Chapter 12
Nicole
The interrogation room at the New Hampshire State Police Station was tiny. No windows. Gray walls. And a plastic table with four plastic chairs. A red light blinked on the camera in the corner as it recorded us.
Detective Nolan sat across from us. Lacey sat between Jack and me. A closed yellow folder lay in the middle of the table.
Nolan leaned on his elbows, hands folded, shoulders rounded. He looked a little lost. He had agreed to let me sit in. I told him I was staying for this, and he let it slide. Which was kind, considering it was his call, and he could have thrown me out.
“She hasn’t said a single word since the incident?
” he asked. He already knew the answer. He had been sitting here with us for over two hours.
Going over everything. Over and over again.
And Lacey hadn’t looked up once. Her head was tipped down toward her lap.
Her hands rested limp on her knees. Her face was so pale.
How was this the same woman who used to wake up every morning with a smile?
I shook my head. “Not a single peep. The psychiatrist said it’s Functional Neurological Symptom Disorder. He said the trauma made her brain shut off to protect itself from overload or something like that. Like an electrical outlet that trips when you fry it.”
Nolan let out a slow breath through his nose. “How long will it take for her to talk again?”
“The doctor doesn’t know.” My voice came out thin. “It could be days. Months. He said it’s hard to tell.”
Nolan nodded once. “Okay. Are you at least willing to sign a HIPAA form to let me look at the psychiatrist’s notes?”
“Yes,” I said at the same time Jack said, “No.”
Nolan’s eyebrows lifted. His gaze went back and forth between us.
“We could have Dr. Sanchez share the diagnosis,” I said to Jack. My hand settled on Lacey’s knee.
Jack thought about it. Then gave a quick nod. “We can sign a release form for the diagnosis only. But nothing else.”
The room grew quiet, feeling smaller by the second. Nolan stared at the yellow folder. His fingers brushed the edges. Then his gaze flicked from Lacey to me, back to the folder, then to Lacey again.
Then he shook his head.
“All right. For tonight, we’ll leave it at that,” he said. “But I need that confirmation of her diagnosis ASAP. An explanation from the psychiatrist would go a long way too.”
“So, no arrest?” Jack clarified.
“No. You can leave. But stay in town for the rest of the investigation.”
Relief hit so fast it made my shoulders drop and my head tilt back.
The door to the interrogation room opened before I could stand.
A woman walked in with two uniformed officers behind her.
She moved like she owned the room and everyone in it. Her red hair was pulled back tight in a braid. She had sharp cheekbones and sparkly green eyes. Her well-fitted navy-blue suit was expensive, no doubt.
Nolan moved his chair back and rose. “Kara. What a surprise to see you. Without any heads-up.” Annoyance was in every word.
“That’s because last time I checked, the attorney general’s office didn’t need a detective’s approval for anything.”
She grinned at him and dragged the extra plastic chair from the corner to the table.
“Deputy Attorney General Kara Belmont,” she said by way of introduction. “I’m overseeing this case now, under direct instruction from the attorney general’s office.”
She grabbed the yellow folder from the table and pulled something out.
A photograph.
She held it up.
My head jerked back before my brain caught up.
It was an image of Zach. From the murder scene.
His eyes and mouth were wide open. Like his screams never fully made it out.
He lay across the front seats of his car with his head tipped back.
His chest barely looked human anymore. Just ripped flesh and torn fabric.
His gut was hanging out too. Blood was everywhere.
So much of it that my brain struggled to believe what I was seeing.
This wasn’t just a murder. This was a massacre!
“Oh, God.” I gagged on the words. I bent sideways and grabbed for the trash can on the floor, but it was too late. My stomach lurched up my throat, and I threw up hard. Acid burned the back of my nose. The room filled with the sour smell of vomit.
“Kara. What the hell are you doing?” Nolan snapped.
“You can shut up and stay or complain and leave,” she said without even looking at him.
Her eyes stayed on Lacey.
“Does this man look familiar?” she asked. Her tone went flat and stern. “Might be a little hard to make him out under all this blood, but this is Zach Nabb. Stabbed over forty times. Right next to you.”
“Stop this!” Jack’s chair scraped loudly against the floor as he shot to his feet. “You may not use graphic crime scene photos to pressure my client. We’re done here.”
“No, we’re not,” Belmont countered. “Lacey Alderwyn, you are now under arrest. Before we continue, I’m going to read you your rights.”
I wiped my mouth with my sleeve, tasting bile. “What?”
The deputy AG kept going with an iron facial expression, as if she’d done this countless times before in other vomit-filled rooms. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. Looks like you already have one. But if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you by the court. You have the right to remain silent and stop answering questions at any time. Do you understand these rights as I’ve read them to you? ”
Lacey kept staring into the distance. Blank. Pupils large.
Belmont seemed to take her silence as defiance and rose from her chair. “I take that as a yes,” she said. Then she leaned forward and held Zach’s picture inches from Lacey’s face.
“Kara, stop,” Nolan demanded.
“Look at your friend Zach, Lacey,” Belmont demanded. “Why did you do this to him?”
“Stop it!” I shot to my feet and reached across the table to grab the photo out of her hand. One of the officers caught me from behind before I could grasp it. Strong hands clamped around my arms and yanked me back.
The room exploded.
“Stop it, Kara!” Nolan snapped.
“Let her go,” Jack ordered.
“Don’t look, Lacey!” I yelled over everyone. Over the chaos.
My heartbeat was up in my throat. Jack was fighting with the officer holding me, arguing and threatening. AG Belmont talked over him. The camera in the corner was recording as if all of this was just a TV show.
And in the middle of it, Lacey.
In all that noise, she moved her head.
Just a little.
Her chin lifted first. Then her gaze came up from her lap, inch by inch. But she didn’t look at the photo. She looked straight at Kara Belmont.
The room went dead silent.
Everyone stared at her. Watching. Waiting.
For the first time in over a week, Lacey’s lips moved.
Her mouth parted.
Belmont looked as shocked as the rest of us. As if her iron spine went soft. Quickly, she pointed at the picture again. Didn’t want to lose the moment.
“Lacey, look at him,” Belmont pressed. “His blood was all over you, Lacey. And your DNA was found on him.”
“Of course her DNA was on him,” Jack objected. “They knew each other and were in close contact.”
She ignored him.
“Tell me why you did it,” she pressed, “and I swear I’ll make sure this is done quietly, so your family and kids won’t be the center of a murder trial.”
Silence again.
Then Lacey’s gaze slowly moved from Belmont to the photo. Her pupils widened. Her lower lip trembled. She looked like a little girl for a split second, lost in a place nobody could reach.
“Sweetheart, no.” The words ripped out of me.
But it was too late.
Lacey’s eyes flew wide open. All white around the brown. Her whole face changed in front of us. Something tore loose in her, and her mouth opened, and the sound that came out didn’t sound like her at all. Or human.
A high-pitched scream blasted out of her as if hell itself had opened a door under the table.
“Make her stop!” Belmont shouted as her hands covered her ears.
Lacey’s scream intensified. The sound split the air. It wasn’t just loud; it hurt. It drilled straight through the top of my skull and dug down into my spine. Like something from an exorcism movie.
“Lacey!” I twisted out of the officer’s grip. He released me with a curse, and I lurched toward her.
The scream kept coming in jagged bursts. Lacey didn’t blink. Her whole body shook as if possessed. She sucked in a ragged, choking breath before screaming again. And again. And again.
It was the worst moment of my life.
My ears rang. My heart pounded so hard my ribs ached.
“Get her out of here,” the deputy AG yelled. “Now!”
The two officers moved quickly, as if they had finally woken up. Cold cuffs snapped around Lacey’s wrists. She didn’t fight. She only kept screaming. They dragged her up from the chair, out of the interrogation room, and into the hallway.
“Let her go!” I shouted after them. I tried to grab her, but Jack caught me. His arm wrapped around me and held me tightly across my stomach.
“Let me go,” I begged him. My throat burned. My chest burned. Tears blurred the hallway, where every door along it was now open wide. Officers stood there, curious, with wide eyes. Everyone watched as they hauled Lacey down the hall.
Even after she turned the corner and I couldn’t see her anymore, she kept screaming. It bounced off the walls and came back to slam into me again, sounding like the end of the world coming from down the hallway.
Tears ran down my face. I kept shouting for her. My daughter. My baby. I’m here. I’m right here.
Lacey’s voice bled out somewhere deep in the building, and I couldn’t hear her anymore.
Then my knees gave out, and I dropped. The floor was cold on my legs.
Belmont rushed past me in panic. Her black high heels banged against the floor as she fled. No more sass now. She didn’t even look at me.
“We’ll let you know where they take her,” she said in a shaky tone.
Then she was gone. Her footsteps faded. The hallway noise settled, and, one by one, officers slipped back into their rooms.