“Is Juliet Ryder aware of all of this?” Parks asks.
Woody shakes his head. “I’ve never heard a whisper of this, not even during her background check. She hasn’t ever spoken of it to me. Juvenile records of a family member wouldn’t necessarily be opened, and the name change...well, we’ll have to take a look at our files, see if there’s anything in her jacket that talks about this. But as far as I know, there isn’t anything.” He rubs his chin. “God. Poor Juliet. Poor Lauren.”
“Juliet was very young, and we have no idea the extent of the abuse. But if her sister tried to kill her today, could be Lauren wants the past to stay hidden. Honestly, without reopening the Vivian Armstrong case, no one would ever have looked into this. As far as we know, the two women don’t intersect at all, outside of their months together in the hospital.”
“They intersect again between 1995 and 2000,” Parks says grimly. “We need to find out how.”
“Let’s step back for a moment,” Starr says. “This woman killed her stepfather. She’s allegedly tried to kill her sister. We think she killed Vivian Armstrong. Do you think...”
“She killed Gorman, too?” Parks says, nodding. “Possibly.”
“That makes four victims. Her ex-husband is dead, too, and so is the doctor she claims to have worked with. What the hell are we dealing with here?”
“A psychopathic killer, who nearly got away with it,” Starr says.
“Starr, let’s not jump to conclusions.”
“Yeah, Parks, tell that to Juliet,” Woody replies, looking out the chopper window.
79
VAIL HEALTH HOSPITAL
Zack is allowed in to see Juliet after they administer the expensive antidote to the poison. Buried under tubing and ventilators, she is practically unrecognizable. The doctor, a young ER resident, stands at the foot of the bed, inputting his notes into the computer. He glances up when Zack enters the room.
“Will she live?” he asks the doctor.
“Are you the bastard who broke her ribs?”
“I am.”
“Then yes, she will, and it’s because of you. She would have died on the mountain before the ambulance arrived without your quick work. You have medical training?”
“Long time ago. Army.”
“Gotcha.” The doctor holds out a hand. “Flynn. Nice job. Don’t know if she’s going to be too happy when she wakes up. Broken ribs are a bitch, especially cracked off the sternum. You saved her life, though from what I’m hearing, she may not thank you for that. EMTs said she was a suicide. It’s an awful way to go if you’re trying to off yourself, I’ll give you that.”
“She didn’t do this to herself. Someone fed her the antifreeze.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m one hundred percent positive. There’s no way she tried to hurt herself. No way. She called me thirty minutes before I found her like this. This is a long story, and the CBI will be here any minute. They can fill you in on all the gory details. But I have to go check on my daughter, who is upstairs, and I’m afraid to leave Juliet alone without professional protection.”
“Your daughter is in the hospital, too?”
“Mindy Wright.”
“Oh, the skier. Let me call Dr. Oliver and get an update for you.”
“Protection. She needs protection. They both do. Please.” He points at Juliet, covered in leads, intubated, the machine breathing for her. She looks so weak and ethereal, so damaged. “This wasn’t an accident. It was attempted murder.”
“Okay, I hear you, Mr. Armstrong. Give me a few minutes to make arrangements, okay? Juliet has some rough hours ahead of her. She ingested a heck of a lot of ethylene glycol, plus a hefty dose of benzodiazepine. Her level was well above normal dosages, even for someone who was taking the drug consistently for weeks.”
“What, like antianxiety medication?”
“Exactly. You’re sure she wasn’t trying to end things? Because this particular combination would have been very effective if she hadn’t been attended to so quickly.”
“I’m sure,” Zack says, his voice firm.
“We have to reverse the damage the ethylene glycol did to her kidneys, watch for other organ failure, keep checking her levels, and the benzo overdose, well... She’s stabilized for the moment but in very serious condition, and this is all touch and go for the next twenty-four hours. We’re taking her to ICU for the duration of the treatment. I’m assuming she’ll be in there for a couple of days at least. It’s as secure an environment as this hospital has. Plus, we have decent security. We get celebrities in here sometimes. I’ll get the guards up here right away, both to Juliet’s room and to oncology. Okay?”
“Thank you.”
Flynn leaves the room, but not before asking a nurse to step in. Zack is heartened by this action. It means that he’s not stupid; if someone has already tried to murder his patient, he’s hardly going to leave her alone with a stranger.
The nurse fiddles with the IV, and Zack takes Juliet’s hand. “Juliet,” he whispers, and almost cries with joy when he feels a slight answering squeeze.
80
When Parks, Starr, and Woody arrive, they are greeted by a phalanx of police and hospital security. Dr. Flynn, true to his word, put out the call, and the hospital is now swarming with law enforcement. The reporters outside are in a dither—first Vail police show up, followed by the Eagle County Sheriff’s deputies, then the CBI comes in on their helicopter with unidentified cops from Nashville. Everyone knows something major is up, and everyone is trying to find out what, exactly, is happening, all while going live to report this new development, though they aren’t sure exactly what it is.
The downside to all of this attention: Zack has been deflecting questions from multiple people for the past ten minutes, and he is getting antsy. All he wants is to see Mindy, to tell her everything is going to be okay.
When Parks appears down the hallway, he waves him over gratefully.
“What the hell is going on?” Parks asks.
“These folks want to know the same thing,” Zack says. “But I have to go see Mindy. I have to talk to her.”
“Is she in any kind of shape to talk?”
“I don’t know because no one will let me see her.” He glares at the Vail policewoman who’s been trying to take his statement about Lauren and Juliet.
Woody steps in, flashes his credentials. “CBI, Special Agent Stockton. I’ll take responsibility for Mr. Armstrong. I agree he should be allowed to see his daughter.”
The gambit works. Zack is freed for the moment. Parks takes Kat’s lead, which doesn’t make her happy, but Zack kneels and says, “Hang in, sweet girl. I have to run upstairs to see Mindy.”
She barks once as if saying OK, fine, but hurry, and he sprints toward the elevator with Woody on his heels.
Mindy is, of course, still in isolation after the treatment. Oliver, garbed in blue and wearing a mask, is in the room with her, and two sheriff’s deputies stand guard. Mindy is clearly scared; he can see her straining to see out of the room’s door from her bed.
The nurse hands him a phone. “Gotta talk to her on the room phone, we’re not ready to let in anyone from the outside yet without you getting scrubbed down.”
“Just patch me in.”
He stands by the window to the room, and Mindy settles a bit when she sees him. Oliver puts a phone in her hand, and her tired, worn voice comes across the line.
Mindy has one question for him.
“Where’s my mom?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“What’s going on?”
“Juliet is sick. She got into some poison. She’s in the ICU right now. The doctors think she’ll be okay, but it is a dangerous situation. Where’s Jasper?”
“I don’t know. All I know is no one is answering their phones, and there a
re cops everywhere, and the news is saying my mom did something wrong.”
“They are?”
She points to the television. He recognizes the outside of the hospital, the curved sidewalk by the parking lot. The sun is setting; the scene is being lit by the many lights of the news trucks. Mindy’s television is tuned to the local CBS affiliate out of Denver, and Zack realizes the story is out.
“Oh, God.”
“What the hell is happening?” Mindy demands. “Can you ask Dad?”
Zack turns to see Jasper striding toward him. “Speak of the devil. I will, honey. Just hold on a second. How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. I’m tired.”
“That’s normal. I know you can’t sleep, but try to rest, okay? We’re going to figure all of this out.”
“Is Aunt J going to be okay? Tell me the truth.”
“She squeezed my hand a little bit ago, so yes, I think she will be. I sure hope so.”
“But is she going to wake up?”
Using two fingers, he traces an X on his chest, then holds them up next to his right ear. “She is. Scout’s honor.”
Mindy sags back against the pillows, and Jasper gestures for Zack to hand over the phone.
“Here’s your dad.”
“You’re my dad, too,” she says, her words broken by emotion, and he swallows down the lump in his own throat and gives her a blinding smile.
Jasper is in a fine fury, Zack can tell by the tightness in his voice. “Sweet pea, everything is going to be okay. We’re going to find your mom and talk to her. Please turn off the television. You don’t need to see any of this.”
“No. I want to know exactly what’s happening. Tell me what’s going on. I’m not a child, Dad.”
Jasper looks at Zack, beseeching, but Zack shrugs. “Might as well tell her what we know. It’s better she hears it from us than the reporters.”
Mindy nods vigorously.
Jasper swallows. “There’s been a development from Nashville. We think your mom knew your biological mom. We don’t know what that means, sweetheart, so—”
But Mindy isn’t stupid. “You can’t possibly be saying Mom stole me from Zack and his wife. Because that’s what the reporters are saying. That Mom murdered Vivian Armstrong and stole me.”
“Sweetheart, calm down—”
“Where. Is. Mom?” She is shouting now, half out of the bed. Oliver puts a restraining hand on her shoulder.
Jasper’s eyes close, and he whispers, “We don’t know.”
Zack watches Mindy’s face collapse, the tears begin. He pulls the phone from Jasper’s hand.
“We’re doing everything we can to find her, honey. You do us a favor, okay? If she calls here, you let us know, all right? We don’t want her getting hurt, we all just need to talk to her.”
Mindy’s mouth forms a tiny O as she grasps the situation. Her shoulders sag again, and when she speaks, she sounds like a little girl.
“I’ll tell if she calls. Promise. But I need to tell you something first.”
“What’s that?”
“Mom had letters taped to the back of her dresser. I was snooping, and I read them. They were between a woman named Liesel, and someone called V. The V person was writing from someplace called University Hospital.” She takes a deep breath. “V is Vivian. And I think Liesel is Mom.”
81
The furor grows. When the media find out Dr. Juliet Ryder, CBI, is in ICU clinging to life after being poisoned, the stories begin to coalesce. They are careful to use the word allegedly in front of everything to do with Lauren Wright.
Allegedly poisoned... Allegedly murdered... Allegedly stole...
Zack wanders the halls with Kat by his side, feeling utterly impotent. There is nothing he can do here except watch and wait. Pray for a quick and non-lethal outcome. Avoid the entrances and exits, where reporters lurk like starving wolves. The police are taking apart the Wrights’ house, looking for the letters Mindy mentioned.
Online and on air, the sort of gleeful befuddlement that follows any great criminal unveiling is underway. Twitter and Facebook explode. Tips come pouring in. Sightings abound. Talking heads are pulled in. No one has any idea what they’re talking about, but talk they do.
* * *
By 10:00 p.m., Lauren Wright is a household name.
And despite this myopic attention, nothing pans out.
No one has seen her. She has disappeared.
A statewide BOLO has been issued. The airports have been alerted. The CBI have added her to their Most Wanted list, which gains extra attention from law enforcement officials across the state.
Zack is disconcerted to see his own face, and Vivian’s, flash on the screen every few minutes. The photo of him is from his Army days. He is in uniform, unsmiling, shoulders broad, a beret cocked over his right eyebrow, his jaw square.
He barely recognizes himself.
He barely recognizes Vivian, either. The photo is not one he remembers. She is very pregnant, hands cradling her belly, a smirk on her lovely face. Someone close to her took this, he is certain. But who? And where did the media find it?
The guilt he’s stashed deep in his soul bombards him.
It is his fault. It’s always been his fault.
Mindy has finally fallen into an exhausted sleep, with a little help from Dr. Oliver, whose latest check of her levels says everything looks good, but they need to keep her stress down, so he slipped her a Mickey in the form of a mild sedative. She might be mad tomorrow, but for now, everyone’s tension has gone down a notch. Her body needs rest to heal. Without her, none of this matters anymore.
Juliet continues to hang on. She is still unconscious, now purposely so, but her blood gases are returning to normal levels, her blood chemistry’s getting back into line. The fomepizole is working. The dialysis will continue until morning, and she’ll stay intubated until they see the extent of the damage to her lungs. Tomorrow, they’ll talk about taking out the breathing tube. Letting her wake up. Getting the whole story. The patience needed for the next twelve hours seems impossible to bear.
Jasper has been slumped in a chair outside Mindy’s room, staring at the ground, his hands between his legs, for the past few hours, refusing comfort or conversation. He is utterly, completely defeated.
The police report in frequently about their finds at the house. Bottles of ethylene glycol have been found in the garage. One in particular has his wife’s fingerprints on it. A teacup in the dishwasher has traces of the chemical in it. There is a bottle of Ativan in the bathroom cabinet, prescribed by Dr. Oliver to Lauren Wright, only last week. The count was thirty, there are now only three left. No letters are found. Lauren must have taken them with her, afraid to have any tangible links to her past discovered.
Jasper is clearly a man who can’t believe what’s happening, but the story that’s emerging from the evidence is clear. Lauren is in possession of every aspect of a capital murder charge against her sister.
Motive. Means. Opportunity. And the worst—premeditation.
Parks and Starr have briefed Zack in detail about both crime scenes—his old home in Nashville, and the Wrights’ house on the mountain. Despite the evidence, despite the assumptions, nothing fits. Lauren’s DNA at the Nashville crime scene means only one thing, and everyone knows it, but it makes no sense. Or it makes a perverse kind of sense, which is what the media has latched onto.
Only two people have any answers. One who might be able to shed any light on where Lauren was and what she was doing seventeen years ago lies intubated in a hospital bed, fighting for her life. The other has disappeared.
Zack has to admire Lauren, in a way. How she managed to orchestrate stealing his daughter and kept it a secret from everyone around her for seventeen years is nothing short of miraculous. And when she’s found out, instead of trying to deny
it outright or play dumb, she simply, cold-bloodedly, removes the obstacles in her path.
Gorman, for one. His accidental death is being reopened as a possible homicide.
Juliet, for another. Attempted homicide is a nasty charge.
What’s confusing to everyone—why she didn’t just try to kill Zack, too? The answer is beyond him, and he’s not the only one interested. Everyone is fascinated by how a loner suburban wife can hide herself so thoroughly. At least every ten minutes, the question comes up from one of the law enforcement people: Where is she? And the even grimmer news people: Is she still alive? People tend to kill themselves when their more horrifying secrets come out, and many of them do so in a show of strength and fury, taking out people around them. The news warns people again and again not to approach Wright if she’s spotted. They don’t know if she is armed, but she is undoubtedly dangerous.
It seems everyone in the state, hell, in the nation, is looking for her. But she has disappeared.
Poof.
The suddenly famous suburban criminal is gone.
82
It is past midnight, and Zack’s phone won’t stop ringing. He wants to turn it off, but Parks won’t let him. They keep hoping Lauren will call Zack, or Jasper, or Mindy, but so far, it’s only been a bevy of reporters wanting comments.
But Park’s admonishments to suck it up and get his thumbs some exercise turns out to be the best advice of the day because as Zack is about to decline yet another call, he sees a familiar name pop up on the screen.
Bode Greer.
God, in the melee, he’s forgotten all about the kid. The cops are going to want to talk to him. Zack answers with a grateful, “Bode. I’m glad you called.”
“Dude, listen. I heard on the news they’re searching for Mrs. Wright.”
“They are, she’s disappeared and—”
“No, dude, listen to me. She’s in Denver. I’m sitting a block away from her car right now.”
* * *
The mobilization is immediate. Even Zack, a retired military man, is impressed. Woody is as good a manager as they come; he has everyone hopping in the correct directions within five minutes. Denver police are rolling up on Bode’s location—which turns out to be half a block from Juliet’s town house. It seems Lauren has gone to her sister’s place to hide out and has been stashed there during the evening’s melee.
Tear Me Apart Page 35
