Beneath Devil's Bridge(63)

I stare at him. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the guard outside the window checking his watch. The guard motions to me, two minutes. Tension torques.

“Why?”

“I’m a bad man, Trinity.” He looks at me so intently that I feel as though he’s trying to get inside my head. Into my body. I’m uncomfortable in my chair. I glance at the guard.

“I’m a sick, sick man. Sick with addictions I cannot control.”

“Addiction to child porn?”

“And alcohol. I used drink in an effort to numb the arousal I felt around girls, young teens. I used it to blunt that part of myself, that beast—the monster—that lived inside me, and controlled me.”

“The shadow that Leena wrote about?”

He nods. “I was in two halves. The evil shadow part of me that was aroused, and wanted the bad things. And the good part of logical me that knew my desires were bad, wrong. The good part of me sought medical help from a professional to kick the addictions. But it was to no avail. There is a devil inside me, Trinity. An evil. A sick ooze. And when . . . when my own sweet Lacey, whom I’d let down, saw those child-sex photos, I . . . I couldn’t even begin to try to go back to her. To my old life. There was no way on earth I could wipe that slate clean and attempt to start over. And I looked at those detectives who could see the devil inside me, who wanted to lock me up, and suddenly I knew. I had to go inside. I had to go behind bars. I wanted to be locked away. To save those around me. To save those kids. To protect my own child. To cut myself off from the temptations of evil.”

I swallow, suddenly filled with a strange sense of compassion that makes me feel deeply uncomfortable. I clear my throat.

“So . . . you confessed? You just made up these details about killing Leena Rai?”

He nods. There is real pain in this hardened man’s eyes. Is he playing me? The guard taps on the window. Tension whips tighter. Quickly I say, “And why no trial?”

“Because the trial could have exposed my lie. Because I wanted to go straight to prison. Because I never wanted to talk about any of the bad things again. I wanted to die. But I also didn’t want to die, because that was too easy. I . . . That part of me that sought help? That part wanted me to be punished. For a long, long time.”

“So why now, Clay? Why’re you telling the world this now? What do you want?”

The door opens.

“Time’s up, Pelley,” barks the guard.

“Is it because you want to go free? You want to get out of prison now?”

“I just want the truth out there.” He holds my eyes. “I want everyone to know there is still a killer on the loose who has not paid for what he did. Maybe he’s even killed again.”

The guard marches Clayton out. The door swings shut. I watch them through the glass. He looks back over his shoulder. Just for a minute. Before they round a corner and disappear.

Either he’s playing me like a fiddle.

Or it’s the truth.

And he just wants me and the world to know it now.





REVERB


THE RIPPLE EFFECT


NOW


Friday, November 19. Present day.

Darren stands in the doorway of his wife’s study. The lights inside have been dimmed, and a gas fire shimmers in the hearth. She’s replaying the third episode of the Leena Rai murder podcast series, which has just gone live. Darren is worried. It’s the fourth time she’s replayed that episode. His wife appears wholly, completely absorbed by the whispery, papery sound of Clay Pelley’s voice. She doesn’t notice that Darren is there. Or perhaps she is aware of his presence and just doesn’t care.

Their daughters are asleep upstairs.

His stomach knots.

Confused, conflicting emotions churn and heave through his chest. He’s loved Maddison Walczak since he can remember. Maybe even since kindergarten. In a kindergartner’s kind of way. Most definitely in a more male, sexual kind of way since he was about twelve. To him Maddison was always the prettiest, smartest, funnest girl around. Even through her popular-girl-ego phase, when she made fun of him, or totally ignored him. Even then, he’d dreamed fervently that Maddy would be his first sexual conquest. That wasn’t to be, but he’d won her hand in the end. She’d finally come around to his hidden charms.

His wife leans forward suddenly and turns up the volume on the speaker.

TRINITY: Why now, Clay? Why’re you telling the world this now? What do you want? Is it because you want to go free? You want to get out of prison now?

CLAYTON: I just want the truth out there. I want everyone to know there is still a killer on the loose who has not paid for what he did.





THEME MUSIC STARTS SOFTLY


TRINITY: So if Clayton Pelley truly did not engage in sexual intercourse with Leena Rai on the night of the Ullr bonfire, why did Maddy Walczak lie? Why did she say she’d seen them having sex?

Maddy hits the STOP button. Sits in silence.

Darren walks into the room. He places his hands on Maddy’s shoulders.

“He’s lying,” Darren says. His wife’s neck muscles feel tight, hard as metal. He starts to massage them, and she sits motionless. He expected her to pull away. But she doesn’t. This is unusual. The anxiety in his chest snakes up into his throat. He feels as though time is folding in on itself as their memories are being sucked back to that day they were called, one by one, into Mr. Pelley’s classroom to be interviewed by Rachel and Detective Luke O’Leary. And then later when they were summoned to the station to make official statements.