Page 57 of She Didn’t See It Coming

Lizzie feels her face harden. “They wouldn’t approve of my going online and talking about Bryden’s murder. They would find it tasteless, unforgivable. They wouldn’t understand.”

“Why would they feel that way, if you’re only trying to help?” Lizzie doesn’t answer. “Is your parents’ approval so important to you?”

Lizzie glares back at the detective. “No, but I don’t want to hurt them unnecessarily.” She adds, “They’ve always disapproved of true crime. They think it’s—disgusting, unhealthy. ‘Prurient,’ my mother says. So I mostly hide it from them.”

“Did your sister share your interest in true crime?” the detective asks.

Lizzie shrugs. “No, she was more like my parents. She preferred more edifying things, like visiting art museums.”

“It must be especially awful for your parents, then, living through this, like something you’d see on Netflix.”

Lizzie pauses. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Maybe you think they wouldn’t approve of the fact that you seem to enjoy it so much, discussing your sister’s murder online.”

Lizzie feels her face burn. “I wouldn’t say I enjoy it,” she protests. “She was my sister. I want to know who killed her.”

“I’ve read everything on that Facebook group,” Detective Salter says. “And do you know what struck me?”

Lizzie can’t bring herself to look at the detective’s face. She can feel the sweat prickle in her armpits, is swamped in fear and shame.

“It struck me that maybe you were enjoying it a little too much.”

Lizzie shakes her head. “No.”

“I think you enjoyed being in the know . Pretending you knew someone in the police, so you could leak information without giving yourself away. Did that feel good, Lizzie?”

“No.”

“I bet it did.” The detective regards her, then nods at Kilgour. And now suddenly Detective Kilgour is reading her her rights, as she sits frozen in front of them. When he’s finished Salter asks, “Do you want a lawyer to be here with you?”

Lizzie considers it briefly. “No.”

“Okay,” Detective Salter says, and continues.

“I read your post from last night.” Now she leans forward again and picks up the sheet of paper and reads aloud: “?‘ all they had to do was knock on her door, force their way in, and hold a plastic bag over her face until she was dead. Easy enough to do, if you’re strong enough. If you take her by surprise. If she’s not expecting it at all and turns her back on you. ’?”

Lizzie stares back at the detective, unable to speak, to defend herself.

“It’s almost like you were there,” Detective Salter says. “Is that how it happened, Lizzie? Were you there?”

“What? No!” Lizzie gasps.

“You offer an explanation for why the body was moved.” She reads aloud again .

“?‘ And you have to ask, why move the body at all? Why not just leave her there, dead? Why bother putting her in a suitcase and taking her downstairs and risk being seen? I’ll tell you why. Because the killer didn’t want the little girl to come home and see her mother dead! It’s so obvious. ’?”

The detective stares at her. “Did you want the police dog because you knew your sister was there in the building? Did you know she was in the storage locker?”

“No, of course not,” Lizzie whispers.

“And you wanted her found, is that it?”

“No.”

“What were you doing looking at a YouTube video called Can Adrienne Fit in a Suitcase? ”

Lizzie whispers, “I did that after—after she was found.”

“Why did you write that post, Lizzie? It’s a little strange.”

Finally, she whispers, “I don’t know.”

“Do you know what I think? I think it’s possible that when your sister was murdered, you were unsettled, upset, you wanted to talk about it.

And you found your people, and you got carried away with the drama, the excitement of it all.

With being the center of attention. I mean, that’s perfectly understandable.

” She adds, “Even if your parents can’t understand it, I can. ”

Lizzie feels herself nodding silently along as the detective speaks to her in her calm, quiet voice.

“We know that you and your sister didn’t always get along.”

“That’s not true.”

“Sam told us,” the detective says.

“What? What did he say?”

“He said that sometimes you almost seemed to hate your sister, and that Bryden was troubled by it and didn’t know what to do about it.”

“That’s not true. Sisters fight sometimes, that’s all.”

“Had you fought with your sister recently?”

“No!”

“Were you jealous of her, Lizzie? Of her luxury apartment, her handsome husband, and adorable child?” She gives her a penetrating stare. “Or—the unthinkable—did you kill your sister so that you’d have something to talk about online? Is that what happened?”

···

Donna paces the apartment nervously until Lizzie returns home. When she finally hears the door open, she starts as if a gun has gone off. Donna watches her younger daughter drop her purse and her keys and come into the living room. She looks as if she’s made of glass and that she might shatter.

“What is it, Lizzie?” Donna asks. She glances at her husband, but he’s staring with concern at their daughter.

Lizzie drops into an armchair. She swallows.

“Honey,” Jim tries, “are you okay?”

“No.” She looks back at them, her eyes large in her pale face. “They seem to think I killed Bryden.”

Donna stares back at her younger daughter. It’s as if time has been suspended. She forgets to breathe. Her mind is a perfect storm, all her fears coalescing. She can’t speak.

But her husband can. “What the hell are you talking about?” His voice is strange.

“I—I’m in this Facebook group,” Lizzie begins, flushing, her voice wobbling.

“I’ve been in it for a while. I know you won’t approve—it’s a true crime group.

” She takes a deep breath and continues.

“I’ve been posting about Bryden since she went missing.

” She glances up at them. “Because I wanted to find out what happened to her, that’s all!

It’s harmless, and I thought it could actually be helpful!

” Her voice rises and she speaks more quickly.

“But, I don’t know, Detective Salter has been reading it all, and now she’s got some screwed-up idea that maybe I killed Bryden! ”

“Why would she think that?” Jim asks, now in a controlled voice. Donna still can’t seem to breathe.

“I don’t know.”

“You’d better show us this Facebook group.”

“I don’t want to.”

So that’s what she’s been doing in her room, Donna thinks, feeling dizzy and sick. She’s been online in this group, talking about her sister’s murder. How vile. She finally finds her voice. “Lizzie, why would Detective Salter think you did it?”

Lizzie looks back at her, her eyes wide. “Sam told them that I hated Bryden. But you know that’s not true! Why would he say that? And now Detective Salter thinks I hated her and that I killed her so that I could talk about it online!”

Donna finds herself looking back at her daughter in horror.

Jim stands up slowly, with determination, although all the color has left his face. “You’re going to show us this Facebook page. Now.”