I loved you more than anything. The words went around in Beth’s head as she stood there.
Within an hour, Mariana was dead. Lily didn’t call or come home, and Beth was completely alone.
“Sometimes I think it was me who killed her,” Beth said now, twisting the knife into her half sister. “But then, she wouldn’t have mixed the pills with the alcohol if you hadn’t told her she failed you. That you hated her.”
“That’s a lie,” Lily said.
“Tell yourself that if you want.” Beth’s hand on the receiver was slick with cold sweat. “You’re the crazy one, not me.”
“Does it make you feel better to think of me as crazy?” Lily’s voice was sharp. “Does it make you feel smug? Are you sure you’re the sane one, Beth?”
It was so hypnotic, that voice. So convincing. Beth rubbed her forehead. Yes, she was the sane one. She had never killed anyone. Except Mariana, that night she stood and watched her leave.
Except everyone who came after, because she didn’t stop Lily when she’d had the chance.
“How long was it before you knew she was dead?” Beth asked. “You were gone. When did you finally know?”
There was another brief pause, and then Lily gave her the truth for once. “Three months. But part of me knew. I’d been living like she was already dead. Then I looked for her obituary in old copies of the paper, and I found it. I knew. That’s why I’d started looking at obituaries.”
For one moment, crackling over the phone line from jail, Beth felt her own pain and her sister’s pain mix together. It was still so raw, even now. Mariana, for all her faults, had been the only thing that both of them had ever wanted. Had they loved her? Did either of them even know what love was? For that matter, had Mariana ever known?
Yes, Mariana had known what love was. I loved you more than anything.
Did Beth love Lily? Maybe. But her feelings for Lily were too much like her feelings toward herself. Hate, pity, fear—and anger. So much anger.
And Lily . . . She wasn’t sure Lily knew how to love anyone.
Still, she opened her mouth to speak. Our mother is still in the house, she wanted to tell her sister. I hear her sometimes. She wants to open the bedroom door. Maybe Beth was the crazy one. Still, it was possible Lily would understand.
But Lily spoke first. “It’s your fault,” she said, and the moment of shared grief was over as she brought out her old weapons, anger and blame. “You let her die that night. You know you did.”
Beth went cold, and she put her confession away. “I’m going to get out of here. You know that, right?”
“You probably will. You weasel out of everything bad. You always have. I suppose I should say sorry that they arrested you instead of me, but I’m not sorry at all. It’s nice to see you suffer for once.”
Beth knew that tone. Lily was feeling victorious, untouchable. This was when she was at her weakest. “When I get out, I’m giving you enough money to go away forever. And then we’re never seeing each other again.”
Now Lily sounded interested. “I’m finally getting my half?”
“Anything,” Beth said, a note of desperation in her voice. “Anything you want. Anything to end this.”
“Then get out quick, dummy. I’m waiting.”
“When I get out, how do I find you?”
“You don’t,” Lily said. “I’ll find you.”
When Beth stood to go back to her cell, she knew her expression was hard. She knew the guard was watching her, that she’d go home and tell her husband that Beth Greer, the infamous Lady Killer, was the coldest woman she’d ever seen. She knew that in some ways, even if she won this game with Lily, she was damaged forever.