“I said, ‘I don’t understand.’
“ ‘I’ve been thinking about this for years,’ Emma said. ‘Whenever he beat me. Whenever he choked me until I passed out. Whenever he said he was sorry and promised that it would never happen again and that he loved me. Whenever he told me he’d hunt me down and kill me if I ever left. What . . . what if I killed Clyde and buried him and just took the money and ran someplace I knew was safe? What if I made amends, you know, for what I’d done to you girls? You have those fantasies, don’t you, Candi? About running away?’ ”
Matt said, “And you did.”
Olivia held up her index finger. “With one difference. I said before that my life already felt over. I disappeared in my books. I tried to keep upbeat. I imagined something different. Because I had something to hold on to. Look, I don’t want to make too much of that night in Vegas. But I thought about it, Matt. I thought about the way you made me feel. I thought about the world you lived in. I remember everything you said—about your family, about where you grew up, about your friends and your school. And what you didn’t know, what you still don’t understand, is that you were describing a place I couldn’t let myself imagine.”
Matt said nothing.
“After you left that night, I can’t tell you how many times I thought of trying to find you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She shook her head. “You of all people should understand shackles.”
He nodded, afraid to answer.
“Didn’t matter anymore,” Olivia said. “It was too late for any of that now. Even with shackles, like you said, we had to act. So we came up with a plan. It was simple, really. First, we rolled Clyde’s body up in a blanket and dumped it in the back of the car. We padlocked the Pen. Emma knew a place. Clyde had dumped at least two bodies there, she said. Out in the desert. We buried him in a shallow grave, way out in this no-man’s-land. Then Emma called the club. She made sure all the girls were made to work overtime, so that none of them would be able to go back to the Pen.
“We stopped at her place to shower. I stepped under the warm water and thought, I don’t know, I thought it would be weird, showering off the blood, like something out of Macbeth.”
A wan smile crossed her face.
“But it wasn’t like that?” Matt asked.
Olivia shook her head slowly. “I had just buried a man in the desert. At night the jackals would dig him up and feast. Carry his bones away. That’s what Emma told me. And I didn’t care.”
She looked at him as if daring him to challenge her.
“So what did you do next?”
“Can’t you guess?”
“Tell me.”
“I . . . I mean, Candace Potter was nothing. There was no one to even notify in the event of her untimely death. Emma as her employer and almost guardian called the police. She said that one of her girls had been murdered. The police arrived. Emma showed them Cassandra’s body. The ID was already in her pocket. Emma identified the body and confirmed that it belonged to one of her girls, Candace ‘Candi Cane’ Potter. There was no next of kin. No one questioned it. Why should they? Why would anyone make something like this up? Emma and I split the money. I got over fifty grand. Can you imagine? All the girls at the club had fake IDs anyway, so getting a new one was no problem for me.”
“And you just ran off?”
“Yes.”
“What about Cassandra?” Matt asked.
“What about her?”
“Didn’t anyone wonder what happened to her?”
“We had a million girls come and go. Emma told everyone she’d quit—been spooked off by the murder. Two other girls got scared and ran off too.”
Matt shook his head, trying to wrap his brain around all this. “When I met you the first time, you used the name Olivia Murray.”
“Yes.”
“You went back to that name?”
“That was the only time I used it. With you that night. Did you ever read A Wrinkle in Time?”
“Sure. In fifth grade, I think.”
“When I was a kid, it was my favorite book. The protagonist was named Meg Murray. That’s how I came up with the last name.”
“And Olivia?”
She shrugged. “It sounded like the direct opposite of Candi.”
“So then what happened?”
“Emma and I made a pact. We would never tell anyone the truth—no matter what—because if one of us talked, it could lead to the death of the other. So we swore. I need you to understand how solemnly I made that promise.”
Matt was not sure what to say to that. “Then you went to Virginia?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it was where Olivia Murray lived. It was far away from Vegas or Idaho. I made up a background story. I took courses at the University of Virginia. I didn’t officially attend, of course, but this was in the days before strict security. I just sat in on classes. I hung out in the library and cafeteria. I met people. They just figured I was a student. A few years later, I pretended to graduate. I got a job. I never looked back or thought about Candi. Candace Potter was dead.”
“And then, what, I came along?”
“Something like that, yeah. Look, I was a scared kid. I ran away and tried to make a life for myself. A real one. And the truth is, I had no interest in meeting a man. You hired DataBetter, remember?”
Matt nodded. “I do.”
“I’d had enough of that in my life. But then I saw you and . . . I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to go back to the night we met. To some silly dream. You scoff at the idea of living out here, Matt. You don’t see that this place, this town, this is the best possible world.”
“And that’s why you want to move out here?”
“With you,” she said, her eyes imploring. “Don’t you see? I never bought that soul-mate stuff. You see what I’ve seen and . . . but maybe, I don’t know, maybe our wounds work for us. Maybe the suffering gives us a better appreciation. You learn to fight for what others just take for granted. You love me, Matt. You never really believed I was having an affair. It’s why you kept digging for that proof—because despite what I’m telling you here, you and you alone really know me. You’re the only one. And yes, I want to move out here and raise a family with you. That’s all I want.”
Matt opened his mouth, but no words came out.