Page 21 of The Lies I Told
Another year. Another year of freedom for a killer. More missed opportunities to collect perishable evidence. “The new cop won’t have the history or interest in the case like you did.”
He drew in a breath. His chair squeaked as he leaned forward. “I can’t give you the files.”
I sat silent, perched on the edge of my seat, my fingers still gripping the strap of my camera bag. “What about a copy of your notes? I remember you wrote down everything I said when you interviewed me. You always had that big folio in your hand.”
He regarded me but, instead of answering, shifted to another topic. “Tell me about your car accident.”
“What’s there to say?”
“Paramedics thought you had drugs in your system.”
“You’re keeping tabs on me?”
“Everyone here knows I care about your sister’s case and you’d visited about eighteen months ago. I received a call from the officer who responded to your scene.”
I’d thought Clare’s case and my visits had dangled at the very end of this department’s priority list. It hadn’t occurred to me I was on anyone’s radar other than Richards’s. “I don’t know why they made that assessment. I didn’t take anything.”
He said nothing, didn’t arch a brow, smirk, or cock his head. Reading his expressions had always been a challenge. He played his cards very close to the vest.
Still, I felt his disappointment. “You’ve heard I lost about ten days’ worth of memories, right?”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I still don’t know what happened during the days leading up to the accident, but I know I wasn’t using. I’ve been totally clean for a year.”
“Slips happen, Marisa. It’s fairly common, in fact. No harm, no foul. Looks like you’re back on the wagon.”
“I never fell off of it,” I said clearly.
“Why’re you so special?”
“I’m not. But I know right before the missing days, I was committed to my upcoming show. I was excited about work, life. It’d been a long time since I’d felt that good.”
“The pictures in your art show focused on the spot where Clare’s body was found. That’s working shit out in my book. Digging into an old wound.”
“I thought taking the pictures would tell me something I’d never seen before. I hoped something would reach out to me or someone else who knew something but hadn’t come forward would.”
“Have they done that?”
“Not yet.”
“The earth generally guards secrets closely.”
“Yes, it does.”
“Maybe you were playing with fire, and revisiting that time got to be too much for you. You swallowed a pill in a moment of weakness. It happens.”
“You sound like Brit. My sister has been walking on eggshells around me since. It’s like she’s afraid to say Clare’s name for fear I’ll lose my shit. I’m amazed she hasn’t done surprise urine tests.”
The corner of his lips tilted in an almost smile. “Are you going to meetings?”
“Last one was three days ago. I’ll hit another one in the next few days.”
“Good. Keep working the program.”
“Yeah. I hear you.” I leaned forward, grateful to have one person I could speak candidly to about Clare’s death. “It’s so wrong, you know? That someone could do what they did and just get away with it. So wrong.”
Richards unknitted his fingers and rested them on the chair’s armrest. “I know.”
