Page 140 of Tear Me Apart

Her hand leaves the door, and she retreats silently back down the stairs.

* * *

There are police in front of Juliet’s door.

Which means Lauren needs yet another a distraction.

She has the gun, but shooting it will bring all the attention her way, and she isn’t quite ready for that. The gun is small, a Saturday night special, .38 caliber, normally stashed under the front seat of Juliet’s truck, just in case she’s carjacked, or attacked by an animal. Juliet is so stupid. Believing Lauren was looking for her glove. She certainly hadn’t looked to see if her gun was missing. Naïve, stupid little girl.

Lauren takes a deep breath and steps out of the stairwell. The fire alarm is right next to the door. She pulls the red bar. The screaming begins. Confusion sets in. A robotic voice can be heard telling everyone on the floor to evacuate immediately.

The two cops move toward the nurses’ station to get their orders, and she slips into her sister’s room right behind their backs. Lauren clings to the wall, assessing the situation.

Juliet has a tube going into her mouth, and it takes Lauren a moment to register the thought—the machine is breathing for her—before she steps to the wall and pulls the plug. Juliet jerks immediately, then her body relaxes. Lauren leaves the room without a backward glance.

That’s Juliet, handled.

She steps into the crowd heading toward the stairwell, blending in with the people being evacuated. There is no klaxon wail from the machine in Juliet’s room, but instead, it comes from the nurses’ station. Damn it, she forgot the nurses’ station. The beeping is nearly drowned out by the fire alarm, but she’s not that lucky. Behind her, a nurse and the cops rush back to Juliet’s room. One of the cops breaks off and heads toward the stairwell. Lauren glances over her shoulder to see the man’s face distorted, his finger pointing, his mouth open in a yell that’s being drowned out by the noise, and she slips into the stairwell as he starts toward her.

They are on alert now. She must move quickly.

She runs two steps at a time against the stream of people up to the third floor. She ignores the warning shouts, bursts out onto the third-floor hallway and heads directly to Mindy’s room.

The evacuation is going smoothly, but Jasper and Zack are standing by the door with the two Nashville cops. Damn it. She needs them to move away. She has to get inside. She has to talk to Mindy.

She edges along the wall, knowing this is her last chance. The door is shut; Mindy is still in isolation.

As suddenly as it began, the fire alarm shuts off. People stop in their tracks, looking confused. The small crowd by Mindy’s room take a few steps away. Zack is pointing out the window at something, she has no idea what, but their collective gaze is averted, and she bolts for her daughter’s room.

Five feet, three, two, they’re still looking away, and she reaches for the handle. She flings open the door and slips inside. But as she does, she trips, and something knocks her off her feet, and she goes down, hard, her shoulder smacking into the door, which swings closed as if caught in a draft. It slams behind her, loudly. She scrambles to her feet and turns the lock just as Zack and Jasper and the cops turn to see her, their mouths open, calling. Hands go to waists to pull weapons, the door handle starts to rattle, but Lauren is already looking toward her daughter. She rips off the wig.

Mindy is groggy and bleary-eyed in the bed. Lauren feels a rush of love; she recognizes this state. Her daughter has just woken up. Must have been the fire alarm.

“Mom? Is that you?”

“Sweetie, yes, it’s me. I am so sorry, darling. I know you’re scared, and there is so much to explain—”

A low growl starts near her leg. Lauren looks down in horror to realize that somehow, Zack’s dog has gotten into the room.

84

The Malinois moves like lightning, putting herself between Mindy and Lauren, hackles raised, teeth glistening. Angered as she is, she looks more like a wolf than a dog, and Lauren is afraid to look away. Maintain eye contact but don’t try to stare them down? No, with dogs, no eye contact, so it’s the same when you’re about to be attacked by a wolf. It will be seen as aggression. Make yourself bigger. Wave your arms and shout. Throw things at them. Or so the literature says. They live in the woods; Lauren knows what to do if faced with all sorts of wild animal attacks.

But there is nothing to protect herself with. This room is cleared of all extraneous blankets and pillows. The IV pole is on the other side of the bed.

“Mindy, darling, call off the dog. I know she’ll listen to you.”

“Mom, what have you done? Tell me the truth, what did you do to Aunt Juliet? Is it true? Did you kill Vivian Armstrong and steal me? I saw your letters. I know you were in the hospital with her. I know you tried to kill yourself. Those scars on your arm aren’t from a car crash. Why did you lie to me?”

The plaintive note breaks Lauren’s heart. This isn’t how things were supposed to go. Mindy is accusing her of something that she can’t answer fully without a long talk. It upsets her, she who has become so touchy, so feral, in these last few days.

Sensing the change in Lauren’s demeanor, the dog growls, low and mean, crouching down on her front legs. There is banging now—Zack is pounding on the door, Jasper on the window—but Lauren ignores everyone but the dog. And Mindy, of course.She read the letters; she knows everything.

Kat inches forward, lips trembling with her growls, and Lauren stamps her foot and raises her arms.

“Bad dog. Bad!”

Kat growls louder, showing her teeth.