Except for the pretty woman with dark blonde hair who is talking animatedly to him, a cell phone held out for Armstrong to see. He is entranced by whatever she is showing him.
With a predator’s natural ability, when Parks and Starr are ten feet away, Armstrong senses them coming and stands up. The dog’s ears flick forward, but she doesn’t move. The young woman—and she is young, Parks realizes, younger even than Starr—stands as well, warier now. She holds out a hand.
“Dr. Juliet Ryder, CBI.”
“Sergeant Bob Parks, Detective Brianna Starr, Metro Homicide.”
Pleasantries exchanged, Zack takes control of the meeting.
“We don’t have much time, so cards on the table. Juliet found Violet. Her name is Mindy Wright now, and she’s a skier. She’s also very, very ill. Leukemia, a rare form they found during the surgery on a broken leg she sustained—”
“In a crash at a World Cup event in Vail.” Parks nods. “Yeah, as of yesterday, I know all about Mindy Wright. Gorman had a note in the file—it only said Colorado. But he met Mindy the week he died. He was out there on vacation, but I think he was checking into the case.”
“Bad luck he died,” Zack says. “Do you have anything but gut to go on here? Seems more like a coincidence.”
“There is no such thing as coincidence when you’re dealing with homicide. My Spidey senses are all tingly. Something feels wrong about all this. Gorman was a good detective, solid and straightforward. He didn’t tell anyone about a possible lead, so far as we know. But the timing is strange. He finally finds Violet, then dies before he can tell anyone?”
“How did he die?” Armstrong asks. “I know you’re protecting the family’s privacy—”
“He skied off a cliff. From what I can tell, within a day of meeting Mindy at an event.”
“Accidents happen all the time,” Ryder says, and it’s not an unfeeling statement.
“Dr. Ryder, can you fill us in? How did you come to be here?”
“Sure. My sister, Lauren, adopted Mindy when she was only days old, but we—the family—didn’t know that until a couple of days ago. Lauren never told us. She met her husband, Jasper, right after Mindy’s birth but didn’t tell him, either. None of us knew that Mindy wasn’t her biological child.”
“Big shock,” Starr says.
“You have no idea.”
“Why did it come out now?”
“Mindy needs a stem cell transplant, and none of us are matches. I mean, not even close genetically, which was the big clue. When we found out, Lauren admitted to us Mindy was adopted, and who she got her from. We found out the doctor in Denver was illegally selling babies. How Mindy ended up in Colorado is beyond me, I haven’t had a chance to investigate any further yet. I stumbled across Zack’s case yesterday, saw the pictures, tested Mindy’s blood against the CODIS entry for Vivian, and found the match. I hopped on a plane immediately to see if Zack would be willing to come back and be tested. He might be able to save her life.”
“Why didn’t you just call?” Starr asks.
“I wanted to see him in person. This is the kind of news that should be shared gently. I also needed to beg for blood to run to see if Zack is a stem cell match. Two things at play here—reuniting a family, yes, but saving a life, too.”
Parks runs his thumb and forefinger over his mustache. It helps him think. “And solving a murder. She’s that ill?”
Ryder nods. “She’s very sick and getting worse. That’s why we’re moving so quickly. I know it’s quite unorthodox, and this is going to be a complex investigation into how Dr. Castillo, who’s dead, by the way, could have procured the infant and passed her along.” She swallows, and suddenly there are tears in her eyes. “But this might be our only chance to save Mindy’s life. Now that Zack knows where his daughter is, it’s Mindy first, investigation second.”
The gate agent calls for the passengers to line up to board. Parks’s time is running out. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You handle your end, run Armstrong’s blood, and see if he can donate to your niece. Starr or myself are on a flight to Denver tomorrow. We’re happy to work with you, or any of your colleagues, but we’re going to have to be a part of the investigation.”
“Absolutely. More’s the merrier.” Ryder holds out her phone. “Put your number in, and the minute I have a confirmation, you’ll be my second call.”
“I want to be your first.”
“Sorry. The first goes to Mindy’s doctor, to get Zack in line to do the transplant.”
Another boarding call comes. They all look toward the gate.
“We have to go,” Armstrong says, taking the dog’s lead and shouldering his backpack. “We’ll be in touch, Sergeant. I promise. I want to solve Vivian’s murder as much as you do.”
Parks watches until they disappear into the plane, a growing sense of unease knotting his stomach. Starr stands next to him, on her phone, checking flights.
“There’s another flight this evening, then four nonstops tomorrow. What do you want to do?”
“Honestly? I want to get on this plane so I don’t lose sight of Armstrong, and get out to Colorado immediately. But tomorrow will be soon enough. We need to get our ducks in a row before we jet off. And who knows? The DNA match was to Vivian, right? Once they get down to it, Armstrong might not be a match.”
“You don’t believe that for a second, do you?”
He shakes his head. “I believe the world is an interesting place, Starr. As for the rest, we’ll see.”
43
THE WRIGHTS’ HOUSE
Lauren is falling asleep in her living room chair when a text dings on her phone. It’s Juliet, with news.
I found Armstrong. We’ll be in Vail late tonight. Can we meet you at the house?
Panic surges through her like a flame. She is scared to death—everything that happens from here on out will have severe consequences.
Mindy is asleep in her room. When Lauren checked her last, she realized how diminished her little girl is, frail and pale under the bedclothes. The temporary excitement of the news—the hope—has worn her out, and Lauren thinks she’s slipped even further. She has a sudden urge to paint, to capture an image of her sleeping daughter. She’ll title it, A Sleep Before Death.
God, Lauren. Morbid much?
How is Mindy going to handle all of this? They have to tell her what’s happening, they owe her that much, but if Armstrong isn’t a match, then what happens?
The idea of losing her daughter kills her. It absolutely kills her.
And losing the secret she’s held for so long...having it out there, her people knowing, she feels as empty as the husk of an insect, sucked dry by a spider and left to rot on a floor behind a curtain. It has to come out, she has absolutely no other choice, but her life is going to be redefined now. She is no longer simply Lauren Wright, Mindy’s mother, Jasper’s wife, Juliet’s sister. Now she is a woman who held back the truth. A woman with secrets. A woman who lied.
From the beginning, when she made the decision to bring Mindy home, Lauren knew there could come a time when people would find out her baby was adopted. She is lucky, in a way. Her family cares so much they’ve forgiven her. Haven’t they? Or are they simply postponing her punishment until they see the outcome? Have her actions, her denials and secrets, cost the life of her child?
She holds no illusions. If Mindy dies, none of Lauren’s actions will matter. But if Mindy lives, there is a small chance at redemption.
Another text from Juliet.
Hello?
Lauren writes back immediately.
Sorry, I was checking Mindy. That’s incredible news. How quickly can you test him?
I’ll stop by Cameron’s and do a draw, get it into the system immediately. If it’s a match, I’m sure Oliver will want to run his tests first thing. We should know by early morning
.
A small gasp, she can’t help it. So soon? Is that even possible?
Us science types can do amazing things if properly motivated. Just tell Mindy to hang in there.
Lauren chews her lip for a moment. Is it him, J? You can tell me.
There is a slight delay, the three dots refreshing and refreshing as if Juliet is typing a huge, long reply, until finally, only three words appear on the screen.
Without a doubt.
And then,
I know we have to have proof, but it’s him. He looks just like her. She looks like him. Now we have to cross our fingers he’s a close enough match for the stem cells.
I’m praying you’re right.
The Nashville homicide folks were very cool. They will be heading the investigation, or a large part of it since the case originates in their jurisdiction. We’ll be working closely with them.
Investigation?
Into how Dr. Castillo got Mindy in the first place. Remember, a woman was murdered. We’ll have to find out what happened. But don’t worry. None of that will affect Mindy. Did you tell Dr. Oliver what I was doing?
“Mom?”
Gotta go, Mindy’s calling. Fly safe.
She stashes her phone in her right back pocket and hurries down the hall to Mindy’s room.
“You okay, sweetie? What’s wrong?”
Mindy is holding an arm across her stomach. So small, suddenly, so wasted. She looks about eight, her eyes huge in her face, her bald head shiny under the light. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Your tummy hurts? What do you want—ginger ale?”
“Yeah.”
“Hang on, honey. I’ll go get some.”
Lauren’s heart hurts. Her Mindy is morphing into another child, another soul. Competitive Mindy hated to ask for anything. She hit her self-reliance stage early, and never grew out of it. Until now. Lauren worries for a moment that she is giving up, that she’s resigned herself, then decides no, the treatment protocol so close to a transplant is especially awful and the antiemetic needs to be adjusted. No going to the dark side, she promises herself. Not when hope incarnate is on a plane west.
She grabs a can from the refrigerator, pours it over a cup of ice, tosses the empty can into the recycling bin. Finds a bendy straw, sees a Sharpie on the counter. She carefully draws on the full cup, a goofy-eyed smiley face, eyes crossed, tongue out, a perfect rendering of an emoji she’s seen Mindy use to indicate she feels silly. Anything, anything, to keep her cheered up, engaged. The drop-off from yesterday’s flush of excitement is frightening. She doesn’t know how to manage it, outside of continuing the daily grind of smiles and assurances.
Will these assurances still be enough if Zack Armstrong isn’t a match? Or will Mindy simply wither away, let herself go, stop fighting? The patient is in control of their recovery, Dr. Oliver has said repeatedly, but at what point does the pressure to control your destiny become too much, and the patient decides to give up?
Lauren witnessed the moment her mother gave up. She died quietly twelve hours later. No fanfare. No drama. Just a small life ending.
Please, God. Please. I’ll do anything if you give her strength. Give her hope. Help me fix my girl.
Back in the room, Mindy sits with her trashcan in her lap.
“Did you get sick?”
“Not yet. It was close, though.” A wan smile, and Lauren hands over the silly-faced cup. Mindy takes a few sips, closes her eyes, then throws it all up neatly into the can.
44
VAIL HEALTH HOSPITAL
“Gastroenteritis,” the nurse proclaims, taking Mindy’s blood pressure and temperature. “There’s a stomach flu making the rounds on the floor. We’re going to give her fluids and some stronger antiemetics, see if we can get her through it quickly. It’s been a twenty-four-hour bug.”
They admit her, start an IV, hang a bag of saline, and get her settled in a room. Apparently, four kids on the floor are showing symptoms too, all of whom were attended by the same overnight nurse who called in sick for her shift this evening.
Everyone assures them it will run its course, but it is a concern. A virus in the hospital is dangerous enough. One on an oncology floor can be devastating. Lauren warns Jasper not to come, and tends to Mindy herself, praying for the best, that she’ll get Mindy through it okay and won’t be felled herself as well.
Hours later, Lauren has just gotten Mindy into an exhausted sleep when a shadow darkens the door.
Juliet, and by her side, a tall, solidly built dark-haired man. Lauren recognizes him from the news reports. He is a little older now, lines around his eyes, some silver threading in at the temples, but not much changed otherwise over the past seventeen years. He looks very tired, very overwhelmed.
Lauren gets to her feet, surprised by how exhausted she feels—oh, no, is she coming down with it?—and gestures for them to go silently into the hall.
Juliet steps out, but Armstrong doesn’t move. He stands in the doorway, staring at the child inside the room, who sleeps fitfully, tethered to an IV. The beeps and moans and chirps and calls surround him, and Lauren watches the tears well in his eyes. She swallows hard, knowing the next few days are going to be the most trying of all their lives, and calmly waits for him to pull himself together.
This is what it’s like to lose a child, she thinks, and her heart surges toward him. As if she can fix this. As if she can give him back the last seventeen years.
He finally sniffs and moves slightly, and that’s when she sees the dog. A dog, in the hospital? What right does he have...and then she notices the harness. A service dog. This man, this big, strapping man, needs a service dog?
Well, he was military. Perhaps something happened on one of his postings, some sort of post-traumatic stress. She’s read a number of stories about PTSD in the paper recently.
Or maybe losing his wife and daughter undid him.
She points to the hall, and he nods, and their silent dance continues until they are well away from Mindy’s door, the dog padding along beside them, nails clicking on the floor.
“She has the stomach flu,” Lauren says finally. “She’s been sick for several hours.”
“She’s so small,” Armstrong says.
“The last few days have been hard on her. Finding out she’s adopted, now getting sick on top of the treatments. She’s tough, but even the strongest can be laid low. I’m Lauren Wright. Mindy’s mother.” She puts out a hand. There is a touch of defiance in her tone. She’s mine, even though she’s yours, too.
“I’m Zack Armstrong. This is Kat.” The dog’s tail thumps against his leg.
Lauren notices Juliet hanging back, almost as if she wants to see how the two will handle things. What is she expecting, Lauren to scream and yell and clutch Mindy to her breast, not let him approach for fear of her child being stolen away? This man represents their best hope of saving Mindy’s life, and at this point, Lauren has abandoned all pretense, except for the tiny voice yelling mine mine mine in the background.
“She’s a beautiful dog,” Lauren says.
“She’s a beautiful child,” Armstrong replies, and the raw pain in his voice almost makes her flinch.
“Let’s sit down.” Juliet points toward the family room at the end of the hall, but Lauren demurs.
“Mindy’s asleep now, but she’s been vomiting for five hours straight, and I don’t want to be too far away. Let’s talk here if you don’t mind.” That last bit is directed at Armstrong, who simply nods. “When she wakes up, we can introduce you.”
“Is she ready for that? Will the stress make her sicker? I don’t want to harm her in any way.” His voice catches, and Lauren touches his arm gently. It feels strange to touch him. He is warm and solid, and she snatches her hand back.
“Mr. Armstrong. She knows you’re out there, somewhere. I think we might be
past stressing her out at this point. Besides, she has your eyes. That is going to fascinate her to no end.”
“Still. And please, it’s just Zack.”
Juliet checks her watch. “It’s nearly ten. I wish Cam would call. How long is this going to take?”
They stand awkwardly for a few moments, then Lauren smiles timidly. “Do you want to hear a story about her?”
His face transforms, forbidding to eager in a split second. “I would like to hear all her stories.”
“Okay. She was—is—terribly precocious. When she was five, we caught her scaling a bookshelf because she liked the cover of one of the books on the highest shelf. It was black and had stars on the spine, and she was completely fascinated. I pulled it down and handed it to her. It was one of Juliet’s astronomy texts from school that she’d left behind at our house—did Juliet tell you she wanted to go into the space program?”
Zack shakes his head. “We haven’t talked about much other than Mindy, Lauren.”
“Well, she did. She should have been an astronaut. She missed the cut by a fraction of a point.”
“Moving on,” Juliet says, blushing.
“Sorry, it still upsets me that you didn’t get in. Anyway, Mindy sits down on the couch with this huge book in her lap, so big it’s sticking out past her knees, and starts turning the pages. She can’t read well at this point, can handle some of the kid books by herself but not this. I sit down next to her, and she looks up at me and says, ‘Show me the Milky Way, Mommy. I want to see the candy bars in the sky.’”
Zack smiles, and Lauren grins at him. “She was so mad when she found out that the sky didn’t have chocolate in it. Milky Ways are her favorite, but she hardly ever eats them because they’re not good for her. She’s a health nut, it’s part of her training regimen. Nothing processed, nothing that isn’t natural. She’s an expensive eater.”
Tear Me Apart Page 21