Miracle Creek(96)

“No, I can’t,” Shannon said, her words finally losing that veneer of forced calmness. “I can argue it till I’m blue in the face, but if the jury thinks you hurt Henry, they won’t want to side with you, no matter who they think really set the fire. They’ll want to punish you.”

“Then let them. I deserve it, anyway. I won’t let you bring innocent people into this.”

“But they—”

“Stop,” Elizabeth said. “I want this over. I want to plead guilty.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry, I really am, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t go back in there for one more second.”

“All right, all right,” Shannon said. “Let’s calm down here. If it bothers you that much, we won’t do it. I’ll just focus on the point that the scratch is not relevant to the ultimate—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Elizabeth said. “It’s not just this. It’s everything. The scratch, Pak, the protesters, Teresa, the video, I need it all to stop. I want to plead guilty. Today.”

Shannon didn’t say anything, just took deep breaths through her nose, mouth clamped shut, as if trying hard not to lose it. When she finally spoke, her words were overly slow, like those of a mother reasoning with a tantruming toddler. “A lot’s happened today. I think you need a break, we all do. I’ll ask the judge to adjourn for the day, and we can all sleep on it.”

“That won’t change anything.”

“Fine. If you still feel like this tomorrow, we can go to the judge. But you need to really think this through. You owe me that much.”

Elizabeth nodded and said, “Okay. Tomorrow,” even though she knew she wouldn’t change her mind. They could throw her in prison and melt the key into a metallic puddle and she wouldn’t care. Thinking this, knowing everything would end soon, Elizabeth felt her panic of the past moments lift, restoring her senses. It was like when your foot falls asleep, the numbness turning to tingling, itching, then pain as it awakens, except it was happening to her whole body. Suddenly, she was aware of her sweat, the stickiness around her hairline, the wetness under her arms. “I’m going to the bathroom. I need some water on my face.” She left without waiting for a response.

She saw Young almost immediately, in a phone booth a few steps away. From her angle, she could see the side of Young’s face, sallow and pasty, the way her shoulders drooped like a marionette with cut strings. She thought of Young pushing Pak’s wheelchair into court, the man who became paralyzed because he tried to help Henry and Kitt. And now her own lawyer was vilifying him, all to divert blame away from her.

Elizabeth stopped and waited for Young. After a few minutes, Young hung up and came out. The moment their eyes met, Young gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. No. It was more than surprise. It was fear. And something else she couldn’t quite make out—lips quivering, knitted brow, eyes drooping at the outer edges. It looked like sorrow and repentance, but that didn’t make sense. She must be misreading it, like when you stare at a word too long, and even a simple word like are looks foreign and you no longer know how to pronounce it. The expression on Young’s face had to be pure hostility for putting her family through misery.

Elizabeth stepped toward her. “Young, I want you to know how sorry I am. I didn’t know that my lawyer was going to blame Pak. Please tell him how sorry I am. I wish this week had never happened. I promise this’ll be over soon.”

“Elizabeth, I am…” Young bit her lip and looked away, as if unsure what to say. “I hope this will end very soon,” Young finally said before walking away.

Tomorrow, Elizabeth wanted to call out. I’m pleading guilty tomorrow. The words were bursting out of her. “I’m pleading guilty tomorrow,” she said, softly, but aloud. It was ridiculous. She was getting sent to death row, not getting married. Still, now that she’d decided, her relief was ballooning into excitement, making her wish she had a friend to share it with. Plus, apologizing to Young had siphoned out some of her guilt. This confirmed it. She was right to want to end everything as soon as possible.

She went into the bathroom, took some toilet paper, and wiped the sweat off her face. On her way out, she ran into Shannon and Andrew, who were going to meet with the judge. Anna was still in the room, on the phone. When she walked in, Anna closed her laptop and mouthed, “One minute—I’ll be right outside,” and left.

Elizabeth sat at the table and put her hands by the fan to cool off. Anna’s laptop was sitting on some papers, and she was tempted to read it. No. None of it mattered. Their strategies, arguments, witnesses—irrelevant. She looked around and saw her purse next to Shannon’s purse and briefcase in the corner. She’d been wondering where she left that. As she went to get it, she saw a legal notepad in Shannon’s briefcase pocket. It was crooked, and a partial phrase peeked out. GUILTY PLEA CH—

Guilty plea change? Guilty plea chance? Guilty plea chat?

Elizabeth moved the notepad with one finger, just enough to make out the phrase. In Shannon’s neat handwriting, on the top left corner, read GUILTY PLEA CHALLENGE? She lifted the notepad out. It was a bullet-point list in Shannon’s handwriting:

? VA guilty plea req.—“knowing, voluntary & intelligent” met if mentally incompetent? (Anna)