I certainly wouldn’t call most of them “rich kids”. My brother and I didn’t fit that bill at all. But, in Chrissy’s eyes, I could see how she saw it that way…
“Truth be told, they couldn’t stand Trevor. But you know why they liked him around?”
I took a long sip of my lukewarm beer. When I realized she was waiting for me to ask, I swallowed and said, “No. Why?”
“Trevor could fight. And if there were one thing those snotty-ass kids liked to do when they got drunk it was having a good brawl in the front yard. Beating Trevor was the gold standard, you see. Not a single one of them could do it.”
“What did your brother get out of it?”
Chrissy snorted. “That fucker loved to fight. Still does probably…”
“Do you still communicate with your family?”
Chrissy’s teasing smile evaporated. “No.”
“They didn’t come to see you in prison?”
She shook her head.
“Not even once?”
Chrissy put up a finger. “Once. My father came. I could see it in his eyes when he sat down … the horror and the shame he felt, seeing his baby girl behind bars.”
“What did he say?”
“It was me who did all the talking. I told him and Mom to move on, my brothers too … to let me do my time in peace. Jenny’s time with her family was over; didn’t seem fair for me to get to see mine.”
“That doesn’t sound like something an innocent person would say, no offense.” The words flowed like honey from my tongue, the beer loosening me up already. “I’m sorry,” I added, scooting the drink away with my fingertips.
Chrissy frowned. “No, you’re right. It doesn’t. It’s exactly what a guilty person would say. But I never denied feeling bad about what happened to Jenny. Guilt and remorse … do you really think the person who did all those terrible things to her was capable of feeling regret?”
Flashes of crime scene photos bombarded my memories … and the real view—the only one that mattered … her wounds jagged and deep, the burn marks on her face and hands. No, whoever did that is pure evil, I decided.
Chrissy seemed gloomy and headstrong, a woman with a dark past.
But a killer? I just can’t see it.
“We got off-track for a second. We were talking about how you met John,” I recalled.
Chrissy smiled. “Ah yes. John Bishop. How could I forget? I met him at a party with Trevor. He didn’t like to take me with him, but sometimes he had to … when my mom tried to get her shit together, she took a night job. It was great ’cause it meant we had a steady income and she was staying clean … but Dad was still out on the road a lot, so my brothers had to take care of me. Trent was older, with his own friends by then, which meant I was left in the care of Trevor most nights.”
“Did your mom know you were going to those parties?”
Chrissy shrugged. “I don’t think so, but what choice did she have? My brother wouldn’t have listened to her even if she had forbade him to take me.”
“And John?” I pressed.
“John … he was a pretty boy; I’ll give him that. But he was way too stuck up for me.”
“But you all did date…” I pressed.
“All you school brats … you had to put a name to everything. The truth is that I wasn’t into him at first. It was all him, constantly asking me to come hang out. Writing notes. I wanted no part of it, honestly. But, then, finally … I agreed to hang out with him one-on-one.”
This didn’t ring true to me either. In every story and article I’d read, Chrissy was supposedly obsessed with John and hated his steady girlfriend, Jenny…
“What made you change your mind and agree to see him?” I asked, going along with her version of the story.
“He grew on me, I guess. But that was before I got to see the real side of him. He rarely saw Jenny outside of school; did you know that?”
I did. Jenny Juliott was a preacher’s daughter. The way she was raised was probably the complete opposite of Chrissy Cornwall.
“I think I did know that,” I said, quietly.
The real side of John Bishop. What did that entail? The papers had made him out to be the popular kid … the all-American athlete with good grades and a killer smile. The kind of boy girls would kill for…
“I don’t think John had ever met a girl like me. I smoked and drank. I wasn’t afraid to mess around … and I wasn’t stuck up like Jenny. After she found out he liked me, she started smoking and even trying to dress like me … you probably don’t believe me.”
“No, I do. I’m just taking it all in. According to the news it was you who pursued him…”
“They lied. But does it matter? The results were the same. A girl still wound up dead,” Chrissy said, solemnly.
Her eyes were glassy, a gleam to them I hadn’t seen before.
“It might matter. If someone set you up, Chrissy … or you know who really did this … you should tell me,” I spoke, softly.
Chrissy yawned. “I’m tired. Is it okay if we talk more tomorrow? I’ll shoot you an email when I’m free.”
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. It was midnight, but I could have listened to Chrissy talk all night…
“No problem. Just let me know.” I picked up the unused tape recorder and closed my notebook.
“I have something for you to look at when you get home. Wait here,” Chrissy said.
She stood and sauntered down a dark hallway. For a brief moment, I imagined her emerging
