“And how long after that did you come out here?”
“I don’t remember exactly. A couple days, maybe.”
“What was that like for you? To visit the scene again, I mean.”
I bite back my first response—It was a fucking party, Ben, what do you think? I’m Podcast Lucy right now. Innocent people don’t make sarcastic comments.
“Innocent people don’t plot to kill their husbands.” That wasn’t Savvy. She never said that. But I hear the words in her voice anyway.
“It was rough,” I say.
He nods and is quiet for several moments.
“What about before? You’re a runner, right? Did you ever come out here for a run? That trail is nearby.”
I don’t know how he knows that I’m a runner, but it’s entirely possible that Ben knows more about me than I know about myself at this point.
“I didn’t start running until a few years ago. And I hate running outside, so, no. I’d never come out here for a run. Especially not in this heat.” A bug dive-bombs my face, and I barely stop myself from screaming a curse. I flap my hand in front of my face a little too vigorously. I look as crazy as I feel.
“But you knew about the trail, right?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s not a big town, and the sign for the trail is right off the road. I passed it a million times.”
We’re still walking, and I realize I don’t know exactly where Savvy’s body was found. Everything looks the same out here. Just a dirt path looping through identical trees.
Would an innocent person have remembered? Maybe an innocent person would have come out here every day, desperately searching for the memory. I visited twice and dissolved into hysterics both times.
I can actually sort of see Mom’s point, now that I think about it.
I catch Ben staring again, eyebrows drawn together. He must know where Savvy’s body was found. He would have planned all this out beforehand—the route, the questions. Maybe he even practiced that concerned look he keeps giving me.
He points. “It’s right up here.”
I wonder whether he read the expression on my face. The thought makes me uncomfortable. I turn away from him.
My heart is thumping too loud in my ears and sweat is pouring down my back. It’s not even that hot today, by Texas standards. I feel a little dizzy.
I spot flowers in a small pink vase in front of a tree and I stop. Yellow roses. Savvy’s favorite.
“Her mom comes out here regularly,” Ben explains, noticing my gaze. I nod mutely.
There’s no evidence of where Savvy was found, of course—it’s been too long—but I remember now. The police showed me photos of the body, half-covered in dirt, her dress ripped in several places.
I stared at the torn strap of her dress, hanging on by a thread. I knew how that happened. I knew, but I couldn’t remember.
Or I just wanted to remember so badly that I tried to create a memory. Hard to say now.
“Are you okay?” Ben asks.
“Yeah.”
“Does being out here make you feel any particular way?”
I stare at him. Marvel at the stupid question.
“You’ve seemed out of sorts since we got out of the car. Is it hard for you to be out here, at the spot where she died?”
“Of—of course it’s hard.” I take a breath, but it doesn’t help.
Savvy appears behind him. She’s in a short black dress that she wore often—cotton, casual, clinging to her body in a way that made everyone take a second glance. She grins as she mimes strangling him. I blink and she’s gone.
I need to get out of here. My mind is swimming, and I can’t be Podcast Lucy when I can’t think straight. I might say something awful or dumb or—
This is not how innocent people act.
“Can you talk about why it’s so upsetting for you to be out here? Is it just because it’s the spot where Savvy died, or does it bring up other memories as well?”
A bead of sweat rolls down the side of my face. It’s too hot to breathe. The air is thick and horrible.
The edges of my vision go black. My legs go numb. There’s a loud buzzing in my ear and I don’t know whether it’s all the goddamn bugs or that my brain has given up. I wouldn’t blame my brain cells for peacing out. I’m surprised they made it this long.
“Oh shit.” Ben’s voice sounds far away, but when I sway, I hit him instead of the ground.
He slows my fall but we both still end up in the dirt. I don’t think he’s caught very many swooning ladies. He’s not very good at it.