The days seem to blend into each other as we go back and forth from the courthouse to the station and back home each night. After Colton Cosgrove, we learn, confesses to helping dump Troy's body, he takes a plea deal. But the other two co-conspirators are still out there, and Gray has put out arrest warrants.
It's not until two weeks after he takes that plea that Jeff pleads guilty to putting the hit on Troy and attempting to murder Brock and me. His sentencing is set for May 14th, nearly a year after Troy was killed. Since he pleads guilty, it's up to the lawyers and the judge to determine his fate. I don't want his money; I want justice. We still don't have a confession on who killed Goldie. I can't imagine it being the female, Petra, or the other male, Greg, both of whom were involved in the plot to dump Troy's body. Is there another killer? The thought makes me shiver, tiny bumps forming on my arms as I push a shopping cart around Reddy's on a Monday afternoon.
After loading the groceries in the car, my eye wanders to another car one row over. Someone is blasting rock music, and I briefly recognize it as ACDC's "Bang Your Head," which instantly throws me back to the '80s. Sometimes I miss the simplicity of that time. I was a young mom in the late 80s, and we didn’t worry about so much information being fed to us twenty-four a day. It was easier to raise kids (not as easy as the 50s) and there wasn’t so much political correctness.
I snap out of my memory trance and shut the car trunk. Looking around, the world looks normal, even though grief, sadness, anxiety, and stress are all around me. We all put on facades and go on with life.
When I get home, I see Brock out in the front. He’s slapping on a fresh coat of white paint to our doorframe. It’s an unusually balmy March day and I only need a light jacket. The sun pours down upon me as I come outside after unloading and putting the groceries away. You’d think it was any other day in Grantsville and has been for the past year, even if it’s been anything but.
“Looking good,” I say, shielding my eyes from the sun.
“You think? I figure it could use a fresh coat after 15 years.” I can tell Brock is going stir-crazy being home. He wants to be in the city, taking on cases and winning, and socializing with people. I took a break from posting on my YouTube channel, telling my subscribers that I was dealing with personal issues and would be back soon. Next week, we meet up again for my gardening group. The last time, it seemed we only talked about the crazy that had happened last year – the last thing I wanted to discuss. I understand, but if everyone knew the hell Brock and I have been through, they might be more sensitive. I had the group promise to talk about gardening, and that was all. We’ll see what happens.
I go back inside and notice Herc barking at the sliding back door, instantly putting me on edge. I cautiously look outside, half expecting to see someone in our backyard, but I only see that stupid cat who seems to have made our tree his home.
“Herc, quiet. It’s just the dumb cat.” I grab his collar and drag him away. For a split second, I think I see something out of the corner of my eye, but when I look back, it’s gone. It’s just my mind playing tricks on me.
No one is out there.
As I’m folding a pile of laundry, I hear my phone vibrate. I pick it up and push the phone icon.
“Hey, Trice, Gray here.”
“Hi, Gray.”
“Listen, there’s been a … well, some kind of hiccup with the case.” His voice sounds strained, and my heart skips a beat.
“What hiccup?”
“Jeff has been released.” My mouth drops open.
“What? How?” I feel faint.
“He has a damn good lawyer, and he made up some bullshit story that you and Brock threatened him and his family, and it’s why he tied you two up.”
“Are you kidding me? What absolute rubbish!”
“I know. He also said Troy’s death was an accident, that he fell on a step leading to the cabin, smacked his head and got a severe concussion. Grant, who went to medical school, tried to save him but wasn’t able to. They were both scared and didn’t report to the police.”
“Hold up. Jeff confessed to having Troy killed and poisoning us. I’m so confused.” What the hell is happening? This is supposed to be over.
“He said he was forced to confess, that he was intimidated, and when you guys came to Long Island, you all but accused him of murder. You didn’t, right Trice?” I have to think back to dinner at Jeff’s home. I recall talking about Troy’s death and that someone killed him and then dumped his body, and I guess I could have –
“Trice, please tell me you didn’t say anything to Jeff.”
“Well, I … “
“Damn it, you did.” Gray’s long and deep sigh makes me feel ashamed. “What did you say?”
“He asked how life was in Grantsville, and I might have said that Troy’s body was found and that someone killed him and did he know anything about it.”
“I can’t believe you. You may have just screwed this case; you do know that, right?” I had no idea Jeff would do this
“I’m sorry, Gray. I had to know if he was involved.” I should have kept my shut.
“So, you basically accuse him of murder at his home? Do you know how bad this sounds? Any leverage we had over him is gone.” At this point, he’s nearly yelling at me, and I feel about 4 inches tall. I realize what a stupid thing I did and wish I could unwind back to that day. If I had kept silent, I wouldn’t have put Brock and me in danger. We could have come back and told Gray what we found and let him take care of it. Of course, it was Brock who found the files and took pics, and Jeff found them, which, if he said something about that, there’s no evidence, just his word against ours. This just keeps getting worse.
“Gray, I don’t know what to say. I feel so ashamed. I thought we were helping the case, not hurting it. What can I do?”
I hate the silence on the other end. “You and Brock need to find some evidence to tie him to Troy’s murder and your attempted murder. We need something or he walks free.”
“What about the arsenic they found in his blood?” That was no accident.
“Arsenic in different concentrations can be in food. The bloodroot was at the cabin. In other words, both can be explained, other than murder.” This can’t be right. And then it hit me. If we were also poisoned with arsenic, it would still be in our blood.
“Gray, we need to be tested for arsenic. It’s not even been a month since we were poisoned. When our blood comes back with it in our system, that’s too much of a coincidence, right?” I can tell Gray is thinking about it.
“That might work. Okay, you and Brock get an appointment for a blood test. We can prove that he poisoned you with arsenic.”
“I’ll call right after I get off with you.”
“Alright, Trice. You may have just saved the case.”
I blow out a breath. I end the call and immediately contact the doctor for a blood test. They can get us in tomorrow morning.
I go out and tell Brock everything, and at first, he’s just as angry as Gray. “I knew this would come back to bite us, Trice. We should never have gone there in the first place.” His face shows disappointment – the creases showing prominently between his brows. Then his face softens, and he looks sad. “You suspected it was the same person, and I never listened. This is my fault as much as yours.”
“No, I should have just not said a word and enjoyed our trip. We could have taken the pics and acted as if everything was fine. If I wouldn’t have accused him of something, he probably would have never known we knew. No, this is my fault, and I need to make it right.”
The following day, Brock and I are sitting in the doctor’s waiting room waiting to get our blood drawn. Some people are there, sitting in red and gray leather chairs. One is with a little boy, and he’s watching Encanto on the large TV in the back. The large aquarium on a black stand in the corner houses colorful fish swimming back and forth, yellow, orange, and a few multi-colored ones. The lightly colored blue Berber carpet contrasts perfectly with two large portraits of colorful bouquets, one with yellow and white roses with baby’s breath and the other with yellow and pink carnations and blue salvias that hung on the back wall. The walls are painted lavender, which gives it a calming effect.
“Brock and Patrice.” I hear our names, and I get up and head to the waiting open door.
“You just need your blood draw?” The nurse with the white scrubs, short red bobbed hair, and green sparkly eyes says as we follow her down the hall.
“Yes. We need to know if there’s arsenic in our blood,” I answer back. The nurse, identified as Bridgette from her nametag, looks back at me with a confused look. “It’s a long story, but we think we were poisoned by it.” Nurse Bridgette places her hand over her chest.
“Oh, how awful!”
She leads us to the lab and tells us to wait in their waiting room while she informs the phlebotomist of what to test for. Suddenly, I feel like all eyes are on Brock and me when two come into the waiting room with Nurse Bridgette and take us individually into the room. I inform the male, who looks like he could pass as a younger version of Tom Cruise, that I get faint if my blood is drawn in a sitting position. He nods and leads me to an empty room. He’s quite tall and thin, and his brown hair and eyes show off his white face, light blue scrubs, and white lab coat. He looks no older than his mid-twenties.
After we get our blood drawn, we’re told to wait for the doctor.
About ten minutes later, Doctor Henshaw, our doctor for the last 15 years, comes in, a frown planted on his mouth. His brown hair is starting to gray, and you can see a receding hairline, but he looks fit with no fat in the middle. He reminds me of Sean Connery in his younger years, except for the British accent.
“So, I understand you might have been poisoned with arsenic?” Straight to the point.
“Yeah, it’s a long story, but we went to Long Island and, well …” I struggle with what to say.
“We think someone poisoned us, the same one who had Troy Carmichael killed.” Doctor Henshaw sits down and looks fascinated with the story Brock tells about, well, everything since last year.
“I heard about that but had no idea you two were involved. I know Jeff; I was his doctor for years and would have never thought he’d be capable of doing something like that.” We never did either, but here we are. “I put a rush on the test, so it should be back within 24 hours. Do you have any residual effects? Arsenic can have long-term damage, so I think it would be wise to get a full blood workup and check for any signs.” Great, another thing to worry about.
When we both agreed to further blood tests, we got more blood drawn. Doctor Henshaw said he would contact us by tomorrow with the results. “If you have any symptoms or signs of further effects, let me know immediately. He then rattles off a list of everything we could experience now or in the future.
By the time we arrive home, I’m exhausted and just want to crash. Brock flips on the TV and immerses himself in a mind-numbing sci-fi movie. I go upstairs with Herc and lie down. It’s not quite noon, but I feel like I’ve been up all day. Before long, I feel myself drifting off.
When I wake, it’s still light outside, but I’m surprised when I see that it’s nearly 4:00. I don’t ever take long naps, but something about having eight vials of blood drawn takes it out of you. Thankfully, the dull headache I had earlier is gone.
I get up and yawn, stretching my back. I feel famished, and no wonder. The last time I ate was before getting our blood drawn nearly 8 hours ago. I run cold water and splash it on my face. It feels refreshing. After brushing my hair and teeth, I walk downstairs, Herc on my heels. It’s quiet, and I can see why. Brock is sprawled out on the couch, snoring softly. I tiptoe into the kitchen and grab a feta chicken berry salad bowl I had bought at the store. It’s light but feels me up. When I finish, Brock walks in, his hair sticking up. He yawns.
“Man, we both crashed.” I point to his head.
‘You’re sticking up, dear.”
He pats his hair down. “Man, I’m starving.”
“I was too, so I ate this salad. There are shortbread pepperoni pizzas in the freezer,” I say, throwing away the plastic salad bowl.
“Great,” he says and retrieves two and tosses them in the microwave. That man will eat anything. I make a pot of coffee and pour him and me a cup. At this rate, we’ll be up late. I smell the aroma of straight black coffee and put a little cream and sugar in it for taste. Brock likes his plain. I stare at his arm, that still sports the yellow bandage wrapped around it. I ripped mine off the moment we got home.
“Gonna keep that on all day?” I motion to his arm, and he chuckles and removes it. Just a hint of a prick is noticeable. A small bruise is forming on my arm, which is typical. When I get my blood drawn, I often end up with a blown vein, and they have to do it again. I was told I have small veins and need to stay hydrated when getting blood drawn. This time, I followed the instructions, and they quickly found a good vein. But I bruise easily, always have. It’s the same with my mother and sisters.
We are just settling down to watch March Madness when I hear a knock at the door. Without thinking, I get up and answer it without checking through the peephole. When I open the door, the blood drains from my face.
It can’t be ….
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