We Told Six Lies(33)

She stands and offers her hand.

I consider not shaking it, but in the end, I do.

She holds on a bit too tight, looks in my eyes a beat too long, and so it’s me who ends up pulling away. I back up a step and stare at her, my heart beating in a strange new way. I look down, then turn and walk away, feeling sick in a way I can’t fully explain. I don’t like the way she looked at me just now. The detectives were covering their bases when they brought me in the first time, but this felt like…this felt like suspicion.

As I push through the glass door, I find myself thinking of the way my brother looked at me with that same level of uncertainty. I think of the way Nixon looked at me when he said, The way you were shaking her. I think of the way the kids look at me at school every day.

Their faces, their words—it makes me squirm. Makes me uneasy. But I have no idea why.

Because I have nothing to hide.





MOLLY


Molly discovered Blue’s weakness—his desire to feel needed—and she nursed it every chance she got.

How long had she been there? Four days? Five? Long enough for him to bring more dresses. More flowers. Food, sometimes ripe, sometimes half rotten.

She thanked him for it all.

And she took an interest in him.

She was careful with her requests because she knew she could only make so many. He wanted to feel needed, yes, but also sought control. So first, she’d asked for the water. The next time, she asked for him to visit her at night.

He’d made a strange sound when she’d asked this, but she was quick to clarify that she just wanted someone to talk to.

“I’ll go crazy if you leave me alone,” she’d said when he didn’t come for two days after their night in the kitchen. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

In truth, Molly wanted to be as far away from him as possible. But she was afraid he’d panic and leave her down there to die. He may not have wanted to kill her, or even hurt her, but maybe he could convince himself to simply walk away. It’d be easy, she knew.

If she was to gain his trust, she had to keep them interacting. So she asked for him to visit. And he had. This was the third night he’d come, and so she sat on her bed, cross-legged and ready.

She wore another oversize dress—this one a short sundress she shivered in—but she’d let him see all of her in it. When she heard him descending the stairs, she slipped a strap off her shoulder. Flipped her hair over the other. Bit her lips to bring color to them.

Molly knew what she was risking by drawing him to her, but if he wanted to do that to her, he would do it regardless of what she did. Go ahead, she thought to herself. Come close. Unbutton your pants. Lower your guard, Blue.

I’ll destroy you in the end.

“I hear you,” she said.

Blue made a sound, and Molly imagined him sitting on the bottom step. It’s what he’d done the last two nights. He didn’t show himself to her often. She figured it was because she knew him. But maybe it really was that he didn’t want to get caught should he ever decide to let her go.

“This dress is getting dirty,” she said. “I’d like to change.”

It was the only time he removed her wrist restraints. He’d stand inside the bathroom and wait, not looking out even once. She’d have to yell that she was done in order for him to come out again.

Once, while she changed, she’d studied his turned back. He was broad in his winter jacket. Much taller than she was, with large hands. Yes, she’d seen his hands ungloved. Seen his dirtied fingernails. Did she recognize them? She wasn’t sure. But she knew if she got out of here, she’d memorize every part of every person who ever crossed her path again.

When she got out of here.

Not if.

When Blue didn’t respond, she swallowed and said, “I’d like to sing a song.”

She could almost hear him sit up straighter.

“It’s called Alice Blue Gown. Have you heard it?”

He didn’t respond.

“If you don’t want me to sing—”

He hit the door.

She smiled triumphantly. “Okay, then.”

Molly planted her feet firmly on the floor and stood. She faced the window in the bathroom, opened her mouth, and began to sing the lyrics.

I once had a gown, it was almost new, Oh, the daintiest thing, it was sweet Alice blue, With little forget-me-nots placed here and there, When I had it on, oh, I walked on the air!

And it wore, and it wore, and it wore, ’Til it went, and it wasn’t no more.

She sang on, repeating the words to the old songs her mom used to play, back when they were a different family. When people said, “Yes, ma’am,” and, “Right away, ma’am.” Now, they said, “When will you pay us? Where is our money?” and “Who do you think you are?”

Molly lost herself to the lyrics. No, she pretended to lose herself to the lyrics. She raised her head and sent her words dancing in the moonlight, and when she heard him rise from the floor and peek through the door, she forced two tears to squeeze from her eyes and spill down her cheeks.

He watched her.

And she became someone worth watching because his eyes were on her.

When she finished, she turned toward the door. He dashed out of sight, and she heard the sound of stairs as he started to take them.