Page 150 of Tear Me Apart

NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE

AUGUST 2000

VIVIAN

Vivian sits at the table with a cup of tea, watching Liesel bustle around the house. She has already packed the baby’s things, and really, there is nothing left to do but wait until darkness falls.

It feels strange, counting down the moments until you die.

Of course, she’s been doing it since Zack pulled away. She’d sat on the couch, consumed with a single thought:I need the baby out of me. I can’t take being pregnant another minute. And once she’s out...

The bottle of castor oil was decidedly unpleasant. It, and a few other little tricks, worked to start her labor. She spent the next several long, painful hours running everything through her head, so weary of the blackness, of the sadness.

When her water finally broke, she called her midwife, who hustled on over. She was surprised by the early delivery but winked when she saw the castor oil bottle on the counter. She’s the one who told Vivian to try it when she was to term, after all. She cleaned it all up. Put the house in order while Vivian grunted and moaned.

It was the longest night. The blackest. Vivian feared it would never end. And when it was over, when she was empty, devoid of child, cleaned and stitched and assured the child was healthy, she breathed a sigh of relief.Not much longer.

Liesel, too, now moves about the house, setting it to rights. As she does, they discuss it at length, what would be the easiest way to go, discarding suffocation, shooting, and strangulation. Stabbing is on the table briefly, but Vivian demurs. There is something so awful about the idea of metal entering her body. She already feels violated from the birth; she didn’t want anything else stuck inside her.

Pills, then. Liesel, always exceptionally resourceful, has shown up with a full bottle of Talacen. It is a painkiller, she says, to help control her migraines. Liesel industriously grinds up half of the pills into a pile of death. They save some in case they need more, later. In case it doesn’t work properly.

The plan is set, and breathtakingly simple. Vivian will drink tea laced with the Talacen. It won’t take much to make her stop breathing. Liesel will ransack the house and do something to Vivian’s body so it is clear she’s died in the commission of a burglary. Vivian doesn’t want to know what is coming. It is easier to think she is simply going to go to sleep. Liesel will leave for half an hour, then come to the house to “discover” Vivian’s body, murdered. She will call the police, and they will take the baby into protective custody until Zack can be informed. It won’t take more than a half a day for him to return from Gulf Shores. He’ll come home to the adorable young infant and get on with his life.

What a good friend Liesel is. Helping her plan this.

Only that’s not the way it happens at all.

* * *

“It’s time. Are you ready?”

Vivian nods. Kissing Violet one last time, she hands her sleeping infant to her best friend, who lays her in the crib.

Liesel places the cup in front of her. Pours the tea ceremoniously. It is Earl Grey, her favorite. The pain medicine is already ground up at the bottom, waiting.

Once the liquid is in, Liesel pours honey on top, lots of honey, to mask what they both assume will be a horribly bitter brew. She stirs it, adds more honey, then stirs it again.

“I should put some Scotch in, have a hot toddy. There’s a way to go.”

Liesel laughs absently. “Are you known for drinking?”

“Not really.”

“Then we better not. We don’t want to draw any attention away from what the scene is telling the police. We don’t want them asking questions.”

“How did you learn all of this?”

“I just have a logical mind. Are you ready?”

The baby squawks. She’s been so quiet for the past few hours. As if she doesn’t want to disturb her mother’s final moments.

“If the baby starts to cry...”

Liesel gets up and puts the pacifier back into the baby’s mouth.

“She’s probably hungry. We should feed her first. So she doesn’t wake up.”

Liesel puts her hand on Vivian’s. It’s cool, cold, really. Vivian shivers.