The Lies I Told(98)

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Marisa.”

“I know. But you might need me. I can talk to him.”

“We’ll see.” He looked around the apartment as if satisfying himself it was clear. “Can you manage alone?”

I looked back at the door and the bright shiny brass locks. “I can. Thanks.”

“Lock the door behind me.”

I jangled the keys in my hand. “Will do, boss.”

When he left, I turned each lock and chain, and only when the last was thrown did his steps echo down the stairs.

I walked up to one of the remaining pictures and stared at the misty landscape. “We did it, Clare. We did it.”





52


MARISA

Tuesday, March 22, 2022

10:00 a.m.

I arrived at the Richmond City Jail the next morning to find Richards waiting for me in the lobby. He was dressed in his going-to-court suit, and he’d polished his shoes. “Marisa. Did you sleep well last night?”

“All things considered, I did.” I hadn’t gotten a full eight hours, but the sleep I did get was more restful. “Where’s David?”

“He’s in holding now. Already has a lawyer. You were right. He’s not talking, and Jack is sticking to his story. Unless I can get him to talk, I won’t be able to hold him for more than twelve more hours.”

“But you’re testing his DNA.”

“It’ll take more than a positive DNA test and the picture he bought from you to hold him. Neither is a crime.”

“She was underage.”

“Statute of limitations on statutory rape has run out. I’ve interviewed him twice since he was brought in, and he’s denying everything. Says he doesn’t know Jack that well. His lawyer is about a half hour away from arriving and has instructed David not to talk to the cops.”

“And Jack?”

“He’s still in holding but will be released in a couple of hours. He insists he found you drinking, and you attacked him.”

My blood alcohol had registered 0.1. “And the bruises on my body?”

“All a part of his attempt to keep you from hurting yourself and him. He’s claiming you attacked him first.” He dropped his voice. “This isn’t the first time for these two. They likely had a story locked down thirteen years ago. And they’re sticking to it.”

“Where’s Brit and Jo-Jo?”

“They’ve not been allowed to visit yet.”

“I’ll talk to David.” Richards had made his request when he’d called this morning. He now hoped seeing me would shake up David.

His face was grim when he nodded. “Follow me.”

I presented my ID to the officer at the front desk, and Richards swiped his badge, which allowed us access through double doors, where he checked his gun in a locker as I checked my purse. We made our way down a nondescript hallway, and he opened the last door on the right for me. Inside was a large table with two chairs. On the other side of a thick piece of plexiglass was another table with a setup that mirrored this one.

“I can stay with you,” he said.

“It might be more effective if I’m alone with him. Assuming you have cameras.”

“Several,” he said. “We don’t want to miss a word. He’ll also be handcuffed.”

“All the better.”

“Have a seat,” he said. “We’ll be right back.”

I sat in a chair, shifting my weight until the hard back didn’t press against my darkening bruises. I was going to be six shades of blue for the next few weeks.

Two minutes later the door opened and David, now dressed in an orange jumpsuit, was escorted into the adjoining room. His hands and feet were shackled. Richards walked him to a seat on the other side of the partition. When David saw me, his expression softened, and his gaze ran over me as if taking inventory of all my injuries. I waited until Richards left the room and closed the door behind him. We weren’t in a private room, but maybe David would forget if I played it well.

“What happened?” David asked.

I shifted, didn’t suppress a wince. “Jack.”

His brow knotted. “I’m sorry.”

In his world he really was sorry. “I don’t blame you. He’s more than either one of us bargained for. Have you seen Brit?”

“We spoke on the phone. She’s gotten legal counsel for me. He’s on his way.”

Brit was helping David. The idea soured my stomach, and it took a moment before I could speak without anger sharpening my tone. “She’s a great advocate to have in your corner. She’ll get you the best.”

“She’s one of a kind.”

He looked so calm, so normal. Another surge of rage cut through me, and it took all my control to ease back in the chair and appear relaxed. I remembered Richards’s tone, always even and calm. Yelling wasn’t going to get David to talk.

“I’ve been thinking back to the last time I spoke to Clare,” I said. “She’d had a couple of drinks and I was high. No surprise there, right?”

“You’re sober now.”

I was the proud owner of another newly minted first-day chip to prove it. “Doing my best.”

“You should be proud,” he said.