I banged again, with one fist now. “It’s Natalie Breyas. I’m here to pick up Chrissy for our interview.”
Seconds later, the door swung open, nearly knocking me off the thin stamp of porch.
Dennis’s face was red and blotchy, his eyes wide as saucers. He huffed from his nose like a caged bull, then said, “Good, please get her out of here.”
For a moment, I was scared he would ask me in. But then Chrissy’s face appeared behind him. Her nose and mouth were bleeding.
For the first time since meeting her in person, she looked as defeated as she had on camera following her release from prison.
“Come on,” I said, motioning her to come with me. Dennis was glaring at me, still breathing hard, but I couldn’t manage to raise my eyes to meet his.
I wasn’t exactly frightened of him; I had my cell phone in my pocket and could call the cops if I needed to. But I was afraid of doing anything to set him off; anything to give him a reason not to let her leave.
Chrissy coughed in her hand, using the opportunity to swipe at the blood on her face.
“I forgot about our meeting. Let me grab a few things and I’ll meet you out there in a minute.”
The last thing I wanted to do was let Dennis close the door and for her to disappear back inside that trailer … but what choice did I have?
I got back in my car and waited. Minutes passed, my heart beating in my chest like a drum. I clenched my hands into tight fists, nails digging into my palms.
I could remember Mom and Dad fighting, angry voices behind their door. Dad had never hit her, but they’d argued viciously when they thought they were “alone”. It was no surprise when she left us. I was only fourteen when she went. She took everything with her … her clothes and shoes, all of her jewelry. Every piece of her was gone, almost like she’d never been there in the first place.
The fallout and stress after the Juliott murder tipped her over the edge.
But I wish she would have taken me with her. She wasn’t the only one who wanted to escape Austin…
“I have to go away soon,” she had told me. “I want you to know that I love you. Me leaving … it has nothing to do with you. Your dad and I … and what happened to that girl … I just can’t stay here anymore.” She warned us so many times she was going, but I didn’t think she really would.
I was almost ready to get back out and approach the trailer, when the front door banged open and shut. Chrissy emerged from the rickety porch, a ratty old backpack slung over her left shoulder.
If she leaves Dennis, where will she go? I wondered.
As Chrissy folded herself into my car’s passenger seat, I released a pent-up whoosh of breath.
I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, I decided.
I clicked the automatic locks and backed away from the grimy old trailer.
We were sitting in my den like two girlfriends, paper plates filled with thick, gooey slices of pizza balanced on both of our laps.
“I haven’t had pizza in years,” Chrissy moaned, closing her eyes as she chewed an oversized bite of sausage and pepperoni.
The traces of blood were gone; she’d barely mentioned the incident with Dennis since getting in the car with me. Her stomach was rumbling and so was mine after that messy meal at Katie’s. I’d considered stopping somewhere to eat, but I didn’t want to draw any attention to us.
“Where is this from again?” Chrissy asked, finishing off one piece and promptly scooping up another from the box.
“Gia’s. It’s been around for a while, but not since…”
“Not since I went to prison,” Chrissy finished for me.
I nodded. I’d gone outside to meet the delivery boy, leaving Chrissy in the house so she wasn’t spotted. With no vehicle to place her here, I was hoping the news vans would stay away.
“I heard about what happened last night,” Chrissy said, talking through a mouth full of cheese and sauce.
My stomach turned, remembering the incident with the girls. Specifically, Adrianna’s daughter.
“How did you hear about that?” I dropped my pizza plate on the floor by my feet, then sank deeper in the cushions, head swimming with exhaustion. I’d barely slept in the last twenty-four hours, but it was more than that—I felt mentally drained by it all.
“Facebook, where else? There’s a private group on there, discussing my homecoming. Local peeps,” she added, as I raised my eyebrows.
“If it’s private, how do you know about it?”
“Well, I don’t know … I don’t understand how this social media stuff works. I could see the group, but I couldn’t see the posts. So, naturally, I infiltrated.”
For some reason, that didn’t surprise me. It sounded like something I’d do, if I wanted to sneakily get information.
“What did they say about last night?”
“Just that some local teens put a plastic dummy in the field.” Chrissy smirked at me.
“And? What else did they say?” I asked, rubbing my eyes drearily.
“That you chased them like a banshee through the woods in your bathrobe.”
I rolled my eyes. “Jesus. Let me guess? Adrianna’s in the Facebook group.”
“Yeah. I think so. But who cares?” Chrissy shrugged. She picked up her cup of soda and chugged it loudly.
I winced as she burped in my direction.
“Sorry. Prison isn’t exactly charm school,” she teased.
“So what happened back there with Dennis? You still haven’t told me.”
Chrissy’s face hardened. “He’s an asshole. I met him while I was in prison, through letters and calls. He’s the brother of one of my fellow inmates. Former fellow inmate,” she corrected.
“Why him? And who was this other inmate? How did you know her?” I pushed.
Part of me wanted to test her, to see if she’d lie about Alison Alinsky.
“His sister Alison was in prison with me. She
