“Is it that bad?”
Brent shrugged. “I’m not a fan of any of it. I still would rather that you plead not guilty. There’s enough circumstantial—”
“No. I’m not doing that. Then I’d be taking a chance on a jury and who knows how long it would all take. I want to do this and pay my debt. I want to come clean. For the first fuck’n time in my life, I want to do the right thing.”
“Tony, that’s not true. Don’t get me wrong: you’ve done some messed-up shit, but you’ve done good things too. Don’t be a martyr.”
“I’m hardly a martyr. I’m not doing this to save anyone but myself. I already confessed this shit to the FBI. I can’t live with the idea that one day, when I have my family back, there’ll be a knock on the door and my world will crash in around me. I’m laying my cards on the table and cashing in my chips. Tell me what kind of deal you and Evergreen came up with so that I can get out of prison sooner rather than later.”
As Brent sat and opened the envelope, his tired eyes swirled with emotion. “I sat in on Catherine’s arraignment this afternoon. She’s been charged with seven counts of murder. There isn’t enough evidence yet with the Rawlings’ plane to incriminate her.”
“She fuck’n admitted it to me in my office—it’s on tape.”
“She implied it. There wasn’t an explicit confession. Now she’s claiming total innocence.”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you sure we should wait on that drink?”
Brent shrugged. “Do you have anything less strong than the Johnny Walker? I’d rather save that for later.”
Tony’s dark eyes widened. “As a matter of fact I do. Wine?”
“All these years and I never knew you were running a damn liquor store in here.”
Tony left the office and returned with Patricia’s bottle of wine. “Might as well finish this off.” As he poured, Tony asked, “Seven? Did they list names?”
“Yes, Nathaniel Rawls, Samuel and Amanda Rawls, Sherman Nichols, Jordon and Shirley Nichols, and Allison Burke Bradley.”
Tony lowered his head to the table and wearily lifted it back up. “That’s the better part of Nichol’s family tree.”
Brent nodded.
“Those names go way back.”
“There’s no statute of limitation on murder.”
“She didn’t personally… I mean other than Nathaniel and my parents… right?”
“Murder for hire resulting in death carries the same penalty as murder.”
“Will they be able to prove it? That she was involved?”
“I’m not privy to all the information. From what I’ve gleaned, the FBI has extensive research connecting the cases with the poison that she used.” Brent took a drink. “There’s more.”
“More charges? Are we still talking about Catherine?”
“Yes, we’ll get to you later. They’re also charging her with attempted murder—four counts.”
Tony’s brows rose. “Maybe I’ve drunk too much. There’s John and Emily. Who else did she try to murder, but fail?”
“From the video, there’s evidence of her pointing the gun at Claire.”
“All right, that makes three…”
Brent leaned forward. “You, Tony. She poisoned you. She’s claiming you knew all about it, but Evergreen is fighting her on it. He didn’t like being played, with your accusations against Claire and then your public change of heart and recantation. It made him look bad. Charging her puts an end to that case forever. You had that same unique poison in your system. He’s running with it.”
Tony collapsed against the chair. “Will I need to testify?”
“Would you perjure yourself?”
“I don’t want to. But then again, I want her to rot.”
Brent swallowed the deep red liquid from his crystal tumbler. “I recommend that you stick to your original testimony. You didn’t know anything other than drinking the coffee and waking up.”
Tony nodded.
“The press is calling her a serial killer.”
“Who else was at the arraignment?”
“They barred the press, but people with a connection were given special dispensation.”
Tony peered over the rim of the tumbler before he drank, and said, “The Vandersols were there, weren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“What about Cindy? I haven’t spoken to her since she’s learned the truth.”
“She’s pretty broken up. We’re trying to work something out with her to avoid a civil case. I mean you’ve taken care of her for years.”
Tony looked down. “I thought we were, but she did work. It’s not like we just let her live at the estate.”
“She was paid, had a roof over her head, and her education was being paid for. So she served food and cleaned. It was a hell of a lot better than what would have happened to her had you not stepped in after the death of her parents.”
Tony shook his head. “Yes, which sounds great, with one exception: her parents died because of us.”
“Let’s talk about that.”
Each player must accept the cards life deals him or her: but once they are in hand, he or she alone must decide how to play the cards in order to win the game.
—Voltaire