Listen for the Lie (24 page)

Ben doesn't look particularly concerned about me killing him.

Or surprised, actually.

He cocks his head, his face betraying nothing. “You're thinking about killing me.” It's not so much a question as a calm repeat of what I've just said.

“I do it all the time.” I don't know why I've decided to tell all my secrets to the absolute worst person to confess them to, but here we are. He did say that he wanted the truth from me. This is one I can actually give him. “With everyone. I think about killing them.”

“Like…” He shifts, and then pauses, and I see his gaze flick briefly to the bag by the door, which has the microphone. He wants to ask whether he can record this.

He doesn't. He's good enough at this to know when the answer will be
no
.

“Like intrusive thoughts,” I say. “I can't stop them. I pick a weapon, and I imagine killing people.”

“You pick a weapon.” He speaks slowly.

“Whatever's around. I get creative.”

His lips twitch. Maybe in amusement, maybe in fear. I don't know which one I'm rooting for.

“Which weapon did you choose in here?”

“The glass first.” I point to it. “That wouldn't kill you, though. So, the knife.” I touch my own throat. “Then the lamp.”

“The
lamp
?”

“I'd bash it against your head.”

“I think it's too heavy for you to get enough momentum to do that.”

“I'm not always realistic.”

“Sure.”

“And suffocating you with a pillow. Later. When you're asleep.”

His neutral expression cracks with that one. He takes in a slow breath.

“That one's realistic,” he says, his voice strained.

“Maybe not. You could wake up and fight me off.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

“Depends on how long it takes you to wake up,” I say.

“And how strong you are.” He's staring at me with a look I can't identify, until he shifts slightly in his chair, and I see it. He's turned on.

I stand and walk to him. I hike up my dress as I lower onto his lap, straddling him.

I put both my hands around his neck.

“Or I could just strangle you right now.”

He meets my gaze. His breathing is ragged.

I take one hand off his neck to unzip his pants. I move my underwear to one side. He sucks in a breath as I raise my hips, and then lower them so he slides inside me.

I put both hands around his neck again, squeezing tighter this time.

I lean closer, my lips against his ear. “You took Paige's key back. How long do you think it would be until they discovered your body?”

He makes a strangled noise. I grip harder, grinding my hips against his.

“It would be a good ending, don't you think? Podcaster gets murdered by the woman everyone thought he was going to exonerate?
People would remember you forever. The guy who solved the case, but he got killed while fucking the murderer.”

I lean back to look at him. His chin is tilted back, his face red.

“
Tighter, tighter!
” Savvy cheers.

Ben's body jerks, another strangled noise escaping from his throat. He goes still.

I slowly let go of his neck.

He lets out a whoosh of air. His gaze doesn't leave the ceiling for several seconds as he breathes heavily.

He finally meets my gaze, his face still flushed.

I lean forward. When I speak, my lips brush against his.

“Maybe I'll kill you later tonight.”

He smiles.

Mom is sitting at the kitchen table when I come downstairs the next evening, crutch leaning on the wall beside her. The sun streaks through the back door, but she hasn't turned on a light, so it's dim in the kitchen, her phone screen the only bright spot. Her gaze is downcast, and Ben's voice plays softly from her phone.

She looks up at me and quickly pauses the podcast. I pick up my purse from the hook on the door.

“Where do you go every night?” she asks.

“You don't want to know.”

She presses her lips together and considers that for a moment. She nods.

“You really published three books without telling me?” she asks.

“You've never been good at keeping secrets.”

She lets out a loud, short laugh. I guess that means she disagrees.

“You wouldn't like them anyway,” I say.

“Why not?”

“You're a literary snob. They're not literary.”

She sniffs. “Well, I barely read at all anymore, but I do prefer good literature when I make the time. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“I didn't say there was.” I wanted to say it, though. She squints at me like she knows that.

“You've listened to the episode about Nina?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“You can't do this to that poor woman.” Her voice cracks a little.

“
I'm
not doing anything to her. Ben doesn't consult me about what to put in the podcast.” A lie, but it's true that he's not consulting me about Nina.

“He's implying she did it.”

“He's implied that a lot of people did it. It's irresponsible all around. Nina isn't special.”

“Matt deserved it.” Her tone is harsh, and I'm actually a little touched. I didn't realize she gave a shit. “Your father and I … maybe we deserved it too. And Colin's too dumb to care.”

“Agreed.”

“But Nina doesn't deserve to have her whole life put on display. So what if she didn't like Savvy? The girl they're talking about on that podcast bears little resemblance to the actual woman. She wasn't actually very nice.”

I say nothing to that, because it's true. Savvy was often kind, but she often wasn't. Certainly not in high school.

“Nina's got two kids. A boyfriend, who is a significant upgrade from her ex-husband, who seemed like a real asshole to me. She doesn't deserve this.”

“And
I
do?”

Her gaze shifts to mine. She doesn't need to answer that.

“I can't stop Ben from saying stupid shit on his podcast,” I say. “But just wait an episode or two. He's probably going to end the whole thing by saying he thinks I did it.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

“He's got a whole ending written out summarizing his theory about how I killed her. This is just some … I don't know. He's exploring every angle. Or just trying to get every dime of advertiser money that he can.”

“But he's pointing the finger at Nina anyway?” She looks outraged.

“I like how that's the part that upsets you,” I say dryly.

“Oh Lucy, give me a break,” she snaps. I blink. “Does he have any hard evidence?”

My chest seizes as I consider the possibility. Would he have told me if he did? I doubt it. “I don't … I have no idea. I don't see how he could.”

She blows out a breath. “Okay. Good. That's all that matters. They can't charge you unless he uncovers something new.”

I open my mouth to ask her why she's always been so convinced I did it. I haven't asked in years, and when I did, I bitterly screamed it, so maybe it doesn't count. I didn't actually expect an answer then.

I close my mouth. I don't want one now either. I don't want to know whether she just has a low opinion of me or she actually knows something. Just the thought makes me want to vomit.

I turn and walk quickly out of the house.

Listen for the Lie Podcast with Ben Owens

EPISODE 7—“THE TRUTH ABOUT LUCY”

Ben:
               Matt and Mrs. Harper have mentioned that your father was extremely protective of you right after Savannah's death. He wouldn't let people speak to you without being present. Is that correct?

Lucy:
             Yes. He wouldn't leave the room, even if I asked him to.

Ben:
               Do you know why?

Lucy:
             Yeah. He thought I killed Savvy. He was trying to protect me, I guess.

Ben:
               He said that directly? He thought you killed Savvy?

Lucy:
             Not
exactly
, but it was obvious he thought I did it. He said … Let me try and get it right. He said, “I don't need to know what happened, I just need you to know that I'm on your side.” And he said, “If you suddenly remember anything, do not say a word to anyone until you talk to me.”

Ben:
               What was your reaction to that?

Lucy:
             I was confused and honestly kind of devastated. I didn't understand why he thought I was capable of killing anyone, much less Savvy. On the one hand, it was nice that his first reaction was to protect me, but on the other hand, why wasn't the reaction disbelief? Why didn't he immediately say to me, “I know you could never do this. I know you're not capable of this.” Neither of my parents said that to me.

Ben:
               You're aware that Ivy said your mom acted like she knew what happened a few days after Savannah's death? She said your mom said that she'd make it right.

Lucy:
             I wasn't aware of that until I listened to her interview.

Ben:
               So, you don't know why she would have said that?

Lucy:
             If she knows something, she didn't share it with me.

Ben:
               How about Matt? How did he act after you got home?

Lucy:
             He acted like he was scared of me. He asked me to go to my parents' house.

Ben:
               Can you elaborate? How did he act scared?

Lucy:
             He didn't want to come near me. I remember him standing by the door, this pleading look in his eyes. He looked genuinely frightened.

Ben:
               So both your husband and your parents immediately thought you killed Savannah?

Lucy:
             They never said it directly, but, yes.

Ben:
               What did that do to you? Emotionally, I mean.

Lucy:
             It certainly didn't help.

Ben:
               Can you expand on that?

Lucy:
             What do you want me to say, Ben? It felt like shit.

Ben:
               Do you think it affected your memory?

Lucy:
             How do you mean?

Ben:
               Colin said that you shut down when he went to talk to you, after you created the false memory and he corrected it. He said you stopped trying to remember at all after that.

Lucy:
             I didn't stop—

Ben:
               Have you ever done any sort of memory retrieval therapy?

Lucy:
             No. Those methods are controversial, and they can lead to false memories. I was already creating those. I didn't want any more.

Ben:
               Have you actively done anything to try and remember what happened since just after the murder?

Lucy:
             Like what? I'm in therapy. I've talked about Savvy a lot with my therapist. I think something would come up, if I was going to remember.

Ben:
               Do you think it's possible that you can't remember partly because you don't
want
to remember?

Lucy:
             No, I think it's the head injury.

Ben:
               But all the hours before the head injury. Is it possible that you can't remember because of the trauma of both your parents and your husband immediately deciding you did it?

Lucy:
             Fuck, I don't know. Ask a therapist.

Ben:
               I did. She said yes, it's possible.

Lucy:
             Well, there you have it. Thanks for nothing, Matt. And Mom and Dad.

Ben:
               Do you want to know?

Lucy:
             If I killed Savvy? Of course I want to know.

Ben:
               Are you sure?

Lucy:
             Yes!

Ben:
               Have you visited any of the places where you saw Savannah that day? Your old house? The wedding venue? You and I went to where her body was found near the Byrd Estate, and that was very traumatic for you.

Lucy:
             I haven't, no. I haven't been inside my old house, though I'm sure it looks different now. Same with the wedding venue. They change it for every wedding.

Ben:
               Still … shouldn't you have gone to jog your memory?

Lucy:
             Yes.

Ben:
               Yes?

Lucy:
             Obviously I should have gone. I don't know why I didn't.

Ben:
               Why did you go to the woods where she was found?

Lucy:
             My mom made me.

Ben:
               But nowhere else?

Lucy:
             We talked about going to the wedding venue, but … no. I think I said the same thing back then. It would have been set up differently for a new wedding.

Ben:
               Would it be fair to say that you've stopped trying to remember? That, in fact, you never really tried to remember what happened that night?

Lucy:
             No,
never
isn't accurate. I tried really fucking hard the first couple days.

Ben:
               But after that?

Lucy:
             I guess I stopped trying, yeah. But not because I didn't want to know! Because I thought it was one of those things where if I didn't think about it, it would finally come to me. That's what you're supposed to do when you can't remember, right?