Redemption (Amos Decker #5)(108)

Her lips trembled. “Do you mean I could go to jail? But I’m innocent.”

“Like your father? He was innocent. And he still went to jail. Then someone put a bullet in his head. They didn’t even let him die peacefully.”

Decker sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at her.

“This is the moment, Mitzi. The crossroads. Now is the time where you can make the right decision instead of the selfish one. You can correct a lot of wrongs. Will you do it? Do you have the courage to do that?”

“What if I don’t?” she said, drawing her legs up and gathering the covers around her.

“Then you go to jail. It’s as simple as that.”

“I’m going to jail regardless.”

“Not necessarily. Or you could hang out here until someone tries to kill you, like they did with Rachel Katz.”

He glanced at her nightstand and started when he eyed the half-empty prescription pill bottle. “How many pills did you take?” he snapped.

“Not that many,” she said hesitantly.

“How many is that?”

“Four or five.”

He snatched up the bottle and read the label. “Christ, Mitzi.”

He called 911 and requested an ambulance, pronto, for a possible drug overdose.

She lay back against the headboard and looked around the room. She smiled. “I have a perfect life; did you know that?”

“Tell me about it.”

“Can’t you see for yourself? Perfect home, perfect husband. Perfect child.” She uncovered her bare legs. “Perfect body.” She tapped her teeth. “First-rate veneers to hide the shitty, ugly gray.” She covered herself back up as her smile faded. “But the shitty, ugly gray is right below the surface. Right underneath. They couldn’t take that away. It’ll always be with me.”

“But you made the change. That was a lot of work. You had to be determined. It wasn’t easy kicking what you kicked.”

“It…it was either do that or end up dead.” She looked at him defiantly. “I chose to live.”

“I’m glad you did. Now you have a family. A son who’s counting on you. So choose to live this time too.”

Her lips trembled when he said this. She rubbed at her eyes. “But now, it’s…a-all effed up. I don’t k-know what to…”

As Decker listened to this, he saw her eyes becoming droopy, her features more and more listless. He let a few seconds pass and, trying to keep his voice calm, asked, “Do you have any Narcan here?”

She smiled and shook her head. “That’s for druggies. I’m not a druggie. Not anymore. I am the princess of the manor. The lady is perfect. Everybody says so.”

“Are you sure it was just four or five pills?” he said quickly.

She stretched out like a cat. “Maybe it was more. I don’t remember.” She lay back and closed her eyes.

“Stay with me, Mitzi. Come on now.” He sat down next to her and slapped her face. It was a poor substitute for Narcan, but he had to do something.

“Hey,” she said angrily, swatting at him. “Y-you a-assaulted m-me.”

“You framed your father. Why?”

She didn’t answer.

“Why?” he said, shaking her. “Come on, talk to me.”

“I did it for drugs.”

“For drugs? You mean for you?”

She waved this comment off. “No, stupid. For Mom. Morphine. For her drip line. Pure stuff. Right from the hospital. Gave it to her t-till she died. And she died p-peacefully. All I could do for her. But it was s-something, right?”

“Right. Who got it for you?”

“They did.”

“Who’s they?”

She waved her hand around the room. “You know. Them!”

She yawned and closed her eyes.

He slapped her again. This time, she didn’t complain. Or open her eyes.

Shit.

He could hear the sirens now.

Decker gripped Mitzi’s shoulders to keep her upright as she started to slump sideways. “What did they promise you, Mitzi? A new life? A new everything? Did Rachel Katz help you out? Did she become your mentor?”

Mitzi mumbled, “She’s a n-nice person. H-helped me.”

“I bet she did. So they killed her husband and Don Richards. And the others. And set up your dad.”

“Set him…up.”

“And how did they approach you?”

“Ka, Kar…”

“Karl Stevens. Right. He was the go-between. Who was he working with?”

“He’s dead. You tol’ me…d-dead.”

The sirens were growing closer.

“That’s right, he’s dead. But you’re not. You can tell me all about it.”

She shook her head. “Too l-late for th-that.”

“It’s never too late for the truth.”

She started to fall sideways. He slapped her again. To no effect. The sirens had been growing louder and louder all this time. Then the sound died. They were in the driveway.

“Karl Stevens is dead, that’s right. But who was he working with? Did it have something to do with the American Grill? Bill Peyton? Do you know him? Peyton?”

She opened her eyes.