Page 139 of The Lies I Told
Tuesday, March 22, 2022
Noon
After a long hot shower, I dressed in old sweats and a T-shirt and spent an hour scrubbing all the surfaces covered in fingerprint powder before my body gave out and I had to lie down on the couch for a nap. I wasn’t sure how long I slept, but when I woke, the sun was setting over the river.
A knock at my door had me rising carefully. My body was still stiff, and my gut tender to the touch. At least the hangover from the tequila was fading. I moved to the door and looked out the peephole. Alan.
I undid the locks and opened the door. “Hey.”
His gaze swept over me. “I heard what happened. I know you probably need time, but I had to see you.”
The concern in his voice touched me, and it took a moment before I could speak. “What can I say? Never a dull moment.”
“Are you okay?”
“No, but I will be.”
He held up a bag of burgers and french fries. “Want to come by for dinner? You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”
“I won’t be great company now.”
“You’re many things, Marisa Stockton, but one of them is not boring.”
I laughed and quickly paid for it with a jab of pain. “Sure, burgers sound great.”
Tomorrow, I’d find another meeting, talk about what had happened, and get back to my work and art. My life would go on. There’d be no Clare or Brit. And Jo-Jo, no doubt, would be consumed with Jack’s trial and the baby. She’d saved me, but she’d also lied. If I never saw her again, that would suit me just fine.
I’d cut these people out of my life. I would be okay. I should’ve felt lost and lonely, but I didn’t.
“You did it,” Clare whispered.
No, we did. We did.
54
BRIT
Six Months Later
Tuesday, October 18, 2022
Noon
I’d accepted Jo-Jo’s invitation to meet because I was curious. I didn’t really want to know how she was doing. I didn’t care if she and Jack were dreading his trial. I didn’t care if she was ready to deliver or if she was afraid of the future.
All I wanted to know was whether she’d heard from Marisa. I’d not spoken to my sister in seven months and was very curious. In fact, not knowing how she was doing was a little maddening. Was Marisa sober or was she drinking again? My money was on the booze. All this pressure from the police and media was a recipe for disaster. If the booze hadn’t gotten her yet, it would soon. It always did.
I’d insisted Jo-Jo and I meet at a neutral, discreet location. With Jack’s impending trial, the last thing I needed was to be seen with his wife. I should’ve said no to her request, but curiosity is deadly powerful.
My phone led me to the address she’d given me. It was in Hanover County on a rural stretch of road. Off the beaten path, as requested.
Dust kicked up around my car as I rolled down the long gravel driveway. I parked at the top portion in front of a two-story, newly constructed craftsman-style home. I checked my phone and switched on the recording app. (Never can be too careful.)
This place was well crafted, and I wondered if Jack had taken some of that cash he’d had tucked away and built this house. He always wanted a large home filled with children.
Climbing the stairs, I rang the bell and was quickly rewarded with the steadythudof lumbering feet. When the door opened, my gaze was immediately drawn to Jo-Jo’s round face and her very full belly. She looked bloated and pale, and there was no sign of the glow women in her state professed to have.
“Brit, thanks for coming.” Her voice echoed in the empty foyer.
