walked to her room. Later, when I was climbing into my bed, I realized her face had been shiny, like she’d just washed it, and she’d smelled of soap. Her hair had also been brushed smooth, not messy like it was when she’d been sleeping. Had she just gotten home too? When I’d knocked earlier, before I left for the night, she hadn’t answered. Had she even been here, or had she snuck out? And if so, who had she met up with? That boy on the phone? I wondered if I should talk to her and find out what was going on, but she’d been so defensive earlier I had a feeling she wouldn’t tell me anything more now, and what was the point of another fight? She was home safe.
CHAPTER SEVEN
R OCKLAND P ENITENTIARY , V ANCOUVER
J UNE 1998
I got a letter from Ryan a couple of days after my dad visited. His lawyer had also given him the news about the verdict, but his letter was still full of hope. His parents were out of money so his mom was trying to find a legal aid lawyer to take our case to the Supreme Court. The private detective hadn’t turned up any new leads, but Ryan still thought something might break. The detective had told him about witnesses who came forward years later, cases where someone got arrested for a different crime and evidence linked them back to an unsolved murder, and Ryan was convinced the same thing would happen with our case. I’d speculated a lot about what had happened that night, whether it had been a drifter passing through, a random stranger, or someone we knew—someone she knew.
Those girls.
Shauna and her friends had lied at the trial, that I knew for sure, but I still didn’t know why , didn’t know if they’d really been there that night, or if it was all a lie. I’d also thought about the boy Nicole had been seeing, how she’d been acting that last while, like she was scared, and I wondered if he’d done it, if there was a link between them all. But the private investigator could never confirm Nicole had any boyfriends, secret or otherwise, and he couldn’t find any holes in the girls’ story. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling they were involved.
I’d also told the police about the boy after Nicole was murdered, and how Shauna and the girls had been harassing me all year, how they were lying about what they’d seen that night. I’d hoped for days that they would find the real killer. But then I realized that they weren’t even looking, and they sure weren’t looking now.
This time I didn’t cry after reading Ryan’s letter. I stared at the words. Don’t give up. It’s just a matter of time. I felt cold and hard. His hope made me angry. I was done falling apart each time something didn’t come through for us, done being reminded over and over of how much I’d lost. Couldn’t he see where we were now? That there was nothing left to hope for? No one was going to come forward with new evidence. The murderer wasn’t going to be found.
I thought about what Janet had said, that you had to let go of the past, of anyone on the outside. I was in prison now and I was going to be there for a long, long time. Ryan and I would never be allowed to be together again. Even if we were freed one day, we weren’t going to be the same people after years inside. I’d changed, and no doubt he was going to change. Too much had happened already. We didn’t even have anything to write about anymore. All we had were memories, and those were going to fade. Eventually, so would our love. The idea that anything good between us might die, might turn dark and bitter, killed me more than anything.
This time I didn’t write back. And when my father wrote a week later, I didn’t answer that letter either. I took down all the photos taped on my wall, even the ones of Nicole, and put them in my storage box. I couldn’t look at her face knowing that her killer, or killers, were still out there, couldn’t stop thinking about what kind of life she might’ve had, a husband, career,
CHAPTER SEVEN
R OCKLAND P ENITENTIARY , V ANCOUVER
J UNE 1998
I got a letter from Ryan a couple of days after my dad visited. His lawyer had also given him the news about the verdict, but his letter was still full of hope. His parents were out of money so his mom was trying to find a legal aid lawyer to take our case to the Supreme Court. The private detective hadn’t turned up any new leads, but Ryan still thought something might break. The detective had told him about witnesses who came forward years later, cases where someone got arrested for a different crime and evidence linked them back to an unsolved murder, and Ryan was convinced the same thing would happen with our case. I’d speculated a lot about what had happened that night, whether it had been a drifter passing through, a random stranger, or someone we knew—someone she knew.
Those girls.
Shauna and her friends had lied at the trial, that I knew for sure, but I still didn’t know why , didn’t know if they’d really been there that night, or if it was all a lie. I’d also thought about the boy Nicole had been seeing, how she’d been acting that last while, like she was scared, and I wondered if he’d done it, if there was a link between them all. But the private investigator could never confirm Nicole had any boyfriends, secret or otherwise, and he couldn’t find any holes in the girls’ story. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling they were involved.
I’d also told the police about the boy after Nicole was murdered, and how Shauna and the girls had been harassing me all year, how they were lying about what they’d seen that night. I’d hoped for days that they would find the real killer. But then I realized that they weren’t even looking, and they sure weren’t looking now.
This time I didn’t cry after reading Ryan’s letter. I stared at the words. Don’t give up. It’s just a matter of time. I felt cold and hard. His hope made me angry. I was done falling apart each time something didn’t come through for us, done being reminded over and over of how much I’d lost. Couldn’t he see where we were now? That there was nothing left to hope for? No one was going to come forward with new evidence. The murderer wasn’t going to be found.
I thought about what Janet had said, that you had to let go of the past, of anyone on the outside. I was in prison now and I was going to be there for a long, long time. Ryan and I would never be allowed to be together again. Even if we were freed one day, we weren’t going to be the same people after years inside. I’d changed, and no doubt he was going to change. Too much had happened already. We didn’t even have anything to write about anymore. All we had were memories, and those were going to fade. Eventually, so would our love. The idea that anything good between us might die, might turn dark and bitter, killed me more than anything.
This time I didn’t write back. And when my father wrote a week later, I didn’t answer that letter either. I took down all the photos taped on my wall, even the ones of Nicole, and put them in my storage box. I couldn’t look at her face knowing that her killer, or killers, were still out there, couldn’t stop thinking about what kind of life she might’ve had, a husband, career,
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