He would know. The one he used as his murder weapon was a 1970 Plymouth Barracuda—a vehicle described by one website as a “head-turner that could break necks.”
“Yeah,” I say, but the way his grip constricts means he’s aware that I’m distracted. “I wanted you to know before anyone else. I’m meeting with the police tomorrow, and—” I pull my hands away from his. “I’ve decided to tell them the truth.”
Two little furrows form in his brow. “About?”
“Who I am. What happened to me. Audrey found out; that’s why she came to the lodge. It’s only a matter of time before the public learns that she isn’t your only surviving victim.”
Tom actually looks hurt by that. “You’re not a victim.”
“You drugged me, Tom. Then, you locked me in a shack, and if I hadn’t consented to my own murder—which was super fucked-up, bythe way—you would’ve run me over the same way you did all those other girls.”
“You’re nothing like those other girls.”
It’s strange how his words still send a little thrill through me. Who doesn’t want to be special? Who doesn’t want to be the heroine of her very own fairy tale? Tom Woods kept me locked in that cabin, like a princess in a tower, but that was fine because I was going to change him. And for a long time, he led me to believe that’s what I’d done.
But the truth is, Tom never changed. Real life’s not a fairy tale.
I’m just like all those other girls.
“You’re wrong,” I say. “We were all there to prop you up, to help you relive your trauma over and over again. We were all stand-ins for your daughter—”
“Don’t.” Tom puts both feet on the floor and leans forward—the closest he can get to a threat in a maximum-security prison. “Don’t bring her up.”
“I’m not here to argue. I’m here to give notice: I won’t be representing you anymore, but the attorney taking over the case will be caught up on everything regarding your hearing.”
“What do you mean, you won’t be representing me anymore?”
“I can’t, because I’ll be making a victim impact statement. However, you should know that as my position on the death penalty hasn’t changed, I’ll still be encouraging the Board to commute your sentence to life without parole.” I stand, fix the front of my jacket. “Honestly, this should be good for you—having your last surviving victim say she wants you kept alive.”
Tom runs his fingers through his hair. One strand comes loose and falls into his eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m serious, Tom.”
“But everything I’ve done—” He reaches across the table again,except this time, there’s nothing for him to hold on to. “Everything I’ve done has been for you.”
I rest my hands on the back of the chair. “I will always be thankful for how much you believed in me. Before I met you, my wildest dream was to graduate from community college, maybe have my own rent-controlled apartment. Now, I have a degree from law school and multiple houses. One of them even has a swimming pool. That’s crazy to me.”
“You deserve it. All that and so much more.”
He smiles, and I feel my resolve start to crumble. I grip the chair harder. “Thanks. But none of that changes the fact that we’re not good for each other. I’ve never learned to stand on my own, and you—well, you’ve never moved past what happened with your daughter. That’s why we can’t see each other anymore.”
His mouth falls open. It takes him a moment to gather himself and repeat the words back to me. “We can’t see each other anymore.”
“We’re keeping each other trapped, Tom.”
“No one’s keeping you trapped. I’m the one locked up in here; you’re free to come and go whenever you want—”
“Yes,” I tell him. “I’m choosing to go.”
For as much as it’s my decision, a little part of me crumples up, a slip of paper tossed into the bonfire, when I turn my back on him and head toward the door. It’s never easy to leave someone you love, even when you know it’s for the best. I raise my hand to knock and alert the guard.
“You know,” he says, “there’s interest from detectives in arranging another bones-for-time agreement.”
“We’ve done three of those. They already know where all the bodies are buried.”
“Not all of them.”
It takes me a moment to figure out what he’s talking about, butwhen I do, it feels like I’m falling through the sky again, except this time, there’s no net to catch me.
