The mood in the house this evening can only be described as hostile flailing.
I can tell the exact moment when Mom starts listening to episode four, because she’s suddenly calling everyone in town. I can only make out a few words as I creep past her bedroom door and down the stairs, wincing at every creak—“irresponsible” and “outrageous”—but the constant chatter never ends.
“I don’t know!” Mom’s voice is really loud now. “He was so nice when I spoke to him, and now he’s acting like Don and I know everything. I did an entire interview with him months ago, told him anything he wanted to know, and he hasn’t aired a word of it!”
I grab my purse from the counter and slip out the door. I need to be elsewhere just in case she realizes who’s really to blame for all of this (me).
Dad is strolling up the front walk, sweat wilting the collar of his white shirt, and I almost run smack into him.
“You’re in a hurry.” He looks … amused, which is unexpected, given Mom’s mood. Even if he’s not listening to the podcast, there’s no way she didn’t immediately text him upon starting today’s episode.
“Sorry.” I step around him and say, “I’m going to Grandma’s,” even though I hadn’t actually decided on that. But it was what I always did, as a kid. Run away before the screaming gets too loud to ignore.
“Lucy.”
I stop and look back at him.
“If you’ve remembered something, and you want to talk to someone, you can still talk to me.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I’m not sure what I expected, but that wasn’t it.
“I…” He sighs and slides his hands into his pockets. He looks sad, which is an emotion I haven’t seen in him in a long time. I’ve forgotten what he looks like when he’s not just a little bit scared. “Maybe I didn’t handle things right. I don’t know. But I meant what I said back then. It’s okay.”
“It’s okay.” I could still see Dad, five years ago, tears in his eyes as he gripped my shoulders. “If you remember something, you only tell me, okay? Whatever it is, it’s okay. I promise. But you can only tell me. Understand?”
I remembered looking at him, at the hard set of his mouth, at the wild desperation in his eyes, and realizing that he thought I killed Savvy. He was sure I killed Savvy, actually.
I guess five years hasn’t restored his faith in me. And who can blame him, honestly?
“Do you ever imagine bashing your parents’ brains in? I thought about that a time or two. That’s normal, right?”
“You’ll be my first call for sure,” I say, and turn to walk to my car.
Listen for the Lie Podcast with Ben Owens
EPISODE 4—“THE AMNESIA DEFENSE”
Savannah’s mother, Ivy Harper, hadn’t mentioned anything about Kathleen Chase confessing to her that Lucy had killed Savannah in our first interview, so I went to talk to her again. I asked her about those days right after the murder.
Ben: Thanks for sitting down with me again.
Ivy: Sure.
Ben: I’m trying to understand how Lucy became a suspect in Savannah’s murder. Can you walk me through it?
Ivy: I can try.
Ben: Did you see Lucy after Savannah died?
Ivy: Oh yes, of course.
Ben: When?
Ivy: We were at the hospital within ten minutes of her arriving. We wanted to find out what had happened to Savvy. They didn’t let us in, though. Not that day. We had to wait until the next day.
Ben: What happened when you went to see her?
Ivy: I begged her to tell me what had happened, but she just kept saying she didn’t remember. She was crying and crying … I felt bad for her at the time, but I was also incredibly frustrated. This was the only person in the world who could tell me what happened to Savvy, and she was just blubbering.
Ben: I— Right. So. Did you ever see her again after that?
Ivy: Many times.
Ben: Many times?
Ivy: I thought that it was best for me to keep going over there, keep pushing and letting her see how upset I was.
Ben: You already thought she did it at this point?
Ivy: I had my suspicions. There were the scratches on Savvy’s arm and the bruising that Lucy couldn’t explain. Then people started coming forward saying they were fighting at the wedding. And every time I went over to talk to Lucy, she was just … weird.
Ben: Weird?
Ivy: Hysterical. Just crying and shaking. It was odd, given that she’s a pretty stoic girl most of the time.
Ben: Did you get the impression that she was having any problems from her head injury?
Ivy: What kinds of problems?
Ben: With traumatic brain injuries, people often have trouble creating memories in the same way. Especially short-term memories. It can last for a long time after the injury.
Ivy: I really don’t know.
Ben: Did Lucy seem confused? Did she keep forgetting things? Besides the incident, I mean.
Ivy: Hmmm … she did, actually. I’d go over there and she’d start telling me all the things she’d told me last time. I thought she just really wanted me to know.
Ben: But at the time, you didn’t think that the injury could account for Lucy’s odd behavior? Ivy: Maybe. I can’t recall exactly. But, honestly, it doesn’t matter either way. It was after I saw how Don and Kathleen were acting that I knew for sure it was Lucy.
Ben: How were they acting?
Ivy: Suspicious. Don would hover while I asked Lucy questions. Kathleen left us alone, but Don acted very weird every time I went over there. He was outright hostile at first.
Ben: Hostile?
Ivy: He told me I was upsetting Lucy, that she’d been hurt too and I needed to wait to talk to her. Kathleen convinced him, but he would linger in the doorway and listen to everything. He never left us alone. I actually told the police about that.
Ben: About him lingering?
Ivy: Yeah. It struck me as … someone trying to make sure that his daughter doesn’t say the wrong thing. He was treating her like she was a child again. I started to think that Lucy had told him something and he was trying to protect her by making sure she didn’t tell anyone else. And then I think that the guilt got to Kathleen, and she said something.
Ben: What did she say?
Ivy: [long sigh] You know, I’ve kept this to myself, because I don’t blame Kathleen and Don. I really don’t. But once, when I went over to their house, Kathleen followed me outside after I finished talking to Lucy. And she gave me this really long hug, and when we pulled away, she was crying, and she said, “Just wait a little longer, okay? I’ll make this right.”
