Page 112 of The Other Side
“He confessed?” Chance’s brow furrowed as he paced around my room. We’d been in the lounge less and less; it hadn’t provided the same sense of safety and privacy that it had once offered.
“I know. I was surprised too.”
“The Winston I know wouldn’t have confessed. He would have refuted everything. But I also never thought he’d take suchdrastic action to end things.” Chance leaned against the window, peering out into the darkness of the courtyard.
“Jolene told me the police have been by to talk to him a lot in the last week. If he thought they were close to arresting him—I mean, what he did to all those girls—Daniel had all the evidence on his drive. The police had been served everything on a silver platter. They would only need to substantiate it.” I thought aloud. “I could see him deciding to end things instead of living the rest of his life in prison, labeled a predator.”
Chance nodded. “You’re right. But the confession still feels wrong. He was a prick. He wouldn’t have cared about any of those girls, or Daniel. We never could figure out a motive or opportunity for the Marshalls. And nothing about Claire…Maybe we were wrong and it really was an accident…”
“So let’s say he didn’t leave the note or kill himself, or both. What happened then? He’s been our primary suspect this whole time, even though we couldn’t figure out how he’d managed to kill the Marshall girls while he was on a plane.” We were clearly still missing pieces. Or maybe we had all the information we needed, but we couldn’t see clearly.
“If there’s somebody else involved, they’ve been completely off our radar.” Chance sat down on the edge of the bed. “Can we make a list of all the faculty and staff that have been here for everything?”
“It’ll be a long list.” I sighed.
Two weeks later and we still hadn’t gotten anywhere.
Although the Portland Press Herald had somehow gotten ahold of Winston’s confession and published it.
All of it’s true. The girls, the Marshall twins, and the young reporter. I have no other recourse. I’m so sorry to those I have hurt. This world will be better off without me in it. I’m sorry, Janice. You didn’t deserve any of this. None of them did.
The words felt hollow, rather than vindicating. The fact that he hadn’t even mentioned Daniel by name got under Chance’s skin. He hadn’t named a single person other than his wife. After reading the note, I felt more confident than ever that it wasn’t right.
He wasn’t sorry. I didn’t believe him.
Chance had taken leave to attend Daniel’s funeral, after the body was finally returned to his family. I’d wanted to go, to be there with him, knowing he’d have to face his father, who would likely mourn in front of the media, though Chance would know it was a ruse.
But it was because of the media that I couldn’t go. The events at Montgomery had become national news since Winston’s death. Dozens of true crime podcasts and documentaries were no doubt being written as I lay in my bed alone, awaiting Chance’s return.
The one saving grace was that there was only a week until spring break. Before everything had spiraled, I would have begged Chance to stay at Montgomery with me, holed up in the lounge and in bed. But with all the pressure of external forces bearing down on us, the idea of going somewhere, just the two of us, felt like a much-needed reprieve.
So when Amanda had called to offer us her penthouse apartment in New York for the week, as she would be conveniently vacationing in Europe at the same time, I’d put aside my initial reaction to decline any extravagance.
“Think of it as a gift,” she had stated her case before I could dissent. “And if you can’t accept it, then it’s a gift for my brother, and you’re simply his plus-one.”
Hard to argue with that. So I hadn’t.
While Chance was away, I found myself spending more time with Jolene. It felt too lonely in my room without him.
Jolene had been more reserved since finding the headmaster. I couldn’t blame her. It would traumatize anyone. I think she was also having a hard time coming to terms with everything that was emerging about the headmaster. She hadn’t exactly liked him, but she had worked for him for so long, it would have been hard not to have some sort of feelings or connection to him.
Over lunch one day, Jolene seemed ready to talk about everything that had happened, and I was glad to be the shoulder that she could lean on.
“I didn’t want to see it for a long time.” Jolene picked at her food. “But I think maybe I knew something was wrong. Of course I’d heard rumors, and when he was younger, he was good-looking and charismatic.
“He liked having student aides when I first started, but they never did much around here. He hadn’t asked for one for a while though.” Her gaze was clouded, focused over my shoulder, as if recalling a distant memory. “But now all these little things make sense. Now I see him for who he was and what he was doing.
“When the police started coming by more often, I knew something was up, and he did too. Lots of frantic phone calls to all of his buddies to see if someone could pull strings to get him out of it. But it was too big, it was over their heads, the papers had already latched on. I guess he only saw one way out.” She paused and looked at me, observing me for a moment as she prepared to say what came next. “Does it make me a bad person if I’m glad that he’s gone?”
I shook my head. “No. It doesn’t.”
We both ate in silence for a while.
There was a moment, before the headmaster had died, that I wondered if Jolene had perhaps been Daniel’s source. She had the means and the connections to have gotten him in touch with past students.
But talking to her about what had happened, I felt she was being honest about not knowing. And Jolene had always worn her heart on her sleeve. I liked to think I would have known if something was going on with her. Sure, everyone had their secrets, but Jolene was such an open book. I no longer thought it a possibility.
“I’m still sorry you had to find him like that.”
