted to leave. I just wanted to talk.”
I still kept my fingers pressed to the glass. “It’s no one’s fault.”
He looked up at me. “I’m so sorry.”
“Jack stripped her, didn’t he? A fixer would have thought about DNA.”
“I could barely watch. I was crying. And a mess.”
More tears sprang from my eyes, but they were prompted by rage. “Did you carry her to the river and leave her there?”
He shook his head and dropped his gaze. “No. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave her. Jack did it.”
The door to my room opened and Richards appeared. “That’s good, Marisa.”
I rose. My legs were shaky, and my hands were trembling.
David looked up at me. “I’m sorry. Forgive me.”
He would spend the rest of his life suffering. He would rot in hell. I wanted to rail. Tell him I hated him.
“Let it go,” Clare whispered. “Don’t carry this anymore.”
My shoulders slumped. “I’ll never forgive you, David. Never.”
53
MARISA
Tuesday, March 22, 2022
Noon
After a long hot shower, I dressed in old sweats and a T-shirt and spent an hour scrubbing all the surfaces covered in fingerprint powder before my body gave out and I had to lie down on the couch for a nap. I wasn’t sure how long I slept, but when I woke, the sun was setting over the river.
A knock at my door had me rising carefully. My body was still stiff, and my gut tender to the touch. At least the hangover from the tequila was fading. I moved to the door and looked out the peephole. Alan.
I undid the locks and opened the door. “Hey.”
His gaze swept over me. “I heard what happened. I know you probably need time, but I had to see you.”
The concern in his voice touched me, and it took a moment before I could speak. “What can I say? Never a dull moment.”
“Are you okay?”
“No, but I will be.”
He held up a bag of burgers and french fries. “Want to come by for dinner? You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”
“I won’t be great company now.”
“You’re many things, Marisa Stockton, but one of them is not boring.”
I laughed and quickly paid for it with a jab of pain. “Sure, burgers sound great.”
Tomorrow, I’d find another meeting, talk about what had happened, and get back to my work and art. My life would go on. There’d be no Clare or Brit. And Jo-Jo, no doubt, would be consumed with Jack’s trial and the baby. She’d saved me, but she’d also lied. If I never saw her again, that would suit me just fine.
I’d cut these people out of my life. I would be okay. I should’ve felt lost and lonely, but I didn’t.
“You did it,” Clare whispered.
No, we did. We did.
54
BRIT
Six Months Later
Tuesday, October 18, 2022
Noon
I’d accepted Jo-Jo’s invitation to meet because I was curious. I didn’t really want to know how she was doing. I didn’t care if she and Jack were dreading his trial. I didn’t care if she was ready to deliver or if she was afraid of the future.
All I wanted to know was whether she’d heard from Marisa. I’d not spoken to my sister in seven months and was very curious. In fact, not knowing how she was doing was a little maddening. Was Marisa sober or was she drinking again? My money was on the booze. All this pressure from the police and media was a recipe for disaster. If the booze hadn’t gotten her yet, it would soon. It always did.
I’d insisted Jo-Jo and I meet at a neutral, discreet location. With Jack’s impending trial, the last thing I needed was to be seen with his wife. I should’ve said no to her request, but curiosity is deadly powerful.