Everyone Here Is Lying(66)

She’s not going to recant her statement to the police. Not now. Not ever. Poor little Avery.

Little fool.



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? ? ?

Ryan Blanchard hears a commotion coming his way. He stares catatonically at the painted concrete of the cell wall in front of him.

An officer is hauling a drunk, angry man down to the cells.

“Get your fuckin’ hands off me,” the drunk shouts.

“That’s enough,” the officer says.

Ryan is suddenly fearful that the officer will put the belligerent drunk in the cell with him. But he marches him past and puts him in the empty cell next door, where the man continues to curse in a loud, slurring voice. Ryan exhales in relief. But then he realizes that this is nothing. Real prison will be much worse.

They’ve taken everything away from him—including his shoelaces—so that he has nothing to kill himself with. But maybe there’s a way.

They think he killed a child. He’s afraid his lawyer thinks so, too, and he doesn’t know what his mom and dad think. He’s too frightened to cry anymore.



* * *



? ? ?

    It’s late. The night is clear and cold, and the crescent moon is crisp in the inky black sky. Al doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting in his freezing car behind the dumpster, thinking about killing his wife. He knows how he’ll do it. With his bare hands. He knows what he’ll do with her body. He knows she’s at home, alone. She won’t be able to fight him off. When it’s done, he’ll take her body through the kitchen and put her in the trunk of the car. The car will be in the garage with the garage door closed. Funny how so many of these houses have a garage attached to the house, he thinks—it makes it so easy to remove a body without anyone seeing. And then he’ll bring her here. Someone might see him taking her out of the trunk and lifting her into the dumpster—that’s a risk. He’s not even going to wrap her in a blanket. He’s not sure how he’ll get away with it; he’s not thinking that far ahead. And he doesn’t really care. Everything’s gone completely to hell anyway. He thinks about what his wife said, how she thinks he’s a child killer. He could never harm an innocent child. But he could strangle his wife.

Maybe she saw something in him that he hadn’t even realized was there.

He turns the key in the ignition with a shaking hand and starts the car. He pulls the car out from behind the dumpster and drives around to the front of the motel. He means to take the exit onto the highway, back to Stanhope and his adulterous wife, but instead he finds himself slamming on the brakes, suddenly unable to breathe. He pulls into an empty parking spot. His entire body is shaking.

He sits in the car, trembling like a leaf. What was he thinking? He can’t kill his wife. He’s losing his mind. He got carried away with a fantasy.

He pushes open the car door, walks across the pavement to the flashing neon sign indicating the office of the motel, and requests a room. As he pays and gets the key—his hands still shaking—he realizes that the bored woman behind the counter has no idea what’s been running through his disordered mind. He almost wants to warn her about people. People like him.



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? ? ?

Avery moves restlessly around the small basement bedroom, impatient and frustrated. It’s been harder than she expected to stay hidden for all this time. Marion went out ages ago—how long does it take to tell the police you lied?

She nurses her feelings of rage and betrayal. Marion had gone behind her back and called about Ryan anonymously, never expecting Avery to find out.

Avery paces around the bedroom. She’s so angry at Marion. Maybe she will change her story. Maybe she should say that she was held captive in this basement against her will, and that she escaped from Marion. After all, there’s a reason Marion lied to the police—she had it out for Nora Blanchard all along. She could say Marion kidnapped her and kept her in the basement so that she could accuse Nora’s son. She could tell them that she came over for cookies and sympathy that afternoon, like she’d done in the past, and that Marion lured her into the basement, knocked her out with something, and then kept her prisoner in the basement bedroom. It’s so obvious that Marion is jealous of the beautiful Nora Blanchard. Marion is in love with her father. It all fits. She can make it work. And no one is aware that she and Marion even know each other. Avery could even say that Marion was planning this all along, inviting her in for cookies throughout the summer and asking her questions about her father, just waiting for the right moment.

It’s a much better story than the one she was going to use.

She paces the small bedroom, around the three sides of the bed, over and over.

But what if Marion tells the truth and says the “kidnapping” was all Avery’s idea? She gives that careful thought. She doesn’t think anyone would believe it. What nine-year-old child would do such a thing? And they’ll know that Marion lied about Ryan because she never got into his stupid car. They’ll believe Avery, not Marion—especially when Avery tells them that Marion is crazy about her dad and jealous of Nora. She’ll say she was frightened for her life. She doesn’t care what happens to Marion. Marion betrayed her.

She could leave right now, while Marion is out. Maybe she should.