We Told Six Lies(70)

Saliva pools in my mouth as I fight nausea.

The driver is wearing a baseball cap. He looks at Molly’s car, and then at the doors to the convenience store.

He’s waiting for her.

This prick is waiting for my girlfriend.

Molly appears from the store carrying something. I narrow my eyes to figure out what it is. For some reason, I feel like if I don’t know what she’s carrying, then nothing that happens next will make sense. Maybe it’s something Molly would never buy. Maybe it’s something for this guy in the van.

The bag is yellow.

It’s peanut M&Ms.

When I realize this, I have to squeeze my eyes shut. I shake with anxiety, my teeth chattering inside my head. When I first met Molly, I figured she must not eat much. How else could she look so skeletal? But the truth was Molly ate more than any human being her size ever should—hot dogs, chili cheese fries, root beer floats, mozzarella sticks, buttered popcorn, pork tacos, fried chicken salads with extra ranch dressing. Anything and everything I ate, and sometimes more.

After every meal, no matter how far we had to walk to get them, she’d demand peanut M&Ms.

She opens the bag as she walks to her car. Tears the end off and, as I almost smile because I know it’s coming, sticks it into her back pocket.

The guy gets out of the van.

I grip the tablet tighter and pull it so close to my face that my eyes water trying to take in all the tiny details the grainy footage doesn’t show. I want to scream for Molly to run back inside. For her to pay attention. But she rounds the van anyway, and a second later, the guy walks after her. I hold my breath hoping this plays out differently, knowing it won’t. I stare at the screen, willing Molly to appear again. Hoping to see her kissing this guy because that’s better than the alternative.

But neither of those things happens. What does happen is Molly disappears from view, and then there is only the guy, holding the bag of M&Ms up to his mouth. And that’s where the scene freezes. Detective Hernandez reaches over and taps the screen once, twice, and then the guy’s face is right there, and it’s like staring into a fucking mirror.

This guy, he looks just like me.

This guy, he is built just like me.

This guy…he is me. And there’s no possibility left that exists that says I didn’t have something to do with Molly disappearing.

“Did you move her car afterward?” Detective Hernandez asks, and I can tell she’s upset they don’t have that footage.

“Since we’ve had a tail on you,” Detective Tehrani says, “and you haven’t once visited a place she might be, we have to assume she’s dead.”

“You what?” I say. “Dead?”

“There’s some evidence,” Detective Hernandez interjects, “that leads us to believe we’re looking for…” She hesitates. “Cobain, we’re going to provide a court-appointed attorney for you, but if you wish, you can speak to us now. You can tell us where Molly is, so we can go and find her.”

Green trees.

Blue water.

White dog.

Black crow.

Pressure.

Pressure.

Detective Hernandez lowers her voice, but that doesn’t hide the sliver of hopefulness in her voice. “Cobain, is Molly still alive? Just tell us that. Detective Tehrani and I have been led to believe she’s not, but perhaps she’s just hurt somewhere. Or maybe she’s okay, but you couldn’t face being around her. Could you just tell us—”

A girl opens the door to our room, and I run.

I don’t plan anything besides using my size to sledgehammer my way out of here.

I slam into the girl that opened the door, and she falls to the ground. I want to apologize and give her a hand up, but it’s better I don’t touch her. It’s better that I don’t touch anyone ever again. But I can touch this gun.

I grab the gun from an officer crossing my path. He’s got his hands on a perpetrator, and now I’ve got my hands on his weapon. I point it at him. Flick my hand toward the door.

“Open it,” I instruct, feeling like an imposter. My hands sweat, and my arms shake, and I’m terrified I’ll drop the gun and it’ll go off.

The officer raises his hands and says calmly, “Don’t hurt anyone, okay?”

He walks to the door and swipes a card so that it opens.

“Give me the gun back before you go,” he asks, and I’ve got to give him credit for trying.

There’s a woman inside the lobby with a red-faced kid. She’s demanding to see her boyfriend, but when she sees me, she picks up the kid and jumps back. I want to stop and assure her I’m not dangerous. But that’s not true, now is it? I thought I wasn’t a threat to anyone, especially Molly. I believed it until the very end.

But I was wrong.

I push through the glass doors and pass two officers, point my gun in their direction, and holler, “Get down now!”

Arms raised.

Stomachs touching the ground.

Not even a second of hesitation.

I imagine they have wives at home that need their husbands. Chubby-cheeked babies that can’t lose their daddies.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and start running.

I cross an intersection and hop over a fence. I don’t know where I’m going.

Sure I do.