The Truth in My Lies

by Ivy Smoak

  “What about those?” I asked. There were a few more boxes from the basement that they hadn’t taken.

  “Those are the ones about you. They aren’t real so they don’t need them.”

  “What about fingerprints or something? They could find out who the imposter Dr. Nash is that I’ve been seeing.”

  “I have a feeling her fingerprints will be on the old files as well. I can run a few tests of my own, but it’s better that those files stay here. We don’t want to give anyone more of a reason to believe your false insanity title.”

  And I thought I couldn’t trust him? He was helping me bury evidence against myself. “Maybe we should burn it.”

  He gave me a weird look.

  “I have a bunch of kerosene and a blow torch.”

  “Addy, you need a permit to set a fire outdoors.”

  “Oh. I have a shredder too.” I had been planning on destroying all the files. Thank God I hadn’t.

  “Let’s wait to see what forensics comes back with first. Then I’ll know if I need to look for fingerprints.”

  “So that’s it? We just…wait?”

  “I’m sure they’ll find a pattern. We just have to give it some time.”

  Time. I felt like a clock was ticking down in my head. I still felt like I was running out of time.

  Chapter 45

  It was easy to forget when I was with Ben. Curled up into his side, I felt so calm and happy. I took another sip of wine. “It’s not your turn. It’s mine.”

  “You’re taking too long to ask a question.”

  “Fine.” I looked up at him. “Where do you want to be five years from now?”

  He laughed. “You’re going to steal my question without even answering it first?”

  “It wasn’t your turn and it’s a good question.” Besides, I wanted to know. I could picture us together five years from now. Could he?

  “I want to be married with a few kids.”

  “Hmm.” That’s what I wanted too.

  “Hmm? All you have to say is hmm?” His thumb traced circles on my hipbone.

  “Well now that I know that you’re actually 32, it’s not very alarming that you want to settle down soon.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “So do you see someone in particular filling the role of wife in your mind?”

  “It’s not your turn anymore.”

  “But your answer was hardly groundbreaking. Everyone says they want to be married with kids eventually.”

  “Well, what about you, Addy? I sat in that appointment with you when you said you were positive you didn’t want children for at least three more years. Is that really the case?” His thumb never stopped tracing circles on my hip.

  “I don’t want kids with him. I couldn’t handle losing another child. I barely kept going the first time. And actually having one with him would be worse. What if he hurt our baby too? What kind of mother would I be if I couldn’t protect my own child.”

  “I don’t mean with him. He’ll be in prison soon and you’ll be divorced.”

  “Is that so?”

  Ben nodded. “It’s as good as done.”

  “So who would I be having children with in this very plausible but still hypothetical situation?”

  “Someone who cares for you. Someone who would never hurt you or your child.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

  “And who might that be?”

  “It’s not your turn for a question.”

  “I hate 21 questions. It was like this game was designed to torture me.”

  He laughed. “Would you be open to the idea of having children with someone else?” He had reworded his question from earlier so that I’d give him the answer he wanted.

  “Yes, I still want children. Are you implying that you want to knock me up?”

  “I’m breaking the law for you, woman. My intentions are certainly clear.”

  I started to laugh, but it died away when I looked at his face. He looked genuinely serious. I wanted to tell him how I felt. I needed him to know that I was falling for him. That I could see the same future he could. He broke your trust by going through those files. I grabbed my glass of wine and took another sip. The files didn’t matter. It was good that he went through them. They were going to help.

  I pulled away from him, his hand falling from my hip. I needed space for a moment. It was hard to think straight around him. I took another sip of wine. Or maybe the alcohol was making my brain fuzzy.

  He looked concerned. I knew he cared about me. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be sitting here right now. He opened his mouth, but I started talking before he had a chance to say anything.

  “Ben, I have a hard time trusting people. Every time I open myself up, I’m crushed. My mother was very honest about not wanting me. My husband…” my voice trailed off and I looked down at my lap. “How am I supposed to believe you really care about me when I don’t know what it feels like to be cared about?”

  “I believe you do know. It feels like this, Addy.” He placed his hand on my shin. His touch instantly soothed me.

  I looked back up at him. “You mean that warm fuzzy feeling I get when I’m around you? Like nothing in the world seems bad anymore?”

  “Oh, no. Not that.”

  “No?”

  “No, Addy. I believe that warm fuzzy feeling is more than caring. I believe that’s love.”

  Love? My husband always said he loved me. And I mindlessly said it back. I wasn’t sure I had ever loved anyone. Even when I married my husband, it was to take care of my ill mother. And I certainly didn’t love my mother. I took care of her out of obligation, nothing more.

  “You think I love you?” I asked. “I barely know you, Ben.”

  “I think that maybe you have a hard time trusting, and caring, and loving. You’ve been through a lot. But I don’t think it means you’re incapable of those things. I understand if it takes you longer to feel the same way that I feel about you. You’re lucky that I’m a patient man.”

  “You love me?”

  “I’ve already let you ask a few questions in a row. Do you see yourself staying here? I primarily work in D.C. so it is a bit of a commute. But it’s not impossible.”

  I just stared at him. It was like he knew exactly what he wanted. All I had wanted for the past decade was to get away from my husband. It’s the only thing I dreamed of. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Ever since I had first seen Ben mowing lawns, I had dreamed of him. It seemed like all my wildest dreams were about to come true. “I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery.”

  “Good to know. And in answer to your earlier question…I love my job. I wouldn’t risk it for a simple crush. I think you’re amazing. And beautiful. And intoxicating. And yes, I could see myself five years from now with you by my side. With little kids with blonde hair.”

  I smiled. He knew my darkest secrets. He knew every part of the evilness that had seeped into my soul.

  “I’m falling in love with you, Addy.” He didn’t ask me the question back.

  But he didn’t need to. “I’m terrified that I’ve already fallen,” I said.

  He leaned forward and cupped the side of my face in his hand, drawing my lips closer to his. “I will never hurt you. Never.”

  I believed him. I did. But an unsettling thought crossed my mind. For some reason, I was more concerned that I might hurt him.

  His lips brushed against mine.

  I pushed aside the thought and let myself get lost in his kiss. Lost in him. And for the first time in my life, I did feel loved. Whole. Safe. And happy.

  Chapter 46

  I re-taped the box from Amazon and pushed it into the corner of the family room with the rest of the moving boxes. That was the last of it. I had organized everything into two groups. Things that were my husband’s that I didn’t want, and the items that were mine that I did want.

  I stared at the boxes filled with files. Ben hadn’t heard back from the forensic team yet. The files
could still be important. I shoved them into the “keep” pile. It wasn’t much. I had really only wanted my clothes and a few other knickknacks. I would be starting a new life tomorrow. I didn’t want to be weighed down by anything from my past. Besides, my husband was extremely wealthy. And I was about to get half of everything in the divorce. Or will I get everything in the divorce since my husband’s a serial killer?

  The doorbell rang. For the first time, I was excited to answer it. This would be the last time I ever had to see the gawkers. And there were only a few more hours before cops would swarm my house and arrest my husband. I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face.

  “Hey, girls,” I said as I opened up the door.

  Charlotte’s eyes wandered over me. She had a look of utter disapproval on her face. “Were you not expecting us, hon? I thought I said 3.”

  “What? I was expecting you.” I stepped to the side, welcoming them in.

  “Oh.” She laughed awkwardly. “Pretend I didn’t say anything. We brought wine and snacks.” She, Rosie, and Phoenix each walked in carrying a bottle of wine and covered dishes.

  “You look fine,” Rosie said. “Ignore her. The last time I packed, it was 90 degrees out and our air conditioner was broken. I was a complete mess. You, on the other hand, look super cute.”

  I looked down at my outfit. I was dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. Was that why Charlotte had said that? She thought I was inappropriately dressed? Give me a break. I pulled my hair out of its messy bun as they stared at me. Screw you, gawkers. I walked towards the kitchen and ran my fingers through my hair. “I left a few glasses out. They’re pretty much the only things I haven’t packed.”

  “I can’t believe we’ve never been here,” Phoenix said as she eyed the boxes in the kitchen. “You’re moving and we never really even got to know you.”

  And whose fault is that? She didn’t blame Phoenix and Rosie, though. If anything, they had been the nicest to her in the whole neighborhood. It was Charlotte who was the ringleader of evil looks and snarky comments. She had probably told them not to hang out with me. “It’s okay, I know you were all probably super busy.” I eyed the bottles they placed on the table. “Crap, I packed up the corkscrew. One second, I know it’s in one of these boxes.” I turned toward one of my husband’s piles.

  “It’s okay, I came prepared.” Phoenix reached into her designer purse and pulled out a bottle opener.

  Charlotte shot her a disapproving glance and grabbed it from her. “Ladies, I say we make a toast.” She opened up the bottle and started pouring the wine. “To new beginnings.” She raised her glass.

  “Hear, hear!” Far away from you. I clinked my glass to hers, downed the whole thing, and put it back on the table a little harder than I meant to. I was lucky it didn’t crack. They all stared at me. It had only taken me 5 seconds with Charlotte to realize that I needed to be more than tipsy to get through the next couple of hours with her. They’d have to deal. I poured myself some more.

  Charlotte cleared her throat and sat down at the table. “I still can’t believe we never even met your husband.”

  Of course they wouldn’t remember seeing him at the neighborhood picnics. He always promised that he’d come. But then he’d only stay for a few minutes before leaving for an important business call. It was always the same lame excuse. “He travels a lot for work. He’s incredibly busy.” I sat down across from her. It felt like I was about to partake in the ultimate showdown. Snooty gawker versus tortured housewife. This was a game I could win.

  “What does he do for work?” she asked.

  He’s a serial killer. “He’s an insurance collector of sorts.”

  “That sounds interesting,” Rosie said. “What exactly does that entail?”

  Murder. “Honestly, I’m not really sure,” I said with a laugh. “What do your husbands do?”

  “I’m actually very involved in my husband’s business,” Charlotte said. “We’re in real estate together. I handle staging the houses before showings. He always says I drive all the sales. God, I can’t imagine just sitting around all day doing nothing. How boring would that be?”

  For just a second I wished I had booby-trapped the house. For her. She knew I didn’t work. I took another huge gulp of wine and pulled the aluminum foil off the closest dish. It was covered in chocolate chip cookies. “Oh, yum. These look great.” I stuffed one in my mouth.

  “I made them from scratch,” Charlotte said.

  I grabbed a napkin and spit it out. “I’m so sorry.” I wiped the corners of my mouth. “There was a hair in it,” I lied.

  She gasped. “What?” She snatched the plate and stared down at the cookies. “I’m going to have to have a word with the bakery about that.” As soon as the words slipped out of her mouth she laughed awkwardly. “I mean I…” her voice trailed off. She sighed. “I ran out of time today. There was a showing this morning that took longer than expected.”

  “That’s okay,” Phoenix said. “I just dumped a pile of Chex mix in a bowl.”

  “I was too busy to cook anything too. Pretending to be a perfect housewife is exhausting.” Rosie laughed and revealed her dish. “I added some sour cream on top to make it look homemade. But I bought the dip from the grocery store.”

  “You know, I have some mint chocolate chip ice cream in the fridge,” I said. “Does anyone want some?”

  “That sounds amazing,” Rosie and Phoenix said at the same time.

  “Is it dairy free?” Charlotte asked. “I don’t eat dairy products. I can’t believe how they treat the poor cows.”

  “No. It’s the good stuff.” I rummaged through a few boxes and pulled out spoons and bowls. Charlotte glared at us as we stuffed ice cream in our faces. I honestly liked these girls, Charlotte excluded. We could have been friends. If my life had been different, maybe we would have been.

  I felt so normal. For an hour, my problems evaporated. I laughed more than I had in years.

  My phone ringing pulled me away from the conversation. It was Ben. We had only been apart for a few hours, but I missed him. I quickly answered his call.

  “Hi!” I said. “What’s up, I’m a little busy hanging out with my girls.”

  Rosie raised her glass to me and took another sip.

  “Are you drunk?” he asked.

  “No.” I laughed. “Maybe a little.”

  "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

  "Good news."

  "Okay. So you know how the serial killer had been targeting men? And then the wives were going missing?"

  "Yeah. My husband was probably selling the women into prostitution." As if he could be any more of a monster.

  All three women looked up at me with shocked expressions.

  I held my hand over the receiver as I shrugged and mouthed, "Telemarketer." That just made them even more shocked. I walked out of the kitchen to continue the conversation in private.

  "Maybe," said Ben. "But that's not the important part. What's important is that we finally found a concrete link between all the murders. Up until now, we'd been looking at what the men had in common, since they were the primary victims. But when we went through your husband’s files, we realized that all the men's wives, the ones disappearing, were all patients of Dr. Nash."

  For some reason I felt a tightening in my chest. I was Dr. Nash's patient too. I felt camaraderie with those women. No, I hadn’t disappeared. But it felt like a piece of my soul had disappeared the first time my husband ever put his hands on me.

  “Yeah. It’s bigger than we originally thought. "We think he might have killed the women too. But now that you bring up the prostitution thing, I guess that's a possibility. We haven't been able to find the women's bodies. That might be why. I'll run it by some of our human trafficking guys. Either way, this link combined with all your statements should be enough to prevent your husband from getting bail while we piece the rest together."

  "What about the prints on the files?" I asked. "Isn't
that the final bit of evidence that we need?"

  Ben cleared his throat. "That’s the bad news. His prints weren't on the files. Not a single one."

  “Of course they were. He made the files. Have forensics look again.”

  "We already double checked," said Ben. "Honestly, the lack of prints make your husband look even more guilty. It’s super weird. I mean, the files were in his house. He would have had to have been extremely careful to never get his prints on them."

  "Right. I hadn't thought about that. What about Dr. Nash? Were her fingerprints on them?"

  "No, but I didn't expect them to be. You said you thought you lost the original files when your last home burnt down two years ago. These were just copies. Dr. Nash has been dead for four years, so her fingerprints wouldn't have been on them. But, there is some good news here. There was one other set of prints besides yours. They belong to a Maria Gonzalez. We're still trying to locate her. She's originally from the Bronx, but her last known address is abandoned. Regardless, we think she must have been the woman impersonating Dr. Nash. The one that’s been subscribing you medicine you don’t need and helping your husband commit these murders.”

  “No, she’s my…” The word got stuck in my throat. A word that made no sense at all. I immediately coughed. No. The side of my face twitched. No.

  “Addy, do you know her?”

  I thought about the box in the woods. The box that I had completely forgotten to tell Ben about. The picture of the other woman seemed to focus in my mind.

  “Do you know her?” Ben repeated.

  Maria Gonzales. I did know her. She was the woman in the picture. She was… I shook away the thought. My memory was playing tricks on me. “She’s an old friend,” I said. Lies had always come easier to me than the truth.

  “You showed the files to her?”

  “No…I…” my voice trailed off. “Yeah, that sounds right. I showed them to her.”