Did she say, ‘where the children were sleeping?’
I didn’t know that Joslyn had kids in the house. I’d forgotten that she had kids at all. But then I remember JD stepping on a squeaky toy in the backyard last night, and when Detective Parker was reading my rights in the airport, he did mention I was being charged with child endangerment. It just didn’t register when I heard the murder charge. Oh my God! I was about to kill children.
“How many?” I mumble.
“How many what?” Detective Rogers asks.
“How many children were in the house?”
“There were four. Two twins at the age of six, a daughter at the age of eight, and a son. He’s ten years old.”
What was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking.
“It bothers you,” Detective Parker finally chimes in. “To think children were in that house, and you almost burned it down. If they would have died, do you think you could have lived with that?”
I can’t answer that question. All I can do is look down at the table.
“Let’s change the subject again,” he says to Detective Rogers. “I want to talk about Grace Moran.”
I’m still hanging on to the fact that I almost killed four kids. My head is spinning just thinking about how close I was to doing that.
“Gia, do you remember our talk in the park the other day? About Nick and Grace?”
“Ah, yes,” I answer. Then I also begin to remember that he was the guy that Anthony was talking to outside of the church after Grace’s funeral. The lick of grey on his head reminds me.
“Nick did not kill his mother. The guy beats his wife. His children are afraid of him. Everyone that knows him hates him, including his brother. But none of that pointed to his guilt, and of course, he had a solid alibi. What made me start looking at another suspect was a report from the crime lab. Even though most of Grace’s body was burned, there were still high amounts of sedatives found.” Detective Parker opens his folder. There’s a list. He squints as if he can’t see the writing. “There are some long medical terminology here. Hard for me to pronounce. Why don’t you tell me what that top one says?”
He’s trying to rope me in for murdering Grace. I’m not reading or admitting to anything. I keep eye contact with him instead. It becomes a staring contest that neither one of us back down from.
“We searched your house last night, Gia,” Detective Parker continues. “That same drug that was found in Grace’s partially charred remains was also in your house, in your closet, in a drawer. And those drugs weren’t even yours. I believe they were prescribed to a patient that you used to take care of. I forget his name.” Detective Parker pulls out another list. “Here it is. His name is Theodore Hawkins.”
I’m trying to keep my cool, but I’m trembling. I didn’t think I would ever get caught. I can’t even think of a lie to get out of this.
He points to me and says, “You killed Grace Moran.”
“No, Detective Parker.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“No, I did not.”
He hits the table with the open palm of his hand, startling me. “Every time you open your mouth you lie. You lie to your parents. You lie to your boyfriend, and you’re lying to us.”
I shake my head. I’m dying inside. This can’t be happening.
“Gia, no matter what you say, no matter your denials, you’re going to prison. Your days as a freewoman is over.”
There has to be something I can think of to get out of this.
“I’ve been wondering something, Gia. Maybe, you can answer this for me. As a matter of fact, I know you can. How did you get rich so fast? You were struggling with your bills just last month, living in a rent controlled apartment, and now, you live in Tudor Estates. Mortgage paid off. All of your credit cards have a zero balance. You have a brand new car.”
“She has two brand new cars,” Detective Rogers adds. “JD was driving one of them.”
“That’s right,” Detective Parker says, looking back at her. “And you paid for them in full. You must have hit the lottery or something? Detective Rogers, how much was that jackpot earlier this month that some anonymous winner claimed?”
“Two hundred million dollars,” she answers, still staring at me.
“That’s a lot of dollars,” he says. “Did you know that Ms. Moran played the lottery? I found a whole bunch of old tickets in her garage in a shoebox. Good thing the fire didn’t get to that part of the house. I wouldn’t have made the connection to you. She saved ten years or more worth of tickets, two a week for every week of those years. And she played the same numbers each time, without fail. Did you know those numbers hit the day before she was killed? Funny how I didn’t find a lottery ticket for that last drawing in her home. I found the one for Tuesday’s drawing, which she didn’t win a penny, but not the one for Saturday. You were at her house Friday, correct? According to your work schedule, you visited Grace Moran every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday to provide her with in-home care.”
“I paid for my ticket with my own money. If she had one, I didn’t know about it.” Even as I sit here lying my tail off, trying to act like I’m innocent, I’m getting sick to my stomach. The fact that Detective Parker said I was going to jail and that I almost killed those kids have me panicking. If I could run, I would.
The whole time I’m in my thoughts, Detective Parker is still talking. I can’t stand this any longer.
I interrupt him by saying, “I want to speak to my dad.”
Detective Rogers look to Detective Parker with confusion.
“Please,” I sadly remark.
“Is your dad a lawyer?” Detective Rogers asks pointedly. “That’s the only person we’re going to allow you to talk to at this point.”
“He’s already here, right?”
They won’t admit it, but I know he is.
“Please, before I’m taken away.”
Detective Parker sighs and nods. Detective Rogers isn’t happy about it, but she doesn’t disagree with her partner. They leave me with the uniformed officer again, and I place my head down on the table. My life is over.
Chapter Thirty-Four
My dad is brought in, and he sits down close to me. He takes my hands. His are so warm and soft. Those were the same hands that held mine as a little girl as we walked in the stores. He’d buy me candy or ice cream. Anything I wanted, even if he couldn’t afford it. My sweet Dad, I’m breaking his heart, and it’s tearing me up inside.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to him.
I know the cops are listening and watching from behind the mirror, and I really don’t want them to hear us.
He wants to say I’m going to be okay. That’s how my dad is. He wishes the best for me in the worst situation. But he is more than aware nothing will be okay from this point on.
“I don’t mean to disappoint you.”
“Is it true?” he asks.
I look down. My silence answers his question, and his warm touch draws back.
“What kind of person are you?” The look he gives me is of disgust and horror. “I didn’t believe the detectives when they told me you killed Grace. My flesh and blood, my daughter, my Gia, no way on this earth, but you did. You really took a life.”
“Dad-”
“And you don’t even regret what you’ve done.”
“It was a mistake.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head and standing away from the table. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“Dad, please, I’m sorry.”
Tears appear in his eyes. I stand to hug him, but he rushes out the door before I can reach him. I try to follow him, but the police officer grabs me. My dad has my mom by the arm, and they’ve turned a corner and out of sight. I scream for them to come back.
Another officer shows up, and they handle me down to the floor. I’m handcuffed behind my back. All I can do is cry.
I’ve managed to push my parents away. No amount of money is worth losing them. I’ll
give it all back just to have their support, their love.
The detectives are standing in the hallway, watching me. Detective Parker walks over slowly as the uniforms help me to my feet.
I literally give up and remark, “I want to make a statement.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Friday, believe it was June 2nd, I went by Grace’s house on my normal rounds. She was fussing because Nick didn’t have time to stop and buy her a lottery ticket. I offered to pick it up for her while I was out, and I told her I would bring it back after I finished. After I left her house, I bought it, but I’d forgotten to take it back to her after work. I went out that Friday night, like I always do, and I spent the night with JD. By the time I woke up Saturday morning, Grace had called me a couple of times. She wanted to know if I got the ticket. I told her I did, and I would go by later on that day. Well, I forgot again.”
“What were you doing that Saturday?” Detective Parker asks.
“I went to see my family, and I drove out to Atlanta and partied. I came back to Savannah that Sunday morning. Grace had been blowing up my phone all night, but I didn’t return her call. I figured I’d see her Monday, and I would give her the ticket then. But a friend of mine started talking about how someone won the lottery out of a store in Rincon. Grace lived there. That’s where I bought the ticket. When I got home, I checked the numbers online. I had the winning ticket in my hand, and I decided right then and there that I was going to keep it. But I knew Grace would try to claim it, even though I paid for it. She had all those tickets in her house with those same numbers. I knew no one would believe me, and I’d end up losing the money. So, I called JD, told him that I needed his help. I promised that I would get him a new apartment, pay the rent, buy him a brand new car, and I would take care of all his utilities if he helped me get rid of Grace. He agreed.”
“Did you tell JD about the lottery winnings?” Detective Parker asks.
“No, he had no idea. He’s never been to my old apartment, and we met in a club where he used to dance. As far as he knew, I always had a lot of money. He had no idea how or when I became a millionaire.”
“Did he ask why you wanted Grace killed?”
“It didn’t matter to him as long as I was paying his cost of living.”
“Go on, Gia,” Detective Parker responds with anger.
“We went over to her house after nightfall that Sunday, and she was fussing about how long it took me to get back to her.”
“When does JD enter the picture?”
“Not long after I walked into the house. When she saw him, she knew something was up. She tried to make him leave, but he hit her in the face, knocked her out. He put her in bed. I gave her a sedative. We poured the gasoline in front of her bedroom door and all around the house, and we set it on fire.”
There’s a long moment of silence. The detectives look at me as if I’m the scum of the earth. I guess I am, considering everything I’ve done.
Detective Rogers speaks up. “Your father was right to cut all ties with you.”
A hint of defiance forms, and I say to her, “Two hundred million dollars. Think about it. All of your problems go away with that money. You don’t think you would do anything to keep it?”
“I wouldn’t kill another human being.”
“You don’t know what you would do, Detective Rogers. No one ever does until the choices are real.”
“Gia,” Detective Parker says, “more than likely you would have kept the money, even if you hadn’t of killed her. The store footage showed that you purchased it. The money was yours, regardless.”
I refuse to believe what he says. He doesn’t know that for sure.
Detective Rogers leaves the room, carrying an attitude with her. Detective Parker stays behind, making me write a statement for both incidents. I fully admit to both crimes, and I sign my name. Maybe, I can gain my parents back this way. Because honestly, that’s all I care about is them.
Epilogue
JD died two days after he was shot. Honestly, I felt horrible about him getting killed. He was a human being, and despite what he’s done, he deserved better. I blamed myself, and I still do to this day.
Days later after his death, I was in a courtroom. I was charged with child endangerment, breaking and entering, property damage, robbery, attempted murder, and murder. But I was being arraigned for murder of Grace Moran only. My lawyer planned on going with an insanity defense. I didn’t want it and outright entered a guilty plea. My dad would want me to own up to the crime, and that’s what I did. I’d do anything for my parents. Anything.
A month after the preliminary hearing, the sentence handed down was life in prison with the possibility of parole in thirty years. It had me weak in the knees. I couldn’t even stand, but I deserved it. If Nick and Anthony had a say - they were in the courtroom during the sentencing - I’d get my ass whipped. Worse yet, they would have killed me themselves. I was relieved when the trial was over. I didn’t have to see the Moran brothers anymore.
I’ve been in prison for six months now, and I’m that far along in my pregnancy. I’m pretty sure JD is the father. I plan on giving the baby to Lauren, but only if she wants it. If she doesn’t, I guess the state will take it. That poor kid. I hope it turns out better than me.
My parents refuse to visit me. I send them letters, but I don’t believe they read them. I don’t know where Mac is, don’t really care. Lauren writes when she can. The only person that comes to see me is Natasha. Of all the people that I’ve met, she’s the one who has remained true. She prays for me. She feels sorry for me. Pisses me off when she does, but I try to hide it. I do value her friendship because she’s all I have.
The lottery money? Well, I’ve given most of it away to different charities around the world, but I did leave some to my parents, and I made a trust for my kid. I’ve also hidden the money. Never know. I might get out of jail a lot quicker than I think.
The Moran brothers and the Montgomery family are suing me. The brothers are trying to claim the money belonged to their mother, but there is the matter that I confessed to buying the ticket with my own money. Even the store footage shows me getting a drink and using the change for the purchase of the ticket. Grace didn’t sign it-wasn’t hers to sign, anyway-and it has long passed the expiration date. As for the Montgomery family, they want restitution for damages to their home and to line their pockets. My lawyer says that neither one of them have much of a chance of getting what they want. I don’t have anything to give, anyway.
My house in Tudor Estates was repossessed by the state of Georgia and sold. I hear that Joslyn wanted the proceeds from the sale to pay for the damages in her house, but she isn’t getting anything. Insurance handled their claim, and the house, from what I hear, is back in pristine condition. I don’t know how. Gasoline stinks, and if it’s in the wooden floors, the smell is not going away easily.
So, now I’m in the state penitentiary. No longer a Lady of Tudor Estates, no more a Woman of Privilege, but a criminal and a murderer. This life ain’t shit. I should have made better choices.
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Rachel (Women of Privilege Book 2)
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Gia (Women of Privilege Book 1) Page 13
