He let go of me, cut the water, and left the shower, coming back with a towel he rubbed through my hair, smoothing my face. “Arms up,” he said, and when I lifted them, he wrapped the towel around me and scooped me to his chest, carrying me out of the bathroom. Over his shoulder I watched the trail of wet footprints. He laid me gently on the bed.
“I’m supposed to sleep on the floor,” I said.
He lay down on the other side, facing me.
“You’re soaking wet.”
He smiled. “So are you.”
His blue shirt was drenched, nearly black. It clung to his chest. His hair hung over his forehead, a bead of water dripping down his temple.
I reached over and brushed the water with my thumb. When I took my hand back, he mirrored me, his hand finding my face and cupping it, his palm the warmest part of me.
“Is it Cal?” he asked.
“No.”
Jamie drew his hand back. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been held like that. I wanted to stay in this bubble, but I knew I needed to tell him the truth. He’d hear the recording soon enough when he sat down to transcribe it.
“I let a man touch me.”
Jamie’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“He was handsome, like Don.”
Jamie didn’t blink.
Suddenly, I wanted to shock him. “In the middle of the party.”
There. He flinched.
“Jamie,” I said. “I terrify myself.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “You’re allowed to like what you like.” The words sat heavy between us. “As long as it makes you…” He took a deep breath. “Feel good, you should let go of the guilt. I’m not saying anything Don did to you was okay, but you have no reason to be ashamed.”
I couldn’t have looked away from him if I’d tried. “I let them demean me, even though I hate them. In my head, I don’t want to. But I keep doing it anyway. I can’t tell if Don brainwashed me, or if I was this way all along, and that’s what made me an easy mark.”
He leaned closer. “They make you feel like a stranger to yourself.”
“Yes.” I adjusted the towel, tugging it higher. When I looked up, Jamie’s eyes were locked carefully on my face.
“Jamie, I want to tell you more about my life.”
He blinked.
“You’re good at stitching people together. All the dead women and their killers in your podcast… You find the clues in their lives. You weave them together until you have a picture of who they were, why they did the things they did. You make it make sense.”
He shifted, pulling his wet jeans from his legs. “You know I’m just guessing, right? When I tell people’s stories, I’m taking an educated stab at a pattern. I could be wrong.”
“That’s the best any of us can do.” The way he was looking at me… I wanted him to touch me again, and I didn’t know if it was for comfort or something else.
“I think I understand now.” His voice lowered. “It’s not just about Laurel. You want to see yourself the way a journalist would. You want perspective. That’s why you’re doing the interviews.”
He must have read the answer in my face. Because after a moment, he said, “Okay, Shay. Show me the pieces.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Transgressions Episode 705, interview transcript: Shay Deroy, Sept. 13, 2022 （unabridged）
SHAY DEROY: The minute I turned twelve, it was like I pressed a button and the machines inside my body started turning. I got my period. My breasts grew—not small like other girls’， but full and round, women’s breasts. Everywhere I went, I kept my arms folded over my chest, trying to hide them.