“The neighbor did the triple kill on Forty-Second.”

“And Madden did Pacer.”

“Maybe.” She chews on her bottom lip. Tastes blood and stops.

He snaps his gum. “She confessed. What more do you want?”

She yanks the wheel hard left, the blare of a horn eliciting a curse from David, his hand gripping the center console as the patrol car whips around. She reaches forward and grabs at her cell, her eyes dropping down as she dials a number. “I want the truth.”

CHAPTER 69

Present

MY LITTLE STUNT with Derek got me back in solitary. Just me and my boring breaths. But hell, that is better than staring at his face. Seeing the judgment, hearing the questions, feeling the lies of my past crawling over my skin. You are good, Deanna.

I still need my phone call. I don’t understand the phone call rules. Either making calls is my right or it’s not. Whether or not I had a bout of crazy shouldn’t affect anything. After a hundred years in the room, I move from the bed to the floor. Lie on my back in front of the door and rest my shoes on the metal. Lift a foot and let it drop, the resulting noise a satisfying clang. Lift my other foot and let it drop. Clang. From the next cell, a man yells at me to shut up. I smile. Lift, drop. Lift, drop. I count, one number per foot. Twelve. Twenty-seven. Thirty-eight. At fifty-two, my door opens and Ms. KeepYourHeadDownAndColor looks down at me. “What.”

I prop myself up on my elbows. “I’d like to make a phone call, please.”

She sighs. Looks back over her shoulder for a beat, then looks back down at me. “Okay. Don’t pull any shit.”

I smile and hop to my feet, bouncing lightly on my toes. “I won’t. Promise.”

She points her finger to the ceiling and spins it. I obey, holding my hands behind my back and waiting out the cuffing process.

“You’ll have to hold the phone against your shoulder and have me dial the number.”

“Okay.”

“Try to hit me and I’ll lay your skinny white ass flat on the ground.”

I smile. “Okay.”

“I will.”

“I believe it.”

She huffs in response and swings me around, her hand settling on my shoulder and pushing me forward. We step as two, past three cells, and stop at a pay phone mounted in the wall. Twelve steps, maybe thirteen. I’ve been that close the entire time. I suddenly realize how small this complex is. Less than a dozen cells. Men and women grouped in close proximity. The same dozen officers keeping tabs on us. The jail will be very different. In jail, my outbursts would most likely carry heavier punishments, my requests ignored. In jail, I’ll be one of thousands. In jail, NascarGuy44 will probably look angelic. I feel, waiting next to the phone, my first bit of trepidation. She looks at me. “The call will be collect.”

“That’s fine.”

“Number?”

I tell her Mike’s number, wondering—as I speak it—what call log this will go on, what attention will be brought as a result of this call. No matter, we won’t discuss anything incriminating, but still. In my world with few friends, I like to protect the ones I have.

She finishes dialing and places the phone gently against my ear. I hold it with my shoulder and nod at her. Thank you, I mouth. She looks at me like I’m mental, then pats my back. “The call is recorded,” she says. I nod and watch her step away, her large girth settling into the closest chair.

Mike’s voice comes on quickly, and accepts the charges without hesitation.

“Hey, Dee.”

“Hey, babe.” I smile. Everything changes, everything stays the same.

“What’s up?” God, I love him, giving me normal right now. I turn and try to settle against the wall, a position difficult when my hands are cuffed at the small of my back.

“Jeremy… he—”

“I know. Want an update?”

I close my eyes in gratitude. “Yeah.”

“It’s not good. He’s on a ventilator.”

“But he could wake up?”

“He has a subdural hematoma. It’s a fifty-fifty thing. But if he does wake up, he could slip back under. The hematoma… it’s blood built up around the brain.”

I don’t ask how he knows this. Or how he knew to check on him. I listen to his words and wish I hadn’t asked. Fifty-fifty. “Thanks, Mike.”

“No worries, babe. Just let me know how I can help.”

“Just keep me updated. Also, I need you to keep up Jessica.” Jessica Riley. My online alter ego. Five days ago, she was an Internet sex superstar, yet the Internet is fickle. A few more days, or weeks, or months? She will fade into the black hole of obscurity and be gone forever. And without Jessica, there is just Deanna. Crazy, I’ll-kill-you-before-I-hug-you Deanna.

“You mean status updates, Facebook, that type of thing?”

“And messages on the camsites and in my e-mail. Put an auto-response on. Tell them I have a sick relative and will be away to take care of them.”

“Grandmother, sister… what?”

“Mom. Tell them my mom’s sick.” There is humor in that statement. Ha. Ha. Ha.

“Done. Want me to pull some old files and run some nude shows occasionally?”

“Umm… not now. But I might have you do that later. I’ll let you know.”

“Anything else?”

“That was really it.” I scratch the inside of my wrist. Try to think of something else, a reason to extend this conversation.

“Need bail?”

I smile. “I pled guilty.”

“Yeah, I found that interesting.” I didn’t say anything, just rested the back of my head against the wall. “You don’t belong there, Dee.”

“I did it, Mike.”

He hisses through the line. “This is recorded, Dee.”

“I know. And I’ll tell you the same thing I said in my statement.”

“You don’t have to.” Oh, of course. He’s probably read my statement. Probably has video footage of my questioning. Probably is watching a live feed of me, right now, on the phone with him. I reach down and pick out an imaginary wedgie just to keep him entertained.

“Then you know I belong here. It’s a good thing. I mean…” I falter. “Not about Jeremy. But I need a new place. One more secure than my apartment.”

“No you don’t. You just need a roommate. Or friend.” Or me. I hear it through the empty line. I sigh. “My shrink already preached to me today, Mike. Please don’t pretend I’m something I’m not. I can’t take that from you.”

“I won’t preach at you. But give me one question, then I’ll drop the whole thing.”

I wait. Push on a crack in the tile beneath my feet.

“Think about the possibility, for one minute, that you didn’t do it. That someone else pushed Jeremy out of your window. That someone else stabbed him, then hid his body. Then think of that person walking free. While you are babysat in prison for the next decade.”

I lift my eyes off the tile. “But I did it.” There is an invisible question mark at the end of the sentence.

When he responds, there are thoughtful lines in his voice. “No, I don’t think you did.”

I say nothing.

“Just think about it.”

“Not much else to do here.” The woman makes a hurry it up gesture. “Please stay on top of Jeremy’s progress.”

“I will. And that NASCAR thing… I’ll take care of that.”

I should have known my invisible angel would find out about that. “Thank you.”

“Find the girl I know. Jeremy needs her.”

I watch the woman stand, her wheeze of effort as she straightens her back. Speak quickly, before my voice betrays itself and shakes. “Oh, Mike. You know she never goes far.” I hang up the phone and can feel his smile.

But I did it. Didn’t I?

I wonder, on the walk back to my solitary cell. I wait patiently while my cuffs are undone, then step forward and listen to the door clang shut. Then I lie down, close my eyes, and try my damnedest to remember more, but all I feel is the fight of my mind.