Listen for the Lie (18 page)

I wake early, before the sun. Ben is asleep beside me on his stomach, his hair disheveled and falling across his eyes. My head hurts.

I sit up slowly. I'm in his bed, naked, because after having sex on the couch he pulled me into his bedroom and we had sex in here too.

An image of me smothering him with a pillow flashes across my vision. That's pretty standard for me waking up with men. It would be so easy to kill a sleeping man.

“
I still vote strangulation for this one
,” Savvy whispers. I shake the voice away.

I find my dress on the floor, and my underwear in the living room. It's ripped, so I toss it in the trash on my way out.

I'm outside before I remember that my car is still at the bar. I debate calling the one Uber driver, but he's probably asleep, and it's only about a mile down the road. I start down the sidewalk, hoping a strong breeze doesn't blow up my dress and expose my ass to the world.

It's hot, even just before sunrise, and sweat trickles down my back as I walk.

I wasn't nearly drunk enough last night to blame my choices on the alcohol, which was honestly shit planning on my part. Should have gotten wasted. Then at least I'd have an excuse.

But, no excuses. We didn't even use a condom, which is really just the icing on my bad-decision cake. I've had an IUD for years, so there are no smug babies in my immediate future, but who knows where Ben has been sticking that thing. He fucks like he gets around.

A little podcast souvenir. I should get a T-shirt:
I was the subject of a true crime podcast and all I got was this T-shirt and gonorrhea
.

My car is still, thankfully, in the parking lot, and I drive home to a dark, quiet house.

I walk upstairs and close my door softly, change my clothes, and climb into bed. Early morning sun is filtering in through the blinds, and there's a text from Ben on my phone. I ignore it and close my eyes.

My headache is gone when I wake the second time, and I'm starving now. I trudge downstairs. No sign of Mom, which is a relief. I don't need to add that to my hangover. I smear some cream cheese on a bagel and then hurry back upstairs.

There are more texts from Ben on my phone.

Hey. Did you get home okay?

You could have woken me up.

Seriously, just text me so I know you're not dead.

I perch on the edge of my bed, take a bite of my bagel, and text him back.

I'm not dead. I got home fine.

My phone rings immediately. Way to play it cool, Ben.

I swipe to answer it. “Hey.”

“It's rude to leave a guy in bed, you know.”

“Is it?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Do you usually sleep with the murder suspect of your podcast?”

“The suspect in season one was a man.”

“Is that a no?”

“It's a no.” He sounds amused.

“Do you usually forget the condom?”

“No. Uh, I'm sorry about that, I don't—”

“It's fine, that's my fault too. I have birth control covered, I was just sort of hoping you hadn't been raw-doggin' it all over Los Angeles.”

He lets out a short, startled laugh. “I have not been raw-doggin' it all over Los Angeles. Or anywhere. Usually.”

Just with me, then. I don't know whether I feel special or insulted.

“I feel like your podcaster ethics have really gone to shit here, Ben.” I mean it as a criticism, but he laughs.

“Whatever. No one ever accused me of making good decisions.”

“
Questionable ethics, but you can't argue with the results!”
The words I read about Ben a couple of weeks ago float through my mind, and I have to work not to laugh. No one can say I wasn't warned.

In truth, no one ever accused me of making good decisions either.

“You want to get breakfast?” he asks. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“I need to write. Talk to me now.”

He pauses, and then clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Okay. So, I'm putting together a bonus episode for tomorrow with the stuff I recorded with Matt yesterday. I want to send it to you first and let you veto it.”

Veto
it? I had sex with the man two times and I'm now apparently in charge of the podcast. I'm either proud of myself or horrified. Hard to say.

“Why do I get to do that?”

“Because it includes an interview that makes me uncomfortable. I'll cut it if you ask me to.”

“Who's the interview with?”

“Maya Harper.”

My stomach clenches the way it always does when someone mentions Maya. Savvy's little sister.

“Send me the interview.”

Listen for the Lie Podcast with Ben Owens

MAYA'S INTERVIEW UNEDITED SEGMENT

Hello, friends. I'm back, earlier than expected, because something happened last night. I met Lucy at a local bar—which you all know already, because you've seen the pictures on Twitter. Yes, we were having a drink, and no, it's not nearly as scandalous as you all seem to think it is.

As we were leaving the bar, Matt pulled into the parking lot and got out of his car. Here's what happened.

[
scuffling noises
]

“Hello, Matt.”

“You son of a bitch, I should wring your neck.”

[
scuffling, grunting
]

That sound you hear? That's Matt punching me in the face.

“I am going to sue you for every penny you're worth.”

“I'll give you my lawyer's number. Can you take your hands off me, please?”

[
banging noise
]

Matt slams me into the car here.

“Matt!”

That's Lucy. She's standing nearby as this happens.

“Beverly is a [inaudible], and that one is a fucking liar!”

“
That one
” refers to Lucy here, because he points at her.

That's the general consensus, right? Lucy is lying. Lucy is hiding something.

Well, we've already established that Matt is lying too—he wasn't at home the night Savannah died, even though he told police that he was.

And Kyle Porter suggested on this podcast that something might have been going on between Savannah and Matt. Savannah's younger sister, Maya Harper, gave me a piece of her mind about that.

Maya:
             Savvy never slept with Matt. It's bullshit that Kyle said that, and it's bullshit that you put it on your podcast.

Ben:
               Okay. Can you tell me more about that?

Maya:
             About how you're an asshole?

Ben:
               About why you think it's bullshit that Savvy slept with Matt.

Maya:
             She hated Matt. The first time she told me about Lucy, she
said all this nice stuff about her and then goes, “And she's married to this total dipshit who kept looking at my boobs when I talked.”

Ben:
               And her opinion of Matt didn't change over the next couple years?

Maya:
             Nope. But even if it had, she never would have slept with her friend's husband. She wasn't like that. Savvy loved Lucy, and she never would have hurt her.

Ben:
               What makes you think that Savvy never warmed up to Matt? She talked to you about him?

Maya:
             She said some things. She'd mention him offhand occasionally, like, “She couldn't get rid of Matt, so I had to have dinner with him too.” Stuff like that. And she … well, this is just my interpretation, but I think Savvy thought that something was going on with Lucy and Matt.

Ben:
               Going on?

Maya:
             Like … something abusive? I don't know. Maybe I got it wrong. But not long before she died, we were watching this show together, and there was a story line about an abusive husband. And I looked over at one point and she was rolling her eyes, and I was like, “What?” She said that they were portraying the guy to be this total monster, and that wasn't what those guys are usually like.

And I got kind of concerned, and I was like, “How do you know what those guys are like?” And she goes, “Oh, not me, not me. But I know someone. And the guy … a lot of people like him.”

I didn't ask if it was Lucy. But it had to be. Savvy wasn't close friends with anyone else at that point. And she said
know
, not
knew
. “I
know
someone.” I'd always wondered why Savvy had this, like, burning hatred of Matt when everyone else seemed to love him. It made sense suddenly.

I text Ben when I finish listening.

Can you cut out everything she says after "Savvy loved Lucy, and she never would have hurt her"?

I walk downstairs to toss the rest of my bagel in the trash as I wait nervously for him to reply. It comes as I'm walking back up the stairs.

Yes. No problem.

I blow out a breath. My hands are shaking a little.

Out of curiosity, do you want me to cut it because it's not true, or because it is?

I stare at the question for a long time before typing a response.

The truth doesn't matter.

Maya Harper doesn't live in Plumpton, and I wish I had better things to do than take a five-hour round-trip drive to Austin to see Savvy's sister, but I don't. So I go.

I don't tell her I'm coming, because she hates me and will probably call the cops. Ambushing her so that I have at least fifteen minutes before the cops arrive seems like the best option.

I have no idea where she lives, and even if Ben does, I can't bring myself to ask him. I don't want him to know that I'm going to see her. He already knows too much.

But I do know where Maya works. She's an assistant at an accounting firm, which has their hours listed on their website. They're in a half-empty strip mall between an employment agency and an empty storefront with a
For Rent
sign in the grimy window. I park my car at the back of the small lot by four thirty and wait.

“
He fucking deserved it
,” Savvy sings in my ear.

I close my eyes, my heart pounding. I don't want to think about this, but I'm sitting here waiting for the only other person in the world who knows Savvy's darkest secret.

“I killed—”

Savvy appears next to me, both feet up on the dash, blue toenail polish chipped. She flashes me a grin. “Want to know a secret?”

I nod.

“I killed a dude and I'm not sorry. He fucking deserved it.”

Savvy was still staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to take her up on her offer to murder my husband.

“Even if
we
wanted to kill him,” I began slowly, “I think we'd be in way over our heads. Seeing as how neither of us has actually ever murdered someone before.”

“Speak for yourself.”

I barked out another laugh, but she didn't crack a smile. Her demeanor shifted, something dark and serious flashing across her eyes.

“Wait, you…” I trailed off, my breath catching in my throat.

She lowered her gaze from mine and nodded, once.

I stared at her, my heart in my throat. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” The word was a whisper, but then she straightened, shaking her head like she wanted to clear it of bad thoughts.

“Yes, seriously,” she said, her tone now with a hard edge to it. “I killed a dude and I'm not sorry. He fucking deserved it.”

“Savvy.” I grabbed her hand. I didn't think I believed her about not being sorry.

Or maybe I was wrong. Apparently I didn't know everything about Savvy.

“It's okay. I don't have trauma about it.” She shrugged in a way
that was supposed to convey how casual she felt, but it seemed forced to me.

“Who was he? What did he do to you?”

“Troy. An asshole I met in a bar who thought he could put his hands on me. He was wrong.” She flashed me a dark grin.

“Jesus, Savvy—”

“I'm fine.”

“Did you go to the police? It was self-defense, right?”

“The police.” She snorted. “No. I think the self-defense argument would have looked a little thin, given how many times I stabbed him.”

“How—how many times did you stab him?” My voice was a whisper.

“Maybe a few more times than was strictly necessary. Plus a couple more for good luck.”

I didn't know whether I was horrified or impressed.

“I thought the blood would bother me more, honestly.” Savvy shrugged. “It was a mess, which was annoying. This guy saw me coming out of the restroom with blood all over my hands, and I panicked for a minute, and then just went, ‘Oh my god, my period is so bad today!' You should have seen the look on his face.”

I gaped at her.

“And then I put him in my car, drove him out to the swamp, and dumped him in there. I thought for sure they'd find the body eventually, but I never heard anything. Maybe the gators ate him.”

Impressed. I was impressed.

“You put him in your car? A dead body? How did you even get him in there?”

“Hey.” She flexed her biceps. “I'm strong.”

“Lifting-a-dead-body strong?”

“He wasn't a big guy.”

I gave her a skeptical look.

“It took fucking forever,” she mumbled. “Thank god I had a
hatchback. I could just sort of drag the body in there and cover him with a blanket.”

I barked out a laugh. I quickly clapped my hand over my mouth to cut it off. “I'm sorry. It's not funny.”

“It's
hilarious
.” She poured a shot of tequila into a glass and nudged it in my direction. She poured one for herself and immediately tossed it back.

I lifted mine as well, but hesitated as I watched her fill her glass again.

“That's why you left college,” I said quietly. “Your mom keeps telling everyone that you missed home, but that wasn't it.”

She rolled her eyes and threw back the second shot. “Who the fuck
misses
Plumpton? No. I didn't like college. I'm supposed to take out tens of thousands of dollars in student loans just so I can sit in a lecture hall while a bored professor recites everything I just read in the wildly overpriced textbook? No thanks.”

I watched as she downed another shot. She lowered the glass to the bar, and I reached for her hand, lacing our fingers together.

“I'm sorry that happened to you.”

She shrugged.

“Seriously, Savvy,” I said softly. “You don't have to pretend with me that it wasn't a big deal.”

She nudged her glass with her finger, glancing up at me briefly. She lifted one shoulder, like
no big deal
, but her eyes told a different story. She squeezed my hand tightly.

“He deserved it,” she whispered. “And so does Matt.”