His face fills with a prideful eagerness as he attempts a shaky step, then another. I can’t help but smile. Despite the circumstances, I feel a tiny flutter of happiness. The first feeling in days.
Savannah lifts him into the air and resets him between her legs. She looks up at me.
“He’s a beautiful boy,” I say.
“Thank you,” she mutters softly.
“How old?”
“Thirteen months.”
I smile tenderly in response. Savannah returns her eyes to Grayson, guiding him in a wobbly circle.
“Can I ask you about his father?” I ask. Her eyes jump up to me. “I heard he passed about a year and a half ago. I’m so sorry.”
“Almost two years now.” Her gaze drops back down to Grayson. “We miss him every day.”
“I’m sure you must.” I pause. “Do you mind me asking what he did for work?”
“What kind of question is that?” Her change of tone catches me by surprise, but she continues before I have a chance to defend myself. “Why does this sound like an interrogation? What’s your deal, are you a cop or are you—”
“It’s not,” I blurt. “It’s not an interrogation. And right now, I’m a civilian. I’m on indefinite leave from the Marvel County PD, and if Noah goes to prison, chances are I won’t ever be a cop again.”
Savannah eyes me as she takes that in.
“I’m on your side,” I say. “I know Noah was set up and I’m here to make it right. I’m here to help.” The words sound hollow as they come out. They’re the same words I said to Noah less than an hour ago. Words that did nothing.
“Come here, come sit with Mommy.” Savannah lifts Grayson back onto her knee. She combs her fingers through his wispy blond hair. “I don’t exactly know what Kris did for work. You can judge me for saying that, but I don’t. Not his most recent job anyway. He was a high school football coach when we met. He loved it.”
I nod.
“But they fired him.” she says. “Showed up drunk to a game and they fired him in front of all the kids. It was the first game I couldn’t come to. I didn’t even see it happen.”
“I’m sorry.”
Savannah turns Grayson around on her knee. “Kris always had a problem with alcohol, but I never expected anything like that. And before you ask, no, he never hit me. Never once. He wasn’t like that. He just liked to enjoy life.”
I’m searching for words when she says, “He’d be in heaven around Grayson. He would’ve been an incredible father.”
“I believe that.” My voice is so soft that it hardly sounds like my own. “I can already see it in Noah.”
Savannah smiles genuinely. “Noah is going to make a great father someday.” Her smile vanishes. “Hopefully.”
“He will,” I assure her. “However it happens, he will.”
Savannah shakes her head as if discarding a bad dream. “The honest answer to your question is that I just don’t know. That night he was fired was awful. He took it really hard.”
“But it sounds like he was able to find another source of income, though?” I choose my words extra carefully.
Savannah shrugs. “I guess so. But I couldn’t tell you what it was. And I’m not hiding anything—I swear to God. I just don’t know. I asked him one time and he told me it’d be better if I ‘didn’t get involved.’” She quotes the words with her fingers. “I didn’t like it, but we needed the money.”
“Do you know if what he did involved anyone else?”
“No. I used to think it might be drugs, dealing or something, but I don’t anymore,” she says. “Kris wasn’t the drug dealing type. He went to treatment after the football incident and got himself sober. It was his choice. He completed the whole program and he was proud of it. He’s not the kind of guy that would turn around and start getting other guys hooked on shit.”
“I understand that.”
“Whatever it was though, it wasn’t great. I can tell you that. It was good money, but Kris wanted out. That’s what he told me. I had just gotten pregnant and he was set on getting married and moving away. He wanted a fresh place to start our own family.”
Again, I can only nod. It feels strange not jotting down notes, but I wouldn’t dare. Right now I’m not a cop, I’m Noah’s friend.
Noah’s ‘friend.’
I’m debating on how to introduce the banks when Savannah adds, “And not only that, but he was such good friends with Cliff Vernon that it would’ve been impossible.”
“Sheriff Vernon?” The question leaps out from my mouth before I can catch it.
“Yeah, the sheriff.” The tension in her face subsides. “Sorry, he’s been around here so much that he’s really more of a friend.”
I humor her with a fake chuckle and try to swallow the rest of my emotions. “Is he still a good friend of yours, then?” I ask.
“Kind of. He was around more for Kris than for me,” she says. “They came together right after Kris got out of treatment. Cliff got him into an AA program and helped him along, you know?” Savannah gives a reluctant laugh. “Hard to deal drugs when you’re best friends with the sheriff.”
When I don’t respond, she looks up at me and I’m hit with the sheer intensity of her stare.
“There’s no easy way to say this so I’m just going to tell you the truth,” I say, taking a breath. “Kris was making money off robbing banks.”
Her expression doesn’t even shift. She only stares back in silence, her thoughts racing in her eyes.
“Noah’s been doing the same thing,” I continue. “He’s been robbing banks and using that money to help pay for Grayson’s treatment.”
Savannah nods, holding Grayson’s head against her chest. The room fills with a heavy silence that I’m reluctant to break.
“This next part isn’t easy either, but I need to ask,” I finally say. “Can you tell me what you know about Kris’s death?”
The question takes Savannah by surprise. For a long moment she remains silent.
“What do you mean?” she asks after a beat.
“I want to know what you were told about how he died.”
Again, something flashes across her face. Her lips part, but she shuts them without speaking.
Savannah lifts Grayson from her knee and sits him on the floor between her feet. “I was told that his liver failed from severe alcohol poisoning. Now tell me what you’re hiding.”
I let go of a breath. “I can’t tell you anything with certainty, but one of the nurses suspected Kris might’ve been poisoned.”
Savannah’s face goes entirely empty as she abruptly leans back.
“How?”
“With arsenic,” I say solemnly. “It’s almost impossible to detect, but it’s extremely lethal. Ingesting too much will induce liver failure.”
Savannah snaps forward in her chair. Her eyebrows knot together as her face tightens in anger. “I knew it! He did not drink himself to death! He was—”
“Savannah, listen, who told you it was alcohol poisoning? Was it another nurse?”
“It was Cliff,” she blurts. “He was the only one helping me, all the doctors were so frantic. Nothing they gave him worked, he just kept throwing up. They couldn’t save him!”
“Cliff was at the hospital with you?”
“He was the one that brought Kris in!” she exclaims.
“Did you ever ask him to look into it? He’s the sheriff, Cliff could’ve investigated this.”
“No… I just… I was dealing with the funeral and all the arrangements and—” she stops herself. Her chin trembles and she shakes her head hastily back and forth. “After I saw his body lowered into the ground I knew it was over.” Her tears break loose. “I didn’t want it to be true. If I asked him to look into it, then I’d have to believe it and I couldn’t do that.” Savannah buries her face in her palms.
Grayson turns around at the sound of his mother crying. Crying over the death of a father that he’ll never know.
Savan
nah uncovers her face and lifts the young boy back into her lap. She plants a gentle kiss on his forehead, holding it for several long moments as tears trail out of her closed eyes.
I can only imagine how many times has Noah witnessed a scene like this.
Mother and child. A broken family in dire need.
It’s something the law will never have a real answer for. A situation that justice can’t ever fix. And who can blame Noah for trying to fix it on his own?
“Savannah?” I say, waiting for her to look at me before I continue. “Listen to me, it wasn’t your fault. We’re going to make this right.”
She nods, balling her sleeve in her fist to dry her eyes.
“And I’m not going to allow you to lose any more of your family,” I say. “Noah was never arrested for those robberies. He’s facing trial for a murder that he didn’t commit, and I will not let him go down for that. I promise you.”
When she looks at me again it feels like a weight has been dropped in my lap. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“You don’t need to thank me.” I stand up. This is the point where I usually shake someone’s hand, thank them for their time, give them my card, and ask them to give me a call if they remember anything else. But that all seems so trivial now.
For a second I stand there, wondering whether it’s appropriate to give Savannah the hug that I want to. But she stays seated.
Just as I’m about to force out an awkward goodbye she says, “Do you know anything else?”
I feel nerves twisting in my stomach. I debate it for a second, but I stiffen my lips and shake my head. Savannah nods and looks back at Grayson.
I regret not saying more, even as I leave. But I can’t. Not yet.
First, I have to prove it.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sophia
It’s morning when I open my eyes. My head is thick with exhaustion. I don’t even remember falling asleep, but the couch is damp with sweat and bright rays of sunlight are hot on my face.
Somehow, for the first time in days, I slept through the night.
Immediately I sit up and reach for my phone. This full night’s sleep was a blessing. It sped up time. I’ve survived another dreadful day of waiting. It’s time to move.
The second I light up my phone, every ounce of readiness drains from my body. The screen is empty. Nothing.
It’s 7:30, and still nothing from Claire.
I close my eyes and fall back into the couch.
It’s Thursday. It’s been over 48 hours now since I spoke with Claire. Nearing 72. My heart sinks into my stomach.
I can’t handle another day of this.
By the time I finish feeding Sherlock his breakfast it’s only 7:45. It’s like the silence in my house is slowing everything and causing the clocks not to tick. But another day of waiting means yet another day closer to the trial, which makes every second even more excruciating.
I drift back to the couch and flip on the TV, but I can’t bring myself to turn on the volume. I’m hardly watching anyway. There’s nothing able to distract from the thoughts hammering at my forehead.
I roll onto my side and crunch a pillow under my neck. My angst is making me nauseous. I need some sort of substance but I’m too tense to eat. Coffee is out of the question.
I turn over and stare blankly up at the ceiling, guiding myself through several deep breathes before growing restless.
At some point I find myself pacing.
I venture into the kitchen. Even a glass of water is unappealing, but I slowly gulp it down anyway.
It’s 9:00 when I wander back into the living room, stopping to stare out the window. The neighborhood looks entirely normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. No sign of danger—no visible danger, anyway.
Leisurely, I reassemble the couch pillows that I kicked off during the night. I boil a pot of water and force myself into a cup of tea. Whatever was on TV has changed. My phone hasn’t made a sound. The seconds keep ticking.
I’m going insane.
If Claire had ordered the test right away we likely would’ve had the results by the end of yesterday. And she isn’t the type to be careless with something like this, which makes me worry that her order was interrupted. All it takes is a random intrusion, a few whispers that make their way to the sheriff. Game over.
I can’t take this. I can’t keep sitting here.
I don’t know how the hell people do it. It’s so much easier to be out on the forefront, out in the heat of the action. At least there you’re confronting the beast. Taking that ability away from a cop is like putting a flower in a dark room. I’m wilting by the second, and the thought of Noah helplessly awaiting his trial only intensifies the pain.
His face hasn’t left the back of my mind. Neither has Grayson’s or Savannah’s. I couldn’t force them away even if I tried. And though it’s something I haven’t ever seen, I find myself picturing Noah with Grayson in his arms. The two of them happy and healthy. And free.
But we’re losing time.
I desperately want to go back asleep until my phone finally rings, whenever that is, but I feel like if I close my eyes for a second too long then I’ll wake up at Noah’s trial. I’ll open my eyes and it will already be too late.
I may be relying on Claire right now, but it’ll be my fault if Noah goes to prison. My fault if Grayson loses his uncle. My fault for not acting when I had the chance.
My phone rings the instant I stand to get another glass of water, its loud chiming shattering the silence. I spin around so fast that I almost trip as I race to scoop it off the table.
“Claire!” I exclaim in something between an exhale and a shout.
“Sophia!” She doesn’t hesitate, though her voice becomes low and hurried. “I have the results. We need to talk as soon as possible. In person.”
Anticipation erupts in my chest. “When and where?”
“The coffee shop on 10th and—”
“Brews and Bagels?”
“Right. Get us a table and give me ten minutes,” she says. “I’m leaving the department now.”
“I’ll be there.” I’m about ready to punch off the call when I throw my phone back up to my ear. “Wait, Claire, you still there?”
“What?”
“Does anyone outside of the lab know about the results?”
“No,” she mutters. And this time I punch off.
I take a minute to survey the coffee shop before selecting a table in the back corner. Nothing sticks out, certainly nothing suggesting a threat, but I remain alert even after taking a seat. Threats don’t often wear nametags, and I’m quite sure the threat that Noah is involved with is far from sloppy. It’s professional. And it’s probably nearby.
I’m still scanning the coffee shop and the adjacent street when Claire’s face appears in the window. It takes me a second to realize it’s her. She’s wearing a Braves hat pulled low over her face. Her eyes find mine from under the brim as she steps through the door.
She strides toward me without looking away.
“I hate sitting with my back to the room,” she says, slipping into the seat across from me.
“It’s better this way. I’ll keep an eye out and your face will stay out of sight.”
Claire doesn’t respond to that. She drops her purse between her feet and slowly pulls out a folder. She fixes me in a wordless stare before setting it flat on the table.
“You were right.”
“Let me see,” I say, hastily spinning the folder around and flipping it open.
“They found traces of latex in his sample,” Claire says. “It was positive for condom trace evidence.”
I look up at her. “And no one recovered a condom left anywhere at the scene?”
She only shakes her head. I want to celebrate but the feeling that overtakes me is one of sober urgency.
Claire leans in. “Tell me what the hell is going on, Soph.”
I peer down at the edge of the table, pretending to put everyt
hing together for the first time. For Claire, this will be the first time. And I’m going to need to do a damn good job of convincing.
Eventually I meet her gaze again, which hasn’t moved.
“Okay, let’s start at the beginning,” I say. “The victim was killed around 9:00 p.m. last Thursday night, that’s exactly a week ago. Her body was discovered that night at 11:00.”
Claire nods.
“But she wasn’t killed there,” I continue. “There wasn’t a single report of commotion at any point that night. No blood splatter whatsoever. The poor girl’s body was dumped, which means she was killed somewhere else, which also means transportation. I assume they impounded Noah’s car, did the victim’s blood turn up anywhere inside?”
“No,” Claire whispers.
“Did the coroner find any signs of struggle?”
She shakes her head.
“Her guard wasn’t up, she probably knew her attacker.” I pause but Claire doesn’t even twitch. “That means that the most tangible evidence of Noah’s involvement is the murder weapon and his semen. But the lab found traces of latex in the sample and no condom at the scene, which confirms that it was planted, especially considering that Noah was with me during the entire window, before and after her TOD. We can then assume the same for the revolver. It was probably planted as well.”
I bite my lip and stare at her.
There’s several long seconds of nothing but silence. “Tell me again who first found the body?” I finally ask.
“Sheriff Vernon did.”
Even as she says the words, even as the reality sinks in, every part of my being feels hot with furious disbelief.
I lean in. “You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you, Claire. But in order to prove it, I’m going to need your help.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Noah
I roar around the corner, cutting the inner edge of the road until oncoming car lights force me back into my lane. I tap the break for a brief second, but immediately release it. My blood is pumping too quickly to go the speed limit.
I’m willing to risk the chance of getting pulled over. Technically, I’m not doing anything to violate my bail conditions. Not yet.
A Capital Mistake Page 18