Kaitlyn felt ashamed, but not as much as she ought to. This wasn’t new information, after all. She’d been living with it for a long time. “I know what I did.”
“They think you died, Kaitlyn. They’ve had to deal with that. Added to that, now there’s Franny in the mix. And you’re not dead. How are they going to process all of this?”
“You can’t tell them I’m alive.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“They don’t have to know. There must be a way. Please.”
“What? I have to keep your secrets now? That’s the big plan?”
“I don’t have a plan. None of this was planned.”
“I feel like we’re going around in circles.”
“We have to stop Franny. That’s why I’m here. But I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt anyone more than I already have.”
Kaitlyn couldn’t stand the pained expression on Cecily’s face any longer. She broke eye contact and tried to focus on something else. The pictures on the mantel, the four of them together. Looking like the perfect family they weren’t anymore. Because of her. Because of Tom. She should’ve deleted that first e-mail from him. She should’ve shut down any attempt to follow through. But instead she wrote back: You don’t look so bad yourself.
And sealed her fate. Cecily’s, too.
“How are we supposed to do that if you’re not going to come forward?” Cecily asked. “I mean, why would anyone believe me? I haven’t got any evidence.”
“We’ll have to get some, then. Investigate her. Look into her past. I’ve been reading a lot online, and I don’t think anyone’s done that yet.”
A spark of hope crossed Cecily’s face for the first time. “I might know someone who can help us with that.”
INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT
TJ: That’s your real name, isn’t it, Franny? Eileen. Eileen Warner.
FM: So what if it is?
TJ: Well, I’m interested in why you might have changed it, for one.
FM: Haven’t you ever wanted to change something in your life? You know, start over, start fresh?
TJ: I’m sure it’s a common feeling. But most people don’t act on it.
FM: Well, I’m not most people.
TJ: Are you referring to something specific?
FM: What did she say?
TJ: Who?
FM: Her. Sherrie. What else did she say when you spoke to her?
TJ: She mentioned you’d been in some trouble.
FM: Typical. Tell me something, is this how the rest of this interview’s going to go?
TJ: How do you mean?
FM: Are you going to pull out pieces of information one by one and spring them on me? Do you think I’m going to sit through that?
TJ: You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.
FM: That is such a joke.
TJ: I feel as if we’re having two conversations here.
FM: Now you know how I feel, right? When did you speak to her? How long have you been letting me sit here making a fool of myself? Since the first time? Since the beginning?
TJ: Calm down, please.
FM: I hate it when people say that to me. I am calm, okay? I’m allowed to raise my voice when something upsetting is happening to me. I’m allowed.
TJ: Do you want to end the session?
FM: No, I want to know what else you know about me. All of it.
TJ: You know that’s not how this works.
FM: Well, none of this is working out the way it was supposed to, is it?
TJ: How about . . . What if you just told me your story in your own way? Without my prompting you or anything. Just tell me whatever you want to tell me.
FM: Why should I do that?
TJ: You might find it helpful to unburden yourself.
FM: Like therapy?
TJ: It doesn’t have to be like that. And I’m not a therapist.
FM: Then what would be the point?
TJ: You’ll have to decide that for yourself. But I’ve found, doing this all these years, that often there’s a certain kind of catharsis in telling someone your story.
FM: And if I do that . . . what? You get your big scoop, right? And I’m . . . I just go back where I came from like none of this ever happened.
TJ: It doesn’t have to be like that.
FM: Oh, sure, right. You don’t know what’s going to happen. No one does.
TJ: Why don’t you tell me, and then we’ll see?
FM: Just tell you the truth? The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?
TJ: This isn’t a court of law.
FM: Maybe not. But I’m going to be judged anyway, aren’t I?
31
THE FRIEND OF MY ENEMY
CECILY
“Everything I tell you is confidential, right?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
I’m back in therapy, back in the confines of Linda’s office, the tie I thought I cut turning out to be just another loose end to get tangled in.
“Because I have to tell you something I can’t tell anyone, so I have to know it’s safe.”
“I have to keep confidentiality unless I think you’re a threat to yourself or others. Are you?”
I think of the flashes of red rage I’ve felt off and on since Kaitlyn walked back into my life. But if I didn’t strike her last night, I’m unlikely to do it now.
“No, it’s nothing like that.”
“Is it illegal?”
“That’s a good question. If you fake your own death, is that illegal?”
“Is this a hypothetical discussion or something you’re planning?”
“What? Oh no, no, it’s not about me.”
“But it is about someone.”
“Maybe. I’m still fact gathering here.”
Linda shakes her head. “Well, I’m not a lawyer, but theoretically, if you faked your death to get an advantage, insurance money, say, then yes, I think it would be illegal.”
“What if it was just to get away? Not for financial reasons. Not directly, anyway, and I don’t know how this person could’ve known about that anyway . . .”
“Cecily, why don’t you simply tell me who you’re talking about, and we can take it from there?”
“And you’ll keep whatever I tell you to yourself?”
“Yes.”
I lean back on the couch, unleashing a trace of the previous occupant’s perfume. I don’t recognize it, but it smells expensive. I’ve smelled it before, and my mind wanders to who it might be. Do I know her? Linda specializes in people in highly confidential positions. She has separate in and out doors so patients don’t run into one another in the lobby. I never thought I’d need that
