He sat there, frozen. Ice water filled his veins, and a creeping chill cascaded down his spine. “I don’t know, Angela. I just read about it online.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Barry.”
He leaned back in his seat and looked back at the door. Shadows belonging to the guards moved behind the door’s frosted window.
“Listen,” he said, folding his hands on the table. “I hate to rush things along, but I really don’t have much time. Your lawyer will be here soon and I doubt he’ll let me have a word once he’s here. So we have to be quick.”
She nodded. “What is it you want with me, Barry? Haven’t you ruined my life enough?”
Barry jerked his head as if she’d slapped him. “Ruined your life?”
“You set us up, didn’t you? You made us swap houses with that woman.”
Barry shook his head. “No, no. I didn’t make you switch houses with anyone. That was your choice. I just presented you with an offer, just like I’m doing today.”
She eyed the paperwork on the stretch of table between them.
Contracts. Lots of them.
“What is this?”
“I want to produce a new show. Starring you.”
Her face remained unchanged. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” he said, shifting in his seat, nervous energy pulsing through him. “I know you missed most of the entire season of Let’s Switch Houses!, you know, being in here and such. But let me tell you—it was a huge hit, Angela. Big time. Ratings were through the roof, one of the best seasons we ever had.”
She stared at him blankly.
“Anyway, I think a large part of the success was because of… well, you. And what happened. Current events. What you did—”
“Because I killed my husband and Rosalyn Jeffries?” Her eyebrows flared.
“Yes, partly because of that.”
Her eyes slimmed so he could see nothing of her pupils. “Because of what I did with my son?”
Barry nodded slowly. “Yes. The public was very interested in your confession. Obsessed is probably a better word. It’s the question that calls to them, you know.”
Puzzled, her mouth fell to one side of her face. “What question?”
“Well… the why. Why did she do it?”
“I told them why.”
“Yes, but that’s not really the truth. The whole truth anyway. I think there’s another reason why you gave away your son to a couple of complete strangers.”
Tears populated in the corners of her eyes. She brushed her nose with the back of her hand. “Because… I… I couldn’t deal anymore.”
“That answer doesn’t satisfy the public.” He shuffled around the papers before him, and then dug through his breast pocket for a pen. “Plus, there was the search for William. The one your parents headed.”
“The search?”
“Oh yes. They reopened the investigation and everything. For a while, it seemed like everyone in America was looking for your son. It was quite the hunt. I’m surprised your lawyer didn’t fill you in. The doctors?”
“They don’t talk about anything but my feelings and the case,” she replied listlessly, tears streaming down her face. “Doesn’t matter what they do. They’ll never find him.”
He glanced up from the papers. “No, they never did. In fact, they gave up after a few months. Trail went cold. Actually, the trail was never really warm to begin with. There are a few groups out there, real fans of the show, who still search.”
“How is he?”
The question took him by surprise. “How is who?” he asked cautiously.
“My other William.”
Barry’s eyes slid back and forth. “What other William?”
She eyed him closely. “The one I gave birth to six weeks ago.”
His eyes shot open. “Ohhhh. Yes. That. I almost forgot. The doctors did mention that to me.”
“How is he? Where is he? Is he with family? No one will talk to me about it.”
Barry folded his hands again, set them back down on the table. He sighed deeply, like a parent ready to dole out a severe punishment. “I know this is hard to hear, though, I suspect it’s not the first time you’ve been told, buuuuuut… there was no other William.”
Scoffing, she shook her head. “No, that’s not possible.”
“I’m afraid it is,” Barry said. “I hate to say this, but you were never pregnant.”
“No, I was. I was pregnant. I gave birth to another William. I remember it very clearly. The delivery went very well. No problems. Unlike the first time.”
“It’s all part of your psychosis, I’m afraid. You never had a second child. That day when you killed your husband and Rosalyn Jeffries, the authorities found pregnancy tests all over the bathroom. Thirty-seven I think the number was. All of them used. All of them showing negative results.”
“Terry saw it. He made me take it. He showed me the results. They were positive.”
“You’re wrong, Angela.”
“No, we were supposed to switch. The old William for the new. That was what Terry said; it was his idea. Ester Moore got to him. He killed Rosalyn Jeffries, Barry. Terry killed her because she was trying to help me—”
“Angela, your husband wasn’t at Rosalyn’s house that day. Only you were. He was at work. There were witnesses. Your DNA was all over the house. The mug of tea she gave you was all the evidence they needed.”
“No, he admitted it, Barry. He told me he did it.”
“You made it up, Angie. You made it all up in your head. You snapped after you saw the first episode of Switch! The guilt of what you did with your son was too much. You snapped, killed Rosalyn Jeffries, killed your husband, and here we are. I suspect if you weren’t chained to the floor, you’d probably kill me too.”
“No…”
“I’m sorry. It’s true. Every word of it.”
Catatonically, she stared at the man across from her. Her lips wriggled, unable to help produce any sounds.
“I know this is tough. I know your mental state of mind is fragile. So, let’s get to it. I want you to tell your story. To America. I’ve gotten permission from both state and federal officials to let us film portions of the trial. We also secured permission from the board of doctors at this facility, and they are giving us full access to you. Twenty-four-seven surveillance. All we need, Angie, is you. You can set the truth straight. I know you have a story to tell. About why you did what you did. To William. To your husband. About what happened in your house after the show. I know you have a story burning you up so badly you can’t sleep, can’t think, can’t eat. I know you need to purge. I know you need it, Angela, so…” He extends the pen in her direction. “…sign this. Please. We can help you with your trial, help you plead insanity. The studio has the best lawyers on the planet. Sign with us. We can help you get through this nightmare.”
She accepted the pen. “They’ll really listen to what I have to say?”
Dollar signs flashing before his eyes, he nodded. “Every word, sweetheart.”
“Even if it sounds crazy?”
“Especially if it sounds crazy.”
As she put the ink to paper, her face developed a spreading smile.
After she signed her life away, she glanced up at the ceiling. There was a small hole cut in the plasterboard, no bigger than a golf ball. She swore she saw an eyeball there, human flesh around the blinking orb.
She closed her own eyes, counted to ten, and opened them again, just like her team of doctors instructed.
The hole remained, but the eye was gone.
EPILOGUE II
(FAMILY MATTERS)