“I don’t believe you.”
“Haven’t you ever wondered why you and Mom weren’t close? She always resented you. I was her favorite, and I had to go to that place, and she was stuck with you. I was the one who suffered all his attention. I was the one who got pregnant. I was the one who sacrificed my life. All because we had to protect sweet, innocent little Juliet.”
“Was there a trial? Were you convicted?” A connection forms. “Wait, you were pregnant?”
“I miscarried.”
Juliet feels uncomfortably warm. Something is wrong. And at this point, she has no idea what to believe, whether this is plausible or not, when another, even more horrid thought hits her. I’ve handled threats to this family before.
And it all comes together for her. The rage, the sadness. Her infertile sister, already off balance, who would do anything to have a child to love.
“You met Vivian Armstrong in the hospital, didn’t you? You stayed friends with her all those years, and when the time came, you murdered her and stole her child for your own. You sicken me.”
Lauren waves her hand like a queen to a crowd. “You are nothing to me.”
“Is that why Detective Gorman came out here, because you killed our stepfather, and he figured it out and tracked you down? He knew you were tied to Vivian. He knew about Mindy. He came to confront you, and you killed him.”
The serene smile doesn’t leave Lauren’s face, though one edge of her lip quirks. There is pride in her face, in her smile. Pride at stopping the threat to her family.
“Oh, my God, Lauren. What have you done? Who are you?”
“Gorman was in the way. It was the most expedient thing to do. I’ve spent my life clearing a path for Mindy to have the world. Now that she’s received the stem cells, she’s going to be healed, and get back on her skis, and she’s going to have an incredible life. Just as she should. And if anyone tries to hurt her, or stop her, I will make sure they are taken care of.”
Juliet sits heavily.
“You’re mad. You’re absolutely insane.”
“I’m the sanest person you’ll ever talk to, little sister. I have my priority, and it’s my daughter. It’s always been Mindy. Everything I’ve done for the past seventeen years has been for her.”
“What do you think Mindy will feel like when she finds out her mother is a murderer?”
“She will never know.”
“No? How are you going to assure that? Kill everyone involved? Murder the CBI team and the Nashville detectives? It’s too late, Lauren. The DNA proves it. They already know what you did.”
Lauren’s face doesn’t change. She continues watching Juliet with her pasted-on Mona Lisa smile.
“This is ridiculous. I refuse to listen to any more lies. I’m leaving, right now.”
“Are you?”
Juliet’s heart is racing. The warmth she felt earlier is spreading. Her feet feel like lead. She can’t lift them. Her knees are locked, her mouth dry. Spots swim in her vision. Her head feels so heavy.
“What have you done, Lauren?” Her voice is thick, her tongue too big for her mouth. Saliva begins to flow; she can’t stop it, she’s drowning. The room is spinning, spinning.
“As I said, I will do whatever is necessary to keep my daughter safe.”
“So you’re trying to kill me?”
The smile turns sad, and Lauren gestures to the cups on the table. Juliet turns to look at them, but the thoughts won’t come. She barely hears Lauren’s next words.
“Oh, sister. You’re already dead.”
Juliet crashes to the floor.
74
Zack hangs up with Juliet, a terrible feeling of dread spreading through him. Lauren at the crime scene is unfathomable. And yet...her attachment to Mindy, her fierce protectiveness, the lack of friends, the practical isolation of the child, the claustrophobia of their relationship—Lauren spending weeks refusing to leave her side until forced to do so and not allowing visitors—it all makes an obscene kind of sense, and leads him to a frightening conclusion.
Lauren murdered Vivian and stole their baby for her own.
This thought alone is enough to propel him straight to the Wrights’ house, but he is on foot. He has no car, and there is no question of trying to make it up the mountain in anything but a vehicle.
He turns in circles, assessing, looking. There are people around. He can ask someone heading into the garage, pay them if necessary. And while he’s doing it, he can call a cab or an Uber. See which reaches him first.
Bolting off the porch with Kat at his side, he notices a man with a long-focus lens camera standing down the brick-lined alley. Two steps later his mind registers what his eyes have just seen. The face is familiar, but it’s the red baseball cap worn backward that identifies him. Zack saw him this morning in the parking lot, sitting in his car, taking shots of the hospital.
A reporter.
Zack about-faces, darts down the alley toward the man, who sees him charging and starts backing up, horror on his face, one hand out as if that will stop the onslaught of frantic man and angry dog.
“Hey. Hey! I need your help.”
“Dude, I’m just here taking pictures. No harm, no foul.”
“You’re a reporter. I saw you at the hospital. I need a ride. It’s an emergency.”
“Is it Mindy?”
Zack starts to say no but realizes this may be the most expedient way of getting what he needs. “Yes, it’s Mindy. Her mother is at the house, she just called and said there’s a problem and can I meet her there. I don’t have a ride. Can you get me up the mountain?”
“To the Wrights’ place? Shit, dude, for a price, sure.”
“What’s the price?” Zack reaches for his wallet. There is no time to negotiate. He has to get to Juliet.
“I don’t want money, man. Interview.”
“Fine. Fine. It’s a deal. Let’s go.” Zack starts toward the garage, but the photographer points down the alley.
“My car’s right over here. I know the gate security agent, he let me park it by the village entrance.”
They are in the car—a small green Subaru Impreza with a ski rack on top, the back full of equipment, technical and ski—and rolling away less than a minute later. Kat is perched in the backseat, legs at angles, balancing against the sharp, fast turns.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
The reporter adjusts his Maui Jim sunglasses. “Actually, dude, yeah. I’ve been scoping the story for a while now, trying to get Mindy alone to talk to me.” He seems unembarrassed by this blatant greed. Zack wants to punch him but has a feeling even violence won’t stop the kid.
The car zooms around the circle, and they are climbing. Zack wants to jam the car into fifth and make it go faster. Whatever is happening, it’s happening now, and he needs to get there.
“Could you hurry?”
“I’m going as fast as is smart, dude. The roads are still icy up high. I’d rather not plunge off the side of the mountain.”
“Who are you even with? You don’t exactly have the corporate vibe.”
The kid grins, puts out a hand. “Bode Greer, at your service. I work for Ski Magazine. I did the profile on Mindy a couple of months ago. We got along. I figured I have as good a chance as anyone to get in to talk to her. I think she dug me.”
The smug, knowing smile is enough to make Zack’s blood pressure rise. He knows exactly what Greer means. He gives the boy—he is only a boy, in his early twenties, handsome, carefree—a long look. He is shocked to hear himself say, “You aren’t getting anywhere near my daughter, young man.”
If he wasn’t so scared, so witlessly terrified, this sudden surge of protectiveness would make him laugh. But as it is, he knows only one thing. It is paramount that he protects Mindy. From the reporters. From Jasper. From Lauren. Hell, even from Juliet. He needs to get her separated from the entire world here, all the people who have been using her and riding her coattails and forcing her into the daily servitude of being a world-class athlete. She needs peace to heal, time to get to know her real family.
Vivian, help me. Help me save our girl.