A Spark of Light(24)

“My client’s fetus,” Mandy clarified, “which relied on its host to survive.”

“And if that host does something to cause harm, there should be consequences. If she had been attacked by someone when she was pregnant and lost the baby, wouldn’t you want her attacker pursued? You know if that was the case, you’d be fighting as hard as I am for justice. We’re not going to exclude the perpetrator just because her womb happens to house the child.”

“What about the mother’s rights?” asked Mandy.

“Can’t have it both ways, darlin’,” Willie Cork said. “You don’t get to call her a mother if you aren’t willing to call what’s inside her a baby.”

They were not even whispering anymore, and both lawyers had their backs turned toward Beth. It was as if they had forgotten she was the root of this argument.

It wouldn’t have been the first time.

The reason she was here, now, was that everyone else seemed to have the right to make decisions about her—except Beth herself. She was so damn tired of being a bystander in her own life.

“You don’t have a case,” Mandy challenged.

“Don’t I, though?” the prosecutor slipped his phone from his pocket, punched the screen a couple of times, and started to read aloud. “Mississippi code annotated 97-3-19: The killing of a human being without the authority of law by any means or in any manner shall be murder in the following cases: Subsection A—when done with deliberate design to effect the death of the person killed … or Subsection D—when done with deliberate design to effect the death of an unborn child. And of course, there’s precedent.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Purvi Patel,” Willie Cork began. “Twenty sixteen. She took the same pills your client did to terminate her pregnancy, at twenty-four weeks. Got them from a Hong Kong online pharmacy. When the baby died after birth, she was charged with a Class A felony. She was convicted and sentenced to twenty years for feticide and child neglect.”

“The evidence wasn’t clear in the Patel case that the baby was born alive,” Mandy argued. “And the conviction was overturned.”

“Bei Bei Shuai drank rat poison to commit suicide when she was thirty-three weeks pregnant. Her baby died, but she didn’t, and she was charged with murder and attempted feticide and sentenced to thirty years,” the prosecutor replied.

“And the charges against her were dropped after she pleaded guilty to a lesser charge and spent a year in custody.” Mandy folded her arms. “Every case you’ve cited has been thrown out or dismissed.”

“Regina McKnight,” the prosecutor said. “Successfully prosecuted in South Carolina for homicide following a stillbirth caused by prenatal ingestion of crack cocaine. She got a twelve-year sentence.”

“Are you kidding? McKnight wasn’t even trying to have an abortion,” Mandy argued.

“You’re not making your point here, darlin’. You’re making mine. If those women were charged with murder and intent wasn’t even involved, imagine how easy it’s gonna be to lock up your girl.”

The door swung open, and a new cop entered. “You will not leave this room,” Willie Cork ordered. “Not even if the building is on fire around you. And you,” he said to Mandy, “well, good luck, Counselor.”

Mandy faced him. “As long as Roe v. Wade stands, my client had every right to terminate her pregnancy.”

“Yes,” the prosecutor agreed. “But in Mississippi, she didn’t have the right to do it by herself. That, my dear, is murder.”

Murder. Beth flinched, and her handcuff scraped the rail. Both attorneys whirled around at the same moment, realizing she was awake.

“I—I’m sorry,” Beth stammered.

“Little late for that, isn’t it?” Willie Cork said, and he sailed out the door.

—


GEORGE GODDARD’S VOICE CRACKLED THROUGH Hugh’s phone. “I believe,” he said, “that I have something of yours.”

He knows, Hugh thought. He knows about Wren.

Hugh shivered, even though it had to be ninety degrees outside. He flicked his eyes over the small group huddled around his command center and nodded. Quandt slipped on a pair of headphones to listen in. “George,” Hugh said evenly, not taking the bait. “I heard a shot. What happened? Are you hurt?”

Remind the hostage taker you’re on his side.

“Those bitches tried to shoot me.”

Hugh glanced at the SWAT commander. “So you weren’t the one who fired the gun?”

“I had to. They stabbed me.”

Hugh closed his eyes. “Do you need medical help?” he asked, although he really didn’t give a fuck if George bled to death.

“I’ll live.”

Quandt raised one brow.

“What about … everyone else? Did someone get hurt?”

“The old lady,” George said.

“Does she need medical attention?”

There was a flicker of silence. “Not anymore,” George said.

Hugh thought about Bex, about all that blood. “Anyone else, George?”

“I didn’t shoot your daughter, if that’s what you’re asking,” George said. “Now I know why you didn’t send in the SWAT team.”