Fruit of the Poisoned Tree (34 page)

Peggy agreed and hung up the phone. Something in the tone of Beth’s father’s voice told her he was lying when he said he knew there was nothing wrong with her. She dialed Beth’s phone number. When she didn’t get an answer, she called her cell phone. When there was no response there either, she put on a sweater and jeans, then peeked in at Shakespeare and decided to take him with her.

It was only a short ride down Providence Road to Myers Park, but it would make her feel better if he was with her. “Promise you won’t trash the house once we get there. And you won’t pull me through a tree.”

The dog wagged his tail and barked enthusiastically. Peggy took that as a good sign and slipped on his leash. She put on her purple jacket and scarf, slipped heavy purple gloves on her hands. “I hope there’s nothing wrong either,” she told the dog as she worried out loud. “But let’s go see.”

Queens Road was completely empty. The traffic lights blinked yellow, glittering on the damp pavement. Peggy raced her bike through the silence, between the shadows of the empty oak trees and the slumbering houses. Shakespeare kept pace with her in his long, loping stride.

All the stores at the corner of Providence Road were shuttered and sleeping. Two police cruisers were parked in the empty parking lot. They were turned so that the driver’s side windows were facing each other as they watched her go by. Peggy would have waved. She probably knew them. But with one hand holding Shakespeare’s leash and the other holding the handlebars, she didn’t think she could manage it.

Providence Road was empty, too. The big Presbyterian church sat squat and solid on the corner. Light showed through the stained glass windows and spilled into the street. Peggy looked at the window where Jesus was tending the flock of sheep. It was comforting somehow to see that image as she rode through the night. Beth was fine. Probably just sleeping heavily. Lord knew she needed a good night’s sleep.

Riding through Myers Park without the standard walkers, runners, baby carriages, and Volvo station wagons was much easier. It gave her a different perspective. She could’ve been in her house asleep like these people. This was what it was like on the outside looking in. She felt like the only person alive in the world. The wind blew through the streets, rattling the winter bones of the trees. She’d be glad to see morning slip over the horizon.

She parked her bike on Beth’s front porch. Shakespeare panted and furiously wagged his tail but otherwise stood at her side as she rang the doorbell over and over. Beth might be angry to be woken up this late. But they’d have a good laugh over some hot tea while she called her parents to let them know she was all right. She’d understand their concern and regret that she missed talking to her boys before bedtime. She was a good mother.

When there was no response to the doorbell, Peggy went around through the wet grass starting to gather frost to the back of the house. She pounded hard on the door and yelled for Beth. There was still no response. She looked up at the dark windows in the house. Beth must be exhausted. She was sleeping like the dead.

The thought caused a shiver to slip down her spine and added renewed vigor to Peggy’s attempts to get in the house. When trying to wake her friend from outside didn’t work, she reached up over the light for the spare key. It was gone. With all the turmoil of recent days, it wasn’t surprising. But the knowledge made her feel even more uneasy.

She looked at the kitchen window, gauging how thick it was. Park had all new windows put in last summer. He wouldn’t thank her for what she was about to do. And insurance might not pay for it. If it didn’t, she’d pay. It was worth it to get into the house and find out what was going on. She was going to feel like a fool if she walked upstairs and Beth was asleep in her bed. But that was a chance she had to take. Too much had happened to this family in a short time to ignore the doubt gnawing at her stomach.

Peggy had never purposely broken a window in her life. She wrapped her scarf around her hand as she’d seen on some television show or movie. It made sense to protect herself from the glass. Shakespeare barked and whined at her side. She shushed him and moved intently toward the window. It was low enough for her to scramble through once she broke it.

Shakespeare barked and whined again, tugging hard at the leash. “I told you that you had to be good.” She turned to him, realizing she might have to tie him up on the porch. He was sitting beside a large, heavy shovel. She looked at her hand, bound in her purple scarf, then back at the dog. “If you’re trying to tell me there’s an easier way, you’re right.”

She took the scarf off her hand and snatched up the shovel. Shakespeare wagged his tail at her choice, then stood quietly beside her as she closed her eyes and smashed the shovel through the window.

Half expecting an alarm to go off, Peggy stood back for a moment. When nothing happened, she used the shovel again to clear all the glass fragments away from the ledge. She tied Shakespeare’s leash to the water spigot under the aperture and pushed herself up and in through the window. Shakespeare started barking as soon as he realized he was about to be left out of the adventure. Peggy ignored him and ran up the stairs to Beth’s bedroom.

Beth was asleep, one arm sprawled above her head. There was a small lamp spreading light across the table and the bed. Peggy looked at her friend’s face. Relief made her sag into a chair beside the table. She was sleeping so peacefully. No hint of all the trauma she’d been through. There were still dark circles in the hollows of her eyes. Tracks that might have been tears stained her face.

Beth was fine. Of course she was fine. Peggy had broken into her house for nothing. She was going to have to buy Beth a new kitchen window because she acted impulsively instead of thinking the matter through. Some researcher!

But she realized as she watched Beth sleeping that she was
too
still,
too
quiet. No one slept that deeply. Not naturally anyway. The lamplight caught on a small plastic bottle on the brown carpet at her feet. She reached down for it. It was a prescription bottle. The top was gone, and it was empty. She looked at the information on the label. It was Nembutal, a barbiturate sleeping aid. The date was from yesterday.
Yesterday!
All the pills were gone! “Oh my God! Beth!”

Peggy frantically dialed 911 on the bedside phone. She barked her location at the operator who answered, then went to help her friend.

If she’d been in bed since before ten p.m., if she’d taken that many pills five hours ago, would she be able to survive?

“Wake up, Beth! You have to wake up!” Peggy jumped on the bed with her friend, pulled back the comforter, and tried to get some response. Beth’s pulse was slow and weak. She roused briefly, trying to speak, but didn’t open her eyes.

“You can’t do this! Think about Reddman and Foxx. They need you. You have to call them.” Peggy grasped at straws. She had to do what she could until the paramedics got there. “You didn’t call them last night. They’re still up waiting for you. You have to call them.”

Beth opened her eyes a little as Peggy forced her into a sitting position. “Peggy?” Her voice was slurred and heavy.

“That’s right. You have to wake up now. Where’s the phone? Foxx and Reddman need to talk to you.”

“Park . . .”

“I know.” Peggy heard the sound of a siren in the street below. “I know you loved him. But you can’t leave yet. You have to hang on. Things will get better.”

The phone on the bedside table rang. The paramedics were pounding on the front door. Peggy left Beth on the bed and ran down to let them in. She answered the phone as the paramedics examined her friend. It was Beth’s parents. Peggy briefly explained what happened and told them they should come quickly.

“She still has a chance,” one of the paramedics said. “We have to get her to Presbyterian Hospital fast. Are you her mother?”

“No,” Peggy answered. “Her parents are on the way.”

Peggy rode in the front of the ambulance with the driver while the other paramedic stayed with Beth in the back. She watched him continue to check Beth’s vital signs as he reported to the hospital.

“Who found her?” The doctor at the emergency room demanded when they finally got to the hospital. “What has she taken?”

Peggy produced the empty bottle from her pocket. “I found her. I think she took these.”

The doctor shook his head. “Jesus Christ! What could be that bad?”

“Her husband was murdered, and she’s been on trial for his death.” Peggy looked at the doctor and shrugged. “Help her, please. I
know
she wants to live.”

“We’ll do what we can. I’ll let you know when I have some idea of what’s going to happen.”

“Thank you.” One of the paramedics showed Peggy to a waiting area. She sank down into an orange plastic chair and buried her face in her hands. She suddenly remembered Shakespeare and reluctantly called Steve to go and rescue the dog after she explained what happened.

“Is she all right?” Steve asked in a voice heavy with sleep.

“I don’t know yet. Shakespeare is tied up in the back of her house. Can you go and get him for me?”

“I’ll get him. What about you? Are you okay?”

“I will be. I’ll talk to you later.” She sat in the chair after shutting the cell phone. She was freezing. Her hands trembled with reaction. She stuffed them into her pockets to warm them. Was there some warning this would happen? Was there something she missed? Some way she could’ve helped that she didn’t see in time?

Beth’s parents called on their way down from Salisbury and managed to find the hospital. They got there about two hours after Peggy. There was still no word on Beth’s condition. The three of them huddled together on the sofa and prayed. The morning that Peggy had wished for as she rode through the night slipped in through the hospital blinds, gilding them gold and pink. She peeked through them, admiring the sunrise but wishing it brought better news with it.

Hunter joined them halfway through the morning. Beth’s close friends and other family members came and went as news seeped out about what happened. They asked about the children, asked if they could do anything to help. Beth’s parents answered that they left the boys with family, their voices hushed and leaden. Everyone said they would pray for the family. No one said the word they were all thinking:
suicide.
The very thing Beth wanted so desperately to erase from Park’s name. When the doctor finally came out, everyone got to their feet, hands joined.

“I think she’s going to be all right. It was a close call, but I think you managed to find her in time. It’s going to take a while for her to recover.” He shook his head. “I realize the tragic circumstances behind this event. But I have no choice but to report any attempt at suicide to the authorities. She’ll have to spend some time in the psych ward. Obviously, she needs help.”

The family thanked him. He was leaving as Al and Jonas showed up. They spoke with the doctor briefly before returning to the family.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Al said to Beth’s parents.

“Like hell!” Her father turned away from his handshake. “You’ve persecuted my daughter. If anyone is responsible, it’s you and this police department.”

Jonas tried to smooth the waters. “We were only doing our job, sir. We did take the blame away from your daughter, too.”

“My daughter would never hurt another human being,” Beth’s mother sobbed. “Not even that evil old woman who loved to give her a hard time. You’ve had the wrong person since the beginning.”

“That appears to be true, ma’am,” Jonas replied. “I’m afraid we all make mistakes sometimes. We do the best we can.”

“Get out of here, you vultures,” Beth’s father demanded. “Leave my daughter alone!”

Al took Peggy to one side. “We actually came to see
you.
We’d like you to come to the precinct and take a look at Davis in a lineup. You said you saw him at the hotel in Philly and again here in Charlotte.”

“I thought you had him on videotape and you have his fingerprints in the hotel room.” Peggy shook her head. “You don’t need me.”

“Truth is, we need this case to be as strong as it can. We don’t have the boy touching the baskets. He walks right by them on the videotape. But that doesn’t mean the tape isn’t wrong or just didn’t catch him doing the deed. Come down to the precinct, Peggy. You always want to help. Now’s your chance.”