Chapter 17

I met Dotty in the security line for the courthouse.

I didn't sleep the night before the trial. I couldn't stop envisioning the moment when William and I would see each other for the first time, our eyes meeting across the rows of spectators. He would mouth something sweet like I love you and I would understand his lips implicitly, though it would be impossible for us to hear each other at such a distance.

I worried that he wouldn't find me beautiful in person.

I got out of bed at four in the morning and stared at my face in the bright, unforgiving light of the hotel bathroom, wishing that I'd gotten one of those facials where they stripped the skin down to its base, and had my teeth whitened and my hair dyed. I'd stupidly thought that my gray hairs were cute and that my slightly crooked bottom teeth gave me character. What an idiot I was. William didn't want a crunchy girl who wore cotton dresses with pockets, or so I assumed. He wanted someone like Anna Leigh, a woman capable of taming every hair into its proper place. A woman worthy of being murdered.

"Don't you look nice" was the first thing that Dotty said to me. She held out her hand for a shake.

She could've said anything after that and I still would've wanted to be friends with her.

Dotty lived in the suburbs of Nashville and had seen William's picture on the evening news and was immediately smitten. She'd since separated from her husband and was at risk of losing custody of her two kids because of all the time that she spent fixated on William.

"It's just not right," her husband said. "Exposing them to someone like that."

She showed me a picture of her husband once. He wore a polo shirt embossed with the logo of his favorite college football team, a beer belly making an appearance through the fabric. It was clear that his hair was starting to thin and that he hadn't yet accepted this thinning and thus kept it longer than was flattering on top.

"He used to be so hot," Dotty said. "I don't know what happened."

Dotty's evaluation of her husband was the same opinion that I had of Dotty herself. She had a fake tan and was thin in a way that made me think that she worked for it. She wore a flowy shirt and strappy sandals and donned a complete face of makeup.

Under different circumstances, I might've been threatened by Dotty's obsession with William, but that first day in front of the courthouse I could only be grateful.

She told me later that she knew I was in love with William because of my earrings.

"No one wears something that sparkles like that for someone they don't care about impressing," she said.

I, in turn, knew that she was in love with William because the second thing she said to me was "You're here for him, aren't you?" Our eyes met in understanding and I nodded.

Surrounding the line were protestors holding signs condemning William for his actions.

GIVE HIM THE DEATH PENALTY, said one sign.

JUSTICE FOR ANNA LEIGH, said another.

JILL'S WORKOUT PLAN, said a third, with fake blood smeared across the black text.

"A lot of ruckus out here," Dotty said.

"Yeah," I replied, scanning the crowd.

I knew from their posts that there were members of the forum amongst them. I took solace in the fact that no one had seen a picture of my face or knew my real name. They didn't yet know the ways in which I'd betrayed them.

My body buzzed with energy. I imagined that I could've held a lightbulb in my hand and lit it with the anticipation that leaked from my pores.

"I hope we get in," I said, trying to peer at the line ahead of us.

I was grateful for the security precautions even as I resented them. There were people who wanted to kill William. Families in mourning, women enraged, men seeking a way to atone for their own sins. Aside from the very real crimes he'd likely committed, William was a scapegoat for all kinds of things.

"We'll kill someone for a seat if we have to," Dotty said and winked at me.

When we finally reached security, I nervously placed my bag on the scanner. I watched as William's letters slid away from me on the conveyor belt. I wondered if the security guards could see the words written through the X-ray screen. In addition to the packet of letters, I'd also brought my notebook so that I could write to William while watching the trial. There was something romantic about writing to someone who was in the same room as me, yet not allowed to speak.

Inside the courtroom, Dotty and I managed to find two seats toward the back. I scanned the room around us. The whole thing felt like an inverse wedding ceremony. The family and friends of the victims gathered together toward the front. I recognized from Jill's social media accounts Jill's mother and sister, who were seated near Tripp and Anna Leigh's parents. In another part of the courtroom was a cluster of journalists who scribbled away on notepads.

William's family sat behind the defense's table.

From all of his descriptions, I expected William's parents to appear obviously cruel. Instead, his father was the kind of handsome that lasted deep into middle age. His mother had sharp features and wore big jewelry that was visible from all the way in the back of the courtroom. William's brother, Bentley, was a taller version of William himself. Next to him was a petite woman who I presumed was his wife. For understandable reasons, their two kids were nowhere to be found.

Despite being at a murder trial for his son, people were deferential toward William's father. Men came up to him and shook his hand and he greeted each visitor genially. If he was nervous, he didn't show it.

I, on the other hand, was a wreck. While Dotty chatted away about her kids (Jaxon and Avery), her ongoing beef with her hairdresser ("I can't go somewhere new; she's the only one that can get the coloring right"), and finally William ("There's just something about him"), I grew increasingly anxious, certain that my rib cage would crack open, exposing the heart beneath, if I had to wait much longer for his arrival.

Dotty was talking about her son's baseball league ("You would think those kids were getting paid, the way some people act") when a murmur spread across the crowd. William had arrived.

The previous year I'd attended a friend's wedding and found myself getting misty-eyed when she rounded the corner and entered the courtyard where the ceremony was taking place. It wasn't that she looked so beautiful, though she did, but rather the enormity of emotion that brought tears to my eyes. It didn't matter that I didn't really know or trust her fiancé—all that mattered was the idea of love.

William's entrance was like that, a bride entering their own wedding. I hoped that my carefully applied eyeliner didn't smear as tears welled up in my eyes. Finally, my boyfriend and I in the same space together. The moment that I'd been waiting for, that pulsed within me as I drove across the country and that I lay awake fantasizing about the night before.

The suit he wore was of a cut similar to that of the one he'd been wearing when he was arrested, but was a slightly different color. He looked thin and I recalled a comment he'd made about the poor quality of the food in jail.

I stared at him desperately.

Look at me,I thought.

Please, please. Look at me.

There were too many people, too many journalists, mourning family and friends, all vying for his attention, for me to become visible through the crowds. My disappointment was palpable. A Gusher squeezed until all the filling spilled out.

Suddenly, my dress was all wrong. My bright red lipstick a smear across my face rather than a perfect pout. It was wrong, all wrong. Nothing like the moment that I'd imagined in my head.

Had I made a mistake? It wasn't too late to get in the car and drive home. I wouldn't even have to break up with William. All I had to do was stop responding. My hand was on my purse. I was ready to go right then and there. Meghan was right. It'd been a stupid idea to drive to Georgia to attend the trial of a man that I'd never met, one who was accused of perpetrating enormous acts of violence against women.

Then, right before he sat down, William turned and his eyes met mine. I detected a tiny smile, a knowing blink. He didn't mouth any words because he didn't need to. I already knew everything that he had to say.

The eye contact lasted for only a second and yet, it was everything.

There he was. My boyfriend. My love. The man who may or may not have been guilty of serial murder. For better or for worse, I was there with him. For his sake and mine, I was going to help uncover the truth.