“Yes.It’s just audio.”
“How many questions?”
“Twenty,” Slate said.
“I’ll answer five.”
“Ten.”
She sat down on the bench, compliant, and Slate pulled up a desk chair.He took his phone out of his pocket to record the conversation.He had reddish-brown hair, ruddy cheeks, and a good-natured attitude.
“For the record, I wasn’t aiming at you,” she said.
“No harm done.”He pressed the record button.“What’s your full name?”
“Meredith Ann Rose.What’s yours?”
“Raymond Slate.”
“Pleased to meet you, Raymond.”
“Likewise,” he said.“What’s your relationship with Tripp Gilley?”
“I thought he was my husband.We went to a small chapel outside of Nashville and exchanged vows when I was eighteen.Later, when I tried to get a divorce, I found out we weren’t legally married.”
Slate frowned at this detail.“How did you meet him?”
“I was a waitress at the Blue Moon Café in Memphis.He played at the juke joint across the street.”
“Did you inspire the song ‘Poison Rose’?”
“Yes.”
“What was his creative process like?How did the idea come to him?”
Meredith stroked Chico’s head, considering.She hadn’t been able to share the entire story with Wade.Telling it now, from the bleak confines of a jail cell, wasn’t her first choice, but she was tired of lying.Tired of running.
“His creative process, for that song, involved throwing me into a coffee table.I wanted to attend my sister’s high school graduation ceremony.I was packing a bag to leave when he attacked me.I don’t remember it all, due to the head injury.I know he pushed me.I woke up in a pile of broken glass, and he was strumming his guitar.He wrote the melody while he was waiting for me to come to.”
Slate paused the recording and took a deep breath.“I don’t know if I can post this.I might have to edit that part out.”
“Suit yourself,” Meredith said.She wasn’t as devastated by the confession as she’d anticipated.It felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.She didn’t care if only the two of them heard the story.
“He knocked you unconscious and wrote a song aboutyoubeing poison.”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel when you hear it?”
“Sick to my stomach.Broken inside.”
“Is he the reason you disappeared?”
“Yes.I left him two years ago and went into hiding.That’s where I’ve been this whole time.”
After a moment, Slate started recording again.“One more question.”
Meredith nodded her agreement.
