The Lies I Told(101)

My phone led me to the address she’d given me. It was in Hanover County on a rural stretch of road. Off the beaten path, as requested.

Dust kicked up around my car as I rolled down the long gravel driveway. I parked at the top portion in front of a two-story, newly constructed craftsman-style home. I checked my phone and switched on the recording app. (Never can be too careful.) This place was well crafted, and I wondered if Jack had taken some of that cash he’d had tucked away and built this house. He always wanted a large home filled with children.

Climbing the stairs, I rang the bell and was quickly rewarded with the steady thud of lumbering feet. When the door opened, my gaze was immediately drawn to Jo-Jo’s round face and her very full belly. She looked bloated and pale, and there was no sign of the glow women in her state professed to have.

“Brit, thanks for coming.” Her voice echoed in the empty foyer.

“You look well.”

“I’m a beached whale.” She stepped aside, and I entered quickly. This was the country, but prying eyes existed in the sticks as well.

“As I told you on the phone, I can’t give you any legal advice.”

Jo-Jo closed the door. “I know. I just wanted to talk. I have coffee in the kitchen.”

“Where is Jack?” I asked. “Is he here?” He could have been lurking in the shadows, as he had been when Marisa had come home to her apartment.

She turned, slowly and carefully. “He’s meeting with his attorney today. He goes to trial next week.”

Jack was a smart man and knew the only real pieces of evidence against him were the assault and battery charges from his attack on Marisa. His attorney had already pressed for a dismissal, citing Marisa’s drug and alcohol use, but the judge had refused. If Jack had not punched Marisa, he could’ve skated free entirely because David—my lovable, manipulative David—hadn’t produced any evidence backing his claims that Jack had helped him dispose of Clare’s body.

The only DNA linked to Clare belonged to David. Tests proved he had fathered her unborn child. When I’d learned that detail, it had stung deeply. I thought about all the nights we’d talked about making a baby of our own one day. Bastard.

David had hired a top-notch attorney, who was already arguing that fathering a child was not a criminal offense. His case would go to trial in the new year.

“How are you holding up?” Jo-Jo asked.

“Well enough,” I said. That wasn’t true. There’d been some terrible, lonely nights filled with tears and anger. But in the end, I pulled myself together. Putting one foot in front of the other wasn’t always easy, but it was the only way to get out of hell.

The scent of new construction hung in the air as I followed her down a hallway painted a light gray. There were no pictures on the walls, and the rooms to my left and right were empty. The hallway ended in a bright kitchen with a massive island covered in white marble. The only splash of color was a wooden bowl of apples by the farmhouse sink. There were two coffee cups from a local shop.

“Is this your new home?” I asked.

“We’re considering it. I convinced the Realtor to let me visit alone.”

“Aren’t you the clever one.”

Jo-Jo set one of the cups in front of me. I pried off the top and confirmed there was no cream. Had she asked Jack what I liked? The coffee smelled good, and the cup warmed my fingers, but I hesitated to drink. To this day, I hated to accept a drink I hadn’t poured myself.

A frown furrowed Jo-Jo’s forehead. “Have you spoken to David?”

I set the cup down carefully. “I have not. There’s nothing for us to talk about.”

“I thought you’d want to see him and get some kind of closure. Marisa talked to him.”

“Closure is for the weak. And my sister was helping the police.” I was a little amazed how well Marisa had handled herself.

“After all these years, she solved Clare’s murder.”

“With a little help from you.”

“I just gave her Clare’s camera.”

“After all these years, why give it to her now?” I asked.

“It seemed the right thing to do.” She raised her chin, as if she’d stepped up onto the moral high ground.

“It wasn’t the right thing to do five, ten, or thirteen years ago?” I pressed. I could smell evasion.

“I was young. Scared. And I didn’t want to drag my parents back into the limelight.”

“Your timing couldn’t have been more perfect,” I said. “I mean, with David in town.”

Jo-Jo didn’t take the bait but angled in a new direction. “Jack’s attorney has seen the footage of Marisa and David’s conversation in jail. David said some terrible things about Jack.”

“Did he? I wouldn’t know.” That wasn’t true. I still had sources in the department, and they kept me posted. David had happily told how Jack helped him dispose of my sister’s body. Even now, when I thought about David squeezing the life out of Clare, I remembered how he could be rough in bed, and how I’d actually enjoyed it.

“He thought Clare was Marisa,” Jo-Jo said. “Clare had been pretending she was Marisa the night they met. And for whatever reason, she kept the charade going whenever they were together.”

I shouldn’t blame Marisa for Clare’s foolish game, but for some reason I did. All trouble led back to Marisa. “Doesn’t really matter which sister he killed, does it?” It did, but I’d never say that out loud. “Have you seen Marisa?”