I knew I shouldn’t believe him. But the thing was, I did. Because Jimmy Ray, for all his casual violence, had a set of rules he lived by, just like everyone else. And killing two twelve-year-old girls violated those rules. He could live with beating his girlfriends until they bled, with hooking kids on meth and heroin, with gunning down his competition and leaving them in the woods to rot. But killing two kids in the park? He’d have a hard time looking in the mirror after that. Because, at the end of the day, Jimmy Ray still thought of himself as one of the good guys.

“Enough of this,” he said, took a step closer to me. “That the only reason you came here? To accuse me of some bullshit? Or you got something else in mind?” He pushed even closer, the heat of his body leaching into mine. “Because you’re looking good, Evie. Real good.” He ran his hand down my arm, and God help me, my stomach still flipped. Even after everything. For a moment, I considered taking him up on it. Junie was gone. What did it matter? I could let Jimmy Ray beat me all day and fuck me all night and no one would get hurt but me. If I was aiming for self-destruction, Jimmy Ray was the fastest, most obvious choice. But I still owed Junie some justice, and a detour with Jimmy Ray wouldn’t get me where I needed to go. The moment passed, and I took a step backward.

“You don’t know anything about it?” I pressed and saw the way Jimmy Ray’s fist folded into a knot. I didn’t think he’d hit me here, in front of everyone, not least of all because he preferred hitting women who were attached to him. That way he could watch the painful aftermath, make us beg for his forgiveness and ask for a second chance. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying to punch someone who could turn and walk away. But I steeled myself anyway, readied myself for a blow. Welcomed it almost.

Jimmy Ray shook his head, spoke through a clenched jaw. “All I know is I didn’t do it,” he said. Which, when I thought about it later, didn’t really answer my question at all.

SEVEN

The smell of stale smoke woke me in the morning, and it took me a few bleary-eyed seconds to realize the stench was from my own hair. I could imagine the way those strippers smelled after a night in the club, although smoke might be the least offensive scent they had to deal with. I rolled over with a groan, squinting against the sunlight that pierced through my curtains and jabbed into my eyes. I hadn’t had more than that single sip of beer last night, but my whole body throbbed like I was nursing the world’s worst hangover. Even my skin ached. Maybe it was grief, oozing out through my pores. My body had suffered when Junie came into the world. It seemed only fitting that it suffered when she left.