With Malice (23 page)

I followed her into the city, and she was just sitting alone in the main square. She was trying to pet one of the stray cats. There are strays everywhere in Italy, but it's not like home. Someone must feed them, because they all look pretty fat and happy. Maybe they're not strays, maybe it's just a thing where the whole town adopts them. Jill finally got to pet the cat, but then something spooked it, and it ran away. She looked like it broke her heart.

I asked her if she was okay, and she said she was. I told her that if she didn't want to hang out with Simone, she was totally welcome to hang with me and my friend Keenisha. She said it would be okay and she was pretty sure she and Simone would make up. I was surprised, but she said they'd been friends forever and there was no point being mad at Simone for being Simone.

FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGY CONSULT REPORT ADDENDUM, DR. JEROME KERR

Date: 20 May

Client: Detective Alban, Florence Police Department

Original report in Italian, translated to English by Stoker and Mills Translation Services, New York, New York

I was asked to review new information to determine if it changed any of the opinions in my earlier report, dated 3 May.

I was asked to assume the following facts:

1. That Ms. Charron was in a romantic/sexual relationship with Niccolo Landini
   

    
   

2. That Mr. Landini was also having a relationship with Ms. McIvory
   

    
   

3. That Ms. Charron became aware of this dual relationship and confronted Ms. McIvory
   

As was stated in my earlier report, the two girls had a long-standing relationship. While it is certainly possible that this situation could have led to a violent incident, it is important to note that two days passed between when the affair was discovered and when the accident occurred. To me, this indicates that either a) Ms. Charron took time to plan the crime, perhaps with the assistance of Mr. Landini, given that we now know he was in the area, or b) a further incident occurred that ignited the passions of the two girls.

The crime was what profilers typically describe as disorganized. The types of injuries sustained by Ms. McIvory from the knife were nonlethal. Her death was a result of the injuries sustained in the automobile accident. In my opinion, based on the nature of the injuries, as well as the method (driving off a cliff), the crime does not appear to have been planned and more likely occurred spontaneously. As a result there would have been some type of inciting incident. While I am aware that there is a working theory that Ms. Charron killed Ms. McIvory over the relationship with Mr. Landini, it is important to note that Ms. Charron did not demonstrate a highly romantic personality. While I have no doubt she was interested in Mr. Landini, I have not seen any documentation that she had fallen in love or believed that this was a long-lasting relationship. In my opinion, if the actions on April 28 were not an accident, then something else must have enraged Ms. Charron.

With the information provided, I am unable to comment on whether Mr. Landini would have been involved. I would be happy to review this possible impact on the crime should further information become available.

Justice for Simone
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I was so angry, my hands were shaking. I pushed open the door to our room and just watched her. Anna had her headphones on, and her eyes were closed. Her head and arms swayed to the music. Dr. Weeks said I wasn't sure how to deal with the emotion of anger, and she might have been right that I tended to ignore it, but I wasn't going to anymore.

Anna opened her mouth and belted out, “All I've ever needed was yooooou!” She jolted in her seat when she opened her eyes and saw me. She clicked off her music. “Jesus, you scared me.”

I didn't say anything.

“I thought you had art therapy,” Anna said.

“Oh, sorry, did you miss your chance to get a photo?” I bit out. My dad had tried to warn me, and I hadn't listened.

Anna's eyebrows crunched in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about the photos of me that are all over the Internet. Shots of me in physio, sitting in the lounge, even the one of the two of us together in the cafeteria. Nice that you included one of yourself. I guess you wanted a chance to have your shot for some fame too.” I enjoyed how the sharp words flew out of my mouth at her.

Anna's lips pressed into a tight line. “I didn't share any photos. It's a big hospital. Did it occur to you that anyone could have taken those shots? Someone on staff, or another patient—”

“Don't lie. Those were
my
photos. Ones my mom or I took. They were on my laptop.” I tapped the side of my head like I was thinking. “Who could have possibly had time alone in my room with my computer? Let me think.”

Our door pushed open, and my mom swept in. “I brought pizza! Extra cheese. I thought we could all watch
Bachelorette
together.” She stopped two steps in, no doubt frozen in place by the icy tension stretched between Anna and me. “Girls, is everything okay?”

“I've used your laptop to search around the Internet and watch a couple of movies. I never copied any of your pictures,” Anna said.

“I hope you at least got a decent amount of cash to sell me out.” I fixed her with a stare. “I trusted you.”

Anna tossed her headphones onto her bed. “This is bullshit. I don't need to listen to this. I am good to the people in my life.”

I barked out a bitter laugh. “I'm supposed to take advice on healthy relationships from someone whose boyfriend pushed her down the stairs?”

Anna pulled back as if I'd struck her. It was a low blow, but so was what she'd done to me. Maybe she thought it wasn't a big deal; the photos weren't nasty. She could have shared bigger secrets, but having those pictures of me out there made me vulnerable. I was sick of everyone sticking his or her nose in every part of my life. She'd taken advantage of me. Even if the photos weren't bad, they were mine.

“Jill, sweetheart,” my mom said.

“I'm outta here.” Anna pushed past me with her chair.

“Anna, please don't go,” my mom said. She stood there with the pizza box as if she were considering trying to block her.

“Just leave,” I said. I'd been looking forward to confronting her once I saw the photos, but instead of feeling vindicated, I was just tired. Anna left the room without looking back.

“Jill, you need to apologize,” my mom said.

I threw my bag down on my bed. “No, I don't. There are worse things than being rude to someone.” My mom's constant need to be polite, to avoid ruffling feathers, was grating on me. I was sick of doing things her way. Where had putting other people first gotten her? “She sold pictures of me. Pictures of me
here,
” I explained. “They're all over the Internet.” I started grabbed some of my things that had migrated to Anna's side of the room. “Dad was right. I shouldn't have roomed with anyone.”

Mom put the pizza box down on the bedside table and stepped in front of me, holding my shoulders so I couldn't turn away. “Stop what you're doing and listen to me.” Her voice was firm and cold. Her tone surprised me into silence. She took a deep breath. “Your dad and Evan were the ones who leaked the photos.”

I heard the words, but they rolled around inside my head, not making much sense. “What?”

“You dad and Evan thought it would be good if there were some photos of you here, recovering. That if people could see you really were injured, that you were working so hard to get well, it would give you some sympathy.”

I stared at her. “Why didn't anyone ask me? They're my pictures.”

Mom's features grew pinched and tight. There were bright spots of color in her cheeks. “I told your dad we should tell you.”

“But you didn't,” I pointed out.

“Your dad and Evan thought it was more important that you not be involved. Then if anyone asked you about them, you could legitimately deny knowing anything about it.” She looked almost frightened, as if she didn't know what I would do.

I slouched in my chair. “Anna is never going to forgive me.”

“It never occurred to me that you'd think it was her. I didn't . . . I just thought you'd assume it was someone in the hospital . . .” Her hands fluttered nervously by her side. “I knew you two were close. I didn't think you'd suspect her.”

The smell of the greasy pizza made me feel nauseated. You'd think my mom would know by now I didn't respond well when I thought a friend had double-crossed me. She was probably glad she'd gotten to the room before I stabbed Anna and stuffed her into the garbage chute. “So you were okay with me wondering who sold me out. Having to second-guess everything,” I said.

Mom crouched down so she could look me in the eyes. “I honestly didn't think it would bother you this much. They're flattering photos. I made sure your dad didn't choose anything you wouldn't want public.”

I wanted to pull the covers over my head. She didn't get it. I didn't care if the photo made me look like I had a double chin or if I had a stupid expression on my face. What mattered was that people had seen me here in this place I'd thought was safe. I couldn't leave the hospital because there might be reporters. Every time I went online, there were pictures of my Facebook pages, people dissecting everything I'd ever said. Copies of reports I'd written in English class had been offered up as proof of various theories. I'd thought this was the one place where I wasn't being constantly inspected. Checked over. And when I saw those pictures, it felt like I'd been stripped naked and told to stand in front of the room so everyone could get a good look. It was as if I could feel those millions of eyes crawling over every inch.

“Talk to Anna,” Mom said. “She'll understand.”

I wasn't so sure. Loyalty was a huge thing for her. An ugly thought came into my head. Like a corpse suddenly erupting from the surface of the water. “Dad knew I would blame Anna. That's what he wanted.”

Mom sucked in a breath. “Oh, honey, I don't think so.”

I swallowed hard. I was certain of it. He didn't trust Anna, and he hadn't wanted me to either. I plopped into my wheelchair and dragged the pizza box into my lap. I couldn't use my crutches and carry it. “I'm going to go find Anna.”

“Do you want me to come? Try and explain?”

“No, I'm the one who fucked things up. I'm the only one who can make it better.”

“Okay.”

Things must've been bad—she didn't even tell me not to use the f-word.

I checked the lounge on the way, but I was pretty sure I knew where I'd find Anna. I pushed the door to rooftop lounge open, and she was there, her chair at the very far corner as if she wanted to launch herself off into space.

I wheeled up next to her. “I suppose you want to shove me off.”

She shrugged. “Not sure you're worth the effort.”

The pizza box was soggy from the steam. I handed it over to her. “I know ‘sorry' isn't going to cut it.”

“Then why are you here?” Anna didn't look at me. She kept her gaze on the horizon.

“Because even though it isn't going to work, I still need to say it.”

“I get it, you know. Why you're so pissed. What happens here shouldn't be seen by anyone. It's private. Do you think I want anyone to see me like this?” She gestured to her limp legs. “Everyone thinks getting through rehab is some kind of noble thing.
Oh, look at the cripple being so brave.
But it's not brave, because what else are you going to do but keep moving forward? Die? Too late—you already survived. Rehab is like taking a shit. It's ugly, and it stinks, and you don't want anyone to see you do it, but it's unavoidable.”

I flinched at her words. “I should have asked you, not accused you.”

“Fine, but you still thought I would do that. Me.” She shook her head. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” I insisted.

Anna looked up and away. “Whatever. You should spend your time figuring out who really screwed you, because it wasn't me.”

“It was my dad,” I said in a soft voice. “He's the one who leaked the photos. He thought they might get me some sympathy.”

She let her breath out in a slow whistle. “No. He did it because he's a dick.”

“I know it doesn't make it okay, but I'm really sorry.” I rubbed my temples. “All of this isn't who I am.”

“It seems like you're not sure who you are. That's your problem.” She raised a hand before I could respond. “Don't you get it? Who we are is what comes out when shit goes bad. You can't tell anything about a person when things are great. If you want to really know someone, be there when everything goes to hell.”

“Maybe I'm not better than this—but I want to be,” I said.

She tossed her hair back. “Fine. Look, let's not make a huge drama out of it. We're stuck together until you check out.” Anna gestured to the pizza. “I'll take this as a peace offering, and we'll call it good. Just forget it ever happened.”