“Hey, what’s up?”
“Zack. I just got off the phone with my lab. I...they found Lauren’s DNA at your house. It’s a part of the evidence Starr brought from Nashville.”
“What?”
“I know, it’s kind of hard to believe.” A branch starts to wave, scratching up against the deck. “I’m stunned. I don’t know what this means, or how, or why, but I have to find out what’s happening.”
“You said you were from Murfreesboro. How old was Lauren when you moved?”
“Sixteen. Seventeen. I don’t know.”
“Did she ever get treatment for depression?”
“What? No. Not that I know of. I was a kid, Zack. Why?”
“Vivian hid her world from me. Lauren’s been lying to you. I just wondered if they knew each other.”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to go back to the hospital. I’ll talk to her, figure this out.”
Juliet hears the whine of an engine, then the crunch of gravel.
“Never mind. She’s here. I see the car. She’s pulling in the drive.”
There’s a new urgency in his voice, and he’s louder, more commanding. “I’m on my way. Do not confront her alone.”
“Zack, it will be fine. This is my sister. There’s an explanation, I know there is. She can’t be responsible for this.”
“Juliet. Wait for me to get there to talk to her.”
“Gotta go. I’ll talk to you shortly.”
“Juliet, no. Wait for me. You’re not—” But she hangs up as Lauren pulls to a stop and gets out of the car. Looks up at the deck. She seems dazed, exhausted, and despite herself, Juliet feels the urge to comfort her.
“You okay?” Juliet calls down. “I thought you were sticking close to the hospital.”
“I wasn’t feeling well. I came to get some medicine.”
“I’m sorry. But I’m glad you’re here. We need to talk. Come on up. I’ll make you some peppermint tea.”
Juliet goes back inside, closes the door to the deck firmly. She turns on the fireplace with a click of the remote, fills the electric kettle, pulls out the teapot, finds the honey she loves. A cup won’t hurt her, either, her stomach is churning. Lauren in Nashville? Why? How? And what does it mean?
Worse, what did she do?
73
They sit face-to-face in the dining room, their elegant china cups in saucers on the thick wooden table. A tea party. Juliet has the page she’s printed out facedown, one hand on top of it as if she can contain its truth if it stays hidden. Lauren sips her tea, quiet and still. She doesn’t look ill. She looks...watchful. As if she knows what’s to come.
Juliet sets her cup on the saucer with an audible conk. Her hands are shaking. She has never seen her sister’s face so carefully blank, and it’s freaking her out. But she must get to the bottom of this. Lauren knows more than she is saying.
Juliet takes a deep, steadying breath. She should let Woody and Parks do this. She knows this. But it’s her sister. Her sister.
“I know you’re stressed about Mindy, but we have a problem. And we don’t have much time. You need to tell me the truth, Lauren. Your honesty is the only way I’m going to be able to help you.”
“What are you talking about?”
Juliet flips the paper over. “Your DNA was found at the Vivian Armstrong crime scene.”
“Impossible.”
Juliet smiles grimly. “That’s what I said. They ran it four times. I’ve looked at the results myself. There’s no mistake, Lauren. You were there. The police are going to come for you, and they aren’t going to be as open and willing to hear your story as I am.”
Lauren sits back in her chair, regards her sister. She crosses her arms over her chest. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a fact. Lauren. For God’s sake, how did your DNA get there? If you tell me the truth I might be able to help you, figure out a plausible story.”
Lauren laughs, oddly hollow, plastic. It is a stranger’s laugh, cruel and mocking. Fear skitters down Juliet’s spine. When Lauren speaks, it is in a stranger’s voice. No affect. No warmth. Unrecognizable.
“You’re offering to help me lie to the police? Why, Juliet, I didn’t know you had it in you. You’re so straitlaced. So perfect.” She spits out the last word, and Juliet hears the years of resentment. She has never understood why Lauren despises her so much.
“I am far from perfect, but, Lauren, you’re my sister. Mindy is my niece. I’m trying to protect this family, what’s left of it, anyway. Tell me the truth. Did you kill Vivian Armstrong?”
“You can’t possibly think I’m going to fall to my knees and give you a grand confession.” Lauren sighs and pushes back from the table. “I need more tea for this. You?” She doesn’t wait for Juliet to answer, snags her cup and steps into the kitchen. Juliet lets her, knows she’s gathering herself. She saw the lies beginning to form in Lauren’s eyes moments before she stood up. She’s thinking. She’s planning what she’s going to say. How she’s going to spin this vicious truth.
The realization of this is worse than knowing her sister’s DNA is at the scene of a violent crime. Juliet knows nothing that comes from Lauren’s mouth from here on out will be the truth, and the realization creates a fissure inside of her. Her sister is a murderer. A kidnapper. And what else?
Lauren comes back like a hostess serving a party—teapot on the tray, the two cups aligned, the local honey she knows Juliet loves, shortbread. Bribes, a tray of bribes.
“I didn’t add any honey since you always say I short you. Here’s the whole jar. Are you hungry? I’m famished.” She takes her cookies and tea and strides to the fireplace.
Juliet watches her for a minute, then shrugs and puts a dollop of honey in her tea. Lauren never does sweeten it properly. Stirs, tastes. It is overly sweet, but she tops off the cup from the teapot and sips some more. Better, but not perfect.
“Lauren, I want to know what the hell happened in Nashville.”
“Yes,” Lauren says, almost to herself. “Knowing you, I have to tell you something, or you’re going to go screw up everything I’ve spent my life building.”
She comes back to the table, sits heavily across from Juliet. “It’s time for you to know the truth. Yes, Vivian and I knew each other. We met years ago, in Nashville. We were friends in our teens, kept up with each other after we moved to Colorado. She helped me through the divorce, the miscarriage. She was pregnant too, at the time. We supported each other, and once she was the only one carrying a child, I supported her. And then she got sick. Sick enough that she knew she was going to die. She asked me to keep Mindy safe for her. She was afraid of what Zack would do to the girl.”
“Afraid of Zack? He’s the dad.”
“He’s a stone-cold killer. She told me time and again how afraid she was of him. How she hoped he’d die in combat and never come back because she never knew when he’d forget who she was in the middle of the night and slit her throat. She was terrified of him coming home permanently. She was scared to death what he would do to the baby, what—”
“We’re talking about the same Zack Armstrong, right? My God, Lauren, he’s one of the kindest, gentlest men I’ve ever met.”
“You know nothing about him. And you would be well advised to cut off whatever little romance you’re having with him because he is not safe. Not at all.”
“Romance? I’ve known him less than a week.”
“I see how he looks at you. And how you look at him. You think no one notices, but I’ve seen it all.”
Juliet hears the bitterness in Lauren’s voice, but presses onward.
“There is nothing going on. Now tell me what in the world you’re saying about Vivian Armstrong being afraid of him.”
“Drink your tea, it’s getting cold.”
Juliet takes a sip, even though the mint with the honey isn’t a good combination.