“The first thing we’re going to say to you is this: next week at your trial—if you make it that long—you’re going to plead guilty and save the tax payers a lot of money,” Cara says, starting things off for us.
He shakes his head. “I’m going to walk.”
“How do you figure?” I ask, leaning forward. There’s no judge in his or her right mind that would let this scum walk, not with the evidence stacked against him.
“Donna. She’s going to testify for me. She won’t corroborate anything you guys say. Plus, there’s my father. Do you think he’ll testify against me? Besides, the one person left to pin any charges on me is dead now.”
The room grows silent as we take in what he’s saying. He doesn’t have a clue that Frannie is dead. It’s Evan who starts laughing first, followed by the rest of us. I place my hand on Evan, letting him know I need to talk.
“Who’s dead now?”
“Your wife. I’m sorry you didn’t get to say good-bye.” He bats his eyelashes as if he means well. I take deep breath and pretend like I’m torn up on the inside. I’m not because I spoke with Penny yesterday and I know she’s alive. “I do plan to have some fun with that delectable daughter of yours though.”
Before anyone can stop me, my knife is out and digging into his neck. The guard is being ever so helpful by holding his head still for me. A small path of blood starts to drip as he swallows, increasing his heart rate.
“Do you feel that, Lawson? Your pulse is quickening and you’re fucking scared.” I drag my knife ever so slowly, watching more blood rise to the surface. I pause at his pulse point and see nothing but fear in his eyes. “One move and you’re done. You’ll bleed out before anyone can come in here and save you. Say one more thing about my daughter and I’ll end your life. Do you understand me?” He’s afraid to move so he blinks twice, and it takes me a beat or two before I sit back down, leaving my knife on the table so he can see his blood on the blade.
“If you mean Frannie, she’s dead,” River says as what little color was left in Lawson’s face drains away. “I shot her months ago. So really, you’re going to walk into court and plead guilty because if I have to get up on the stand and recount everything I know, I’m going to be pissed. But if Penelope McCoy has to get up on that stand and look at your smug ass sitting in the chair, the only way you’re leaving the court house is in a body bag. If you think I’m joking, try me.”
The guard uses this opportunity to lean down and say, “Wow, I think you’ve made some really good friends here. They’re willing to put you out of your misery.”
Lawson rolls his eyes, but otherwise doesn’t say anything.
“Why?” River asks. He doesn’t elaborate and there isn’t really a need to. The question is self-explanatory.
Lawson shrugs. “Donna and I were alone a lot as kids and I started experimenting on her. At first, she was scared and wouldn’t come to our dad’s a lot or she’d hang out with my mom, even though my mom hated her. My dad had an affair that resulted in Donna so my mom didn’t want her around. Anyway, when she hit puberty I guess she got horny and wanted to know what shit felt like so I showed her.”
“But you didn’t stop there?” Rask states.
“Nope, couldn’t. My dad even tried with therapy and it’d work for a bit, but when I went into the Senate all the young interns we’re eager to please me. The best ones were the shy and timid ones who wore those short skirts, but still had their cherries. I remember each one I popped.”
His head goes flying into the table again, this time much harder. When he’s able to lift up, his eyes are dazed.
“Why the cover-up? Why tell everyone we were dead?” Evan asks.
“Because you couldn’t just do the job you were sent to do, you had to go and kill my friend and open the hive. All my hard work, lost.” He looks off toward the window, likely remembering his victims, although to him they’re not victims, but conquests.
“You’re one sick mother fucker, you know that?” I say.
He shrugs. “There’s no cure for what I have.”
“Yes there is, it’s called death. The world would be a better place if you weren’t in it.”
Lawson laughs. “I don’t know why you’re all so bitter; you got your lives back.”
“Our lives and the lives of our families were destroyed. And since we’ve been back we’ve been battling a barrage of shit that you created because you were afraid of getting caught. Did you really think this was all going to go away and that we’d never work to bring you to justice?” Rask questions, but Lawson doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at Rask when he’s speaking.
“No, he seriously thought he’d get away with it,” River adds much to my agreement.
“Oh and, McCoy, do you ever lie awake at night, wondering how my lovely Donna had photos of your sweet Claire?”
I do every night and am afraid of the answer. I fear that if Lawson tells me, and I tell Penny, it’ll shatter her world. I can’t do that. Instead, I smugly shake my head and don’t give him the satisfaction of needing to know. Some things are better left untold.
“Times up,” the guard says, ending our conversation. I don’t know if I feel relieved or not, but I do have some perverse satisfaction in knowing that he’s bleeding because of me.
Lawson is forced to stand and takes one last look at us. “Is Donna really dead?”
“Yes,” we say in unison.