Page 145 of Tear Me Apart
Please, can you call me? I need your help.
Love,
V
88
VAIL HEALTH HOSPITAL
It is embarrassing to Lauren, being handcuffed to the gurney like she is a common criminal. The sting of the lidocaine injection makes her flinch, but she sits, stoically silent, as the ER doctor cleans and stitches her arm. Thirty-five stitches on top and bottom from the fucking dog bite, more from where she’d fallen, catching her shoulder on the counter when the dog attacked. She hadn’t even felt the blow; she was completely focused on Mindy’s forlorn, frightened face.
She didn’t mean to point the gun at Mindy.
God, she really didn’t.
In a life defined by impetuous moments and accidental actions, this will haunt her forever. The gun was meant for her, and her alone.
Thirty-five new stitches, to go along with the forty she’d received when she was a girl. She’d told everyone in her life her scar was from a car accident, from her arm plunging through the windshield. Looking at it now, under the glare of the hospital lights, the thin, pale line, straight as an arrow from wrist to elbow, the edges only slightly raised, she is thrown back in time again.
The knife, running through her flesh like butter, the skin parting, the moment of emptiness before the cut fills with blood, the light, airy feeling of her blood pressure dropping, the happiness that she isn’t going to be humiliated any further.The inky darkness, full of peace. The ride to the ER, the siren, the lights. The wrenching horror when she wakes, bandaged. The long walk to the ward.
Vivian.
All roads lead to Vivian. All memories, all love, all hate, rise from the specter of their combined past. Why can’t the bitch stay dead?
Two Vail police officers stand watch over her; their CBI fellow is in front of the door talking animatedly to the Nashville cops. Jasper has joined the group outside in the hall; she can hear his voice demanding to see her. At least Jasper won’t desert her. Jasper will never desert her.
The silent doctor gives her a pill to swallow—“For the pain”—and she takes it gladly. Even with the lidocaine numbing her tender, torn flesh, the dog bite itself hurts like hell. Deep in her body, her soul hurts worse.
When she finishes gulping down the tiny cup of water, she says, “I need to speak to the police. Let them in, please.”
The doctor looks at her in surprise. “You’re sure? Most people in your situation would rather me run interference.”
“I want them, now.”
“Okay.”
He flings back the privacy curtain and disappears into the hallway. The group comes in immediately, clearly curious as to why she’s asking to see them.
“Who will be in charge of prosecuting me?” Lauren asks.
“You have the right to an attorney,” the ski bum starts to say, but she cuts him off.
“I am waiving my rights. There are witnesses. I need to talk to the person in charge.”
“Then that’s me. But I ain’t talking to you without giving you a Miranda warning.”
Jasper immediately goes red with fear and fury. “Lauren, shut your mouth right now. You can’t talk to them until the lawyers—”
“I am going to talk to them. You can stay, or you can go, but I’m going to talk to the police now. I waive my rights.”
“Lauren, the drugs they’ve given you are messing with your mind. I will represent you...”
She shakes her head slightly and smiles sadly. “No, you won’t. I have to do this, Jasper. Please.” And to the cop standing at the foot of the gurney—“Sir, mister... I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Special Agent Stockton. CBI.”
“Agent Stockton, I would like to confess to the murder of Vivian Armstrong.”
