Page 75 of Count My Lies

Caitlin wasn’t trying to look like Violet; Violet was trying to look like Caitlin. She wanted Caitlin to look like her. And she wanted Caitlin and me together so people would think Caitlin was Violet Lockhart, my wife.It’s exactly what I hoped for.

I scramble to my feet and begin banging on my cell door. “Someone, help! I need help!”

I bang and bang until finally, there’s a loud buzzing and my door opens. A guard eyes me with irritation. “I need you to call my lawyer!” I say.

“It’s four in the morning,” the guard says. “You can call tomorrow.” The door slams shut again.

“No!” I yell. “No, wait!”

But no one comes back. I slump to the floor. Eventually, I lie back down on the mat, but I don’t sleep, wired. Violet is not dead. Not dead. Not dead. Not dead.

I’m pacing when a guard finally buzzes me out of my cell, tight figure eights around the small room. My whole body is pulsating, like how I feel after snorting a line, lightheaded and everything crystal clear.

As soon as I’m inside the interview room, uncuffed, I rush to Javier, grabbing his shoulders. “Violet isn’t dead!” I say. “Caitlin is! I mean, Sloane. Violet killed her!”

Javier takes a step back from me, straightens his suit jacket, thengestures to a chair. “Why don’t you sit down?” he says calmly. “Have you slept?” He touches me on the elbow, an attempt to steer me toward the table.

“No!” I jerk away. I know he thinks I’m crazy—I would, too; I know how I look, how I sound—but I’m sure I’m right. I’d bet my life.

“Listen,” I say, lowering my voice. “Violet is framing me. She shot Caitlin and said it was me. Now she’s pretending she’s Caitlin. That’s why she was dressing like she did. I thought maybe Caitlin was trying to be Violet, but it was the other way around! Can you bring her here?”

I’m breathing heavily now, panting almost, staring at him. He doesn’t have to believe me, he just has to hear me out, give me a chance to prove it.

Slowly, Javier shakes his head. “I can’t bring a witness to see you. Even if she agreed, which…”

Then something else hits me. The other thing nagging at me. “The M&M’S! You said you saw Caitlin giving Harper M&M’S. Violet gives those to Harper! As a reward! It was her—you probably didn’t realize it because she was dressed differently, but you have to believe me!”

“Jay, I’m not going to accuse Ms. Caraway of stealing your wife’s identity because she gave your daughter M&M’S. It’s—”

“She’s not Ms. Caraway!” I practically yell. “Didn’t you hear me? It’s Violet! Please, you have to find a way to meet with her! Or, no—I have a better idea! The body! Can you order a DNA test on the body? It’ll be Caitlin’s—Sloane’s, whatever her name is!”

“Jay, please sit down,” Javier says.

I do, even though I don’t want to. Underneath the table, my knee jiggles wildly. Javier takes a seat across from me. For a moment, he says nothing. Then, “The body was cremated yesterday.”

I stare at him.“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

It feels like I’ve been socked in the stomach. How did Violet orchestrate all of this? I begin to laugh in disbelief, a hysterical giggle that overtakes me. Thatbitch. She thinks she’s smarter than me; she always has. This was her chance to prove it. But I won’t let her. I sober, stop laughing as quickly as I started.

I set my jaw. “I want to go to trial,” I say.

“Jay—” Javier starts, reticent.

“No!” I interrupt. “If Caitlin is the only witness, then that means they’ll have to call her to the stand. Violet will have to show up.”

Javier takes a seat at the table. He sighs. “The prosecutor said they could offer twelve years if you take the plea,” he says. He doesn’t believe me. Not even a little bit.

I shake my head. “No. Do I need to hire another lawyer? I’m taking it to trial. With or without you.”

There’s a long silence. “If you want to go to trial, we’ll go to trial,” Javier says finally. “But it could take months, up to a year even, if not longer.”

“I don’t care.” I don’t care how long it takes. I will not let Violet get away with this. I will not let her take everything from me.

“Okay,” Javier says, nodding slowly. “I’ll let the prosecutor know. And if you change your mind—”

“I won’t,” I say.

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