A low moan starts from the corner of the room. Jasper, crooning, begging.
But Lauren ignores him. Stockton is speaking, the Miranda warning this time, so he won’t have to throw out her confession, then makes her say it all again while he writes everything down, looking around the room as if making sure everyone there is hearing her confession. This is gold, she knows. This is going to make his career. Not only has he caught Lauren Wright, but he is also getting her to confess. Without a lawyer present, on painkillers, any decent lawyer could have a shot at getting it thrown out, but still. She offers to sign the confession.
“Lauren, stop, I’m begging you.” The plaintive cry from Jasper almost breaks her resolve, but she shuts out his pleas. It is time for all the truths to come to light. They can only put her to death once, after all. She takes a deep breath. The room quiets in anticipation.
“And I would also like to confess to murdering Detective Gorman. He threatened my family, threatened my daughter, threatened to put me in jail, and I pushed him off the side of a mountain.”
89
THREE DAYS LATER
“Tell me. Do you think she’s telling the truth?”
Zack Armstrong is sitting by Juliet’s hospital bed, absently stroking her hand. Parks is standing by the window, leaning back against the windowsill, his legs crossed at the ankles. He is tired. It has been a long three days since Lauren’s confession, full of paperwork and interviews. Cases to close. Widows, and widowers, to speak with.
“Why would she confess to something if she didn’t do it?”
“I don’t know.” Zack runs a hand over his face. He looks as tired as Parks feels. Parks knows he’s been here nonstop for the past three days, cycling between floors, spending time with Mindy, then Juliet, then Mindy, then Juliet. It is the latter’s turn now, which means Mindy is asleep upstairs.
“You need to get some sleep,” Parks says, and Armstrong nods, though it’s clear he isn’t going to try to remedy the situation right now. “How’s Mindy?”
“She’s doing well. Dr. Oliver is very optimistic. Her numbers aren’t getting worse. But with all the chaos...”
He drifts off, and Parks shifts gears.
“Listen, I know this is early to discuss, but are you going to be okay testifying? Lauren won’t be going to trial, not with her confessions, but the sentencing hearing will be in another month, and they are going to want you on the stand. And that means digging into your past.”
“I have nothing to hide.”
“Are you sure, Zack? Nothing at all?”
Zack’s hand stills.
“Everyone has something to hide,” Parks continues. “And Lauren, while she’s not exactly defending herself, has said a few things.”
“A few things like what?” Armstrong’s dark eyes are on fire, and Parks is reminded yet again that this man was, at one time, a professional killer.
“She claims you were abusive to Vivian. That Vivian asked her to take the baby because she was afraid for her safety.”
“And you believe this?”
Parks holds up his hands. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. If her lawyer has any moxie whatsoever, they’ll get an insanity defense started, and if they do, all kinds of weird shit might come out. I’m just saying, if there is anything you aren’t comfy with the world knowing, I’d be prepared to decline testimony.”
He glances at the bed, where Juliet lies, silent as the grave, the machine pumping air into her lungs.
“I have nothing to hide. I did my duty for my country. And I was not abusive to my wife. I loved that woman completely. I’m just sorry she didn’t trust me enough to explain her past to me. I would never hold her diagnosis against her. Then, or now.”
Parks pauses a beat. “Lauren Wright is asking to speak to you.”
“Hell no. She is the last person I want to talk to.”
Parks shoves off from the wall. “Okay. I’ll let them know. I’ll see you back in Nashville. Starr and I are heading home on the late flight tonight. Our job here is done, for now. We have a bunch of threads to pull together back in Nashville, especially with the Gorman investigation. I have to tell his wife what happened. Ain’t going to be a fun visit. She’s a nice lady.”
He is halfway out the door when Armstrong calls out, “Hey, did Lauren say what she wanted to talk about?”
Parks stops, rubs his thumb and forefinger across his mustache. It needs a trim.
“She says she has something important to tell you. That you’ll want to hear what she has to say. And she won’t tell anyone but you, directly.”
Armstrong nods once, twice, as if he’s making up his mind.
“I’ll see her. Do I go to the jail, or what?”
“Yep. I can carry you down there if you want. I admit, I’m rather curious what she has to say, and I have a couple of hours to kill. I’m sure one of Woody’s folks can get you back up here.”
“Okay.” Zack stands and turns, and as he does, Parks sees a flash of movement behind him.
“Armstrong,” he says with a grin.
“What?”
“Turn around.”
Juliet Ryder’s golden eyes are open.
*
The doctors have left, and Parks stands outside Ryder’s room, listening to Armstrong recount the events of the past few days, his voice soft and gentle. He wonders how many times Armstrong has told this story. So far, the man has refused all on-air interviews, has only talked to the police, but with Ryder, he’s as animated as Parks has ever seen him. It does his heart good to see the connection between them.
Of course, Ryder is a captive audience. She is still intubated, though the doctors are planning to remove the breathing tube in a few hours. Armstrong isn’t going anywhere right now, and sadly, Parks needs to get to the airport. There are more cases on his desk in Nashville; he can’t wait around any longer.
“It was chaos. Kat was barking,” Armstrong is saying, bending down to rub the dog’s ears. “Your sister was screaming, Mindy was screaming, Jasper was shouting. It was absolute mayhem for a while there. Where the hell did she get a gun? I know, I know, you can’t answer, I shouldn’t be asking questions. But you don’t need to worry, honey. She is in jail now. She can’t hurt you, ever again. Kat here will make sure of it.”
Parks clears his throat, and Armstrong looks up. He salutes him, then walks away.
A shame. He would have loved to hear what Lauren Wright has to say in person.
90
DENVER WOMEN’S
CORRECTIONAL FACILITY
The morning sun sends a shaft of light through the waiting area. The windows are placed high, so there is no chance of looking out, of dreaming, of seeing sunsets and sunrises, or the world passing you by. There are simply mean little thick-glassed windows there to allow extra light into the room so the overheads can be kept off at certain times of the day to save money.
Lauren is wearing the tan jumpsuit the prison issues, with slip-on sneakers. Because Jasper told them she was at risk for hurting herself, she has been kept away from the rest of the prisoners, under a suicide watch. All part of your defense, her lawyers tell her. Just stop talking, for God’s sake.
Her hair is lank, she hasn’t had a shower yet, and she is lonely. So lonely.
But this is what she deserves. She knows this, in her heart. She’s always known she was on borrowed time. For a sweet moment, her life was perfect. For almost eighteen years, she had it all. A family. A daughter. A life. That’s more than so many have. If asked, she will say it again and again: It was worth it.