With Malice (27 page)

“I won't ever forget what you've done for me,” I said.

“All in day's work,” she said. She tossed the rubber-band ball that had been on her desk and caught it. “Now, why don't you tell me why you wanted to see me so badly?”

I lowered my voice. “I'm starting to remember.”

Dr. Weeks nodded for me to continue.

“Nothing really specific,” I admitted. “But images, stuff from Italy. There had been a few things earlier, but now it's happening a lot.”

“Are you sure you aren't having false memories, perhaps something someone told you about, or pictures you've seen?”

I shrugged. “I'm pretty sure they're real.”

“The thing to remember is that it is going to be very hard for you to know if they are real or not. I'm not saying that they aren't—or that they are—but simply that I want you to be cautious.”

I turned what she said over in my mind. “But that's the thing, right? I won't ever know for sure, unless I discover that I kept some kind of diary the whole time.”

“Even then you couldn't be sure,” Dr. Weeks said.

“Why?”

“You have no way of knowing if you wrote the diary with the goal of being completely honest with your feelings, or because you wished you felt that way, or because you suspected someone was reading your diary and you wanted them to find it.”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “You have a way of complicating things that I thought were straightforward.”

She shrugged humbly. “It's a gift.”

“I get that I can't know for sure, but these
feel
real,” I said.

She smiled. “Then I'm happy for you.”

“One of my memories is of Simone,” I said. “I can tell in that moment that things are okay. I didn't hate her.” The words I'd been saving up came out in a rush, tumbling over each other. “I don't know how to explain it, but I can tell by how I feel when I think of that one memory. I wouldn't have hurt Simone over Nico. I didn't care that much about him. I
know
it.”

Dr. Weeks reached over and took my hand. “Take it easy.”

I stopped talking and took several deep breaths to try to calm myself down.

“I am happy you're getting some of your memories back and even happier if what you're remembering is giving you some feelings of peace and resolution.”

“I know I've always said that I knew I didn't do it, but the truth is . . .”

“You were afraid that you might have,” she said, finishing my sentence.

I nodded. Relieved it was out there. Like I'd spit out a cancerous tumor, a wet, pulsing gray mass.

Dr. Weeks stood and came around her desk. “Come here,” she said. I stood, and she hugged me. “I always knew you didn't,” she said softly.

“How?” I asked.

She smiled. “I could just tell that's not who you are. But what's more important is that you've realized it.”

“I think it's going to be okay,” I said. I felt almost scared saying it aloud. Hoping I hadn't jinxed myself.

“I think so too.”

Justice for Simone
Blog

POLICE STATEMENT FROM ISABELLA FORNI, LOCAL RESIDENT, MONTEPULCIANO, ITALY

Florence Police Department

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

I saw this man (points to photo of Niccolo Landini) on April 28. I work at the bakery that is across from the hotel where the Americans were staying. He parked his car in the loading zone and then walked away. I didn't see him talk to either of the American girls, but he was here. Then I was busy in the back, getting an order ready. Later, when I looked again, the car was gone.

Postcard from Simone McIvory to Tara Ingells, dated April 28

I would say I wish you were here, but I wouldn't wish this trip on anyone. It sucks. I wish I wasn't here. I wish I wasn't anywhere.

Si

EXCERPT FROM POLICE INTERVIEW WITH TARA INGELLS

Date: 27 May  Time: 15:00

Present: Tara Ingells, Jennifer Ingells (Tara's mother), Detective Linda Winston, Detective Jonathon Reid

Transcript to be provided to Italian police

DETECTIVE REID: Why didn't you hand over the postcard to authorities when you were initially interviewed?

TARA INGELLS: I didn't think it was important. In fact, I didn't even get it in the mail until a few days after the accident. I'd already met with you guys. I guess it took a while to get to me because of being so far and stuff.

DETECTIVE REID: Is that the only reason you didn't turn it in?

TARA INGELLS: I thought people might use it to say Jill was making Simone unhappy, and I knew that wasn't it. I keep telling people that they were best friends, but everything keeps getting twisted around, like, sometimes stuff is true, but then it's not at the same time.

DETECTIVE WINSTON: Why bring the postcard forward now?

TARA INGELLS: There was a thing on the news yesterday that Simone's stab wounds wouldn't have been enough to kill her. Whatta you call it—superficial. Is that true?

DETECTIVE REID: We can't confirm any details.

TARA INGELLS: Well, the thing on the news is that she had only one really nasty cut on her arm and then one on her side. The news lady said it was, like, the accident that really killed her.

DETECTIVE REID: Again, we can't confirm any of the details.

TARA INGELLS: I don't want to hurt Simone's family.

JENNIFER INGELLS: Tell them what you told me.

TARA INGELLS: I wondered if anyone considered the idea that maybe Simone stabbed herself?

DETECTIVE WINSTON: You think it's possible Simone was attempting suicide?

TARA INGELLS: Not really wanting to die or anything, but Simone could be sort of, you know, dramatic.

DETECTIVE REID: Stabbing yourself is more than a bit dramatic.

JENNIFER INGELLS: She tried this once before.

TARA INGELLS: Mom!

DETECTIVE REID: I'm sorry. Ms. Ingells, can you clarify what you mean by “she tried it before”? Are you saying she stabbed herself?

JENNIFER INGELLS: No, just that she attempted suicide. Simone supposedly took a bunch of sleeping pills a year ago.

TARA INGELLS: Not that many. I don't even know if she really took them—she just told me that she did. Simone had something going on with her parents. I don't know what it was, but she was really upset about it. She took the pills to sorta get their attention and make them stop fighting. Like I said, she never really wanted to die. I didn't know about it when it happened, just after she told me. She wasn't upset. More like proud that her plan worked.

DETECTIVE REID: So you think it's possible this was an attempt to get Jill's attention?

TARA INGELLS: Maybe. If Simone did try to kill herself and Jill tried to stop her, that would explain why her fingerprints were on the knife. I bet Italy doesn't have 911, so maybe Jill was just trying to drive her to a hospital.

JENNIFER INGELLS: I've been watching the news coverage nonstop since this whole story broke. I heard about this being this Nico fellow's car. My theory is that Simone found out he was there to get back together with Jill, and she snapped—pulled this suicide stunt. Nico freaked out and refused to help, so Jill took the car and then there was the accident.

DETECTIVE WINSTON: Okay, let's slow this down. Did Simone ever directly tell you that she wanted to kill herself?

TARA INGELLS: No, but the postcard message seemed weird, especially after I heard about the cuts.

DETECTIVE WINSTON: Did Simone and you have any phone calls while she was in Europe?

TARA INGELLS: No. I think their phones didn't, like, work or something over there.

DETECTIVE WINSTON: Were there any other emails or correspondence between you and Simone or Jill other than those we've already reviewed and this postcard?

TARA INGELLS: No.

DETECTIVE WINSTON: So you have no direct knowledge of what happened between Jill and Simone?

TARA INGELLS: No, but I'm telling you, Jill wouldn't kill Simone over some guy.

DETECTIVE REID: Okay, thanks for bringing this forward. We will share this with the Italian detectives on the case.

TARA INGELLS: Is this going to help Jill?

DETECTIVE REID: I'm sorry, but we can't really comment on their case.

TARA INGELLS: Will I get the postcard back? It's the last thing I ever had from Simone.

DETECTIVE WINSTON: We will put in that request.

INTERVIEW ENDS

I yawned, trying to decide if I was too tired to take a shower before going to sleep. I pushed open the door to my room and shuffled in. Using crutches to get around was like a nonstop spin class. By the time the day was over, I'd be coated in a thin layer of sticky sweat and torn between wanting to wash it all off and wanting to collapse directly into bed.

“Hey,” Anna said.

I jumped. I hadn't realized she was in the room. “Any reason you're sitting around in the dark?” I asked her. Things between us were still awkward and overly polite. I wanted to fix that, but I didn't even know how to start.

“No. Just thinking,” Anna said. “I guess I didn't realize it had gotten so dark.”

I flicked the light next to my bed on and the fluorescent buzzed to life. I wondered if I could get the cast off early. My leg itched all the time now, like I'd slathered it in honey and stuck it in an anthill. It took all my self-control to keep from grabbing a wire hanger from the closet and shoving it down the side of the cast until I could reach just the spot. The only thing that prevented me was a horror story from one of the occupational therapists about someone who did that and developed a massive infection, complete with maggots. I peeled off my hoodie and caught a sniff of myself. Shower.

“I needed to talk to you about something,” Anna said.

“Sure.” I stepped into the bathroom and pulled my hair up into a loose bun.

“It's sorta important.”

My stomach clenched. I wasn't sure I was up to a big clear-the-air discussion. If she wanted to pound on my emotions, we'd need to wait until I had a nap at least.

I took a deep breath to ground myself. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I found out who your blog troll was.” Anna's voice was calm, as if she were announcing something mundane, like there was a slight chance of rain tomorrow, or the cafeteria had oatmeal cookies.