She can only mutely shake her head.
“We found blood and DNA belonging to a kid named Braden Lundie,” he says. “A kid who disappeared three years ago. The police are digging up your backyard as we speak. Any idea what they’re going to find?”
Suzette seems to be having trouble breathing. She looks like she is at a complete loss for words, much as I was when Ramirez told me that piece of information when we were in his car. Unfortunately for her, I am no longer at a loss for words.
“You’re the accessory to the murder of a little boy, Suzette,” I hiss at her. “You’re going to jail for the rest of your life. And you deserve it.” A lump forms in my throat. “You knew that your husband murdered a child, and you didn’t tell a soul. You let your husband walk free. You still let my kid into your home! How could you? What is wrong with you?”
Suzette buries her face in her hands for a moment. She still hasn’t said a word.
“Mrs. Lowell?” Ramirez says.
When Suzette lifts her face from her hands, her cheeks are streaked with tears. “I didn’t know about Braden until after. I swear. If I had known…”
“But you did know,” Ramirez says in a low growl. “You knew what he did, and you didn’t call the police. You didn’t tell anyone.”
“What would have been the point? It was too late!”
I’m sick to my stomach. Janice mentioned that kid who went missing years ago, but I thought she was being dramatic, especially after Suzette claimed the boy had been found. It turns out Janice was the one who had it right. The fact that Suzette said it’s too late means there will not be a happy ending for that family.
“I hated him too, you know.” She wipes the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “I couldn’t even stand to be in the same house with that man. But I stayed with him to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t do anything… you know, like that ever again. I kept any other children from getting hurt.”
I glare at her. “Wow, you’re a saint.”
“Millie,” she murmurs, “if I called the police, do you know what that would have done to my life? I would have been the wife of a child murderer. Do you know what that would have been like?”
I shake my head. “You’re despicable, Suzette.”
At least she has the good grace to hang her head.
“Detective Ramirez came here to bring you to the police station,” I say. “But I talked him out of it. Instead, we’re going to give you another choice.”
Suzette looks up at me in surprise. I glance at Ramirez, who nods at me, and then I continue. “You need to confess to your husband’s murder. Say you killed him because you found out what he was doing in that room, and that’s why your fingerprints are all over the room. You can call it self-defense.”
“You want me to lie?” she gasps.
“You got another choice,” Ramirez speaks up. “Second choice, you let Enzo Accardi go down for a murder he didn’t do, and then we prosecute you for conspiring to kill that little kid. And believe me, we will go after you hard.”
Suzette stares at us, shaking her head. “But I didn’t kill Jonathan.”
“But if you did, nobody would blame you, right? You get a good lawyer—which you can afford—and you might not go to jail at all. But if they nail you for that kid… or even if people think you were involved, which we both know they will…”
She sucks in a breath. We have given her two terrible options. For a split second, I almost feel sorry for her. Then I remember what she did.
“What about the blood on Enzo’s knife?” she asks. “The police told me about that.”
“Enzo left his knife behind in your house.” Ramirez shrugs. “You used it to kill your husband, then tried to get rid of the evidence by returning it to him.”
Suzette drops her eyes, looking down at the palms of her hands. No matter what she decides, her entire life is about to change forever. “Can I think about it?” she asks in a small voice.
Ramirez looks at his watch. “You can think about it, but I’m telling you now that Detective Willard is on his way. He’ll be here any minute.”
She takes a ragged breath. “Would you mind leaving my room so I can get dressed?”
Ramirez agrees to leave the room—we’ve got to get out of here before Detective Willard catches us and discovers what we’ve been up to. As the door slams shut behind us, I stare daggers into the door to the hotel room. I never liked Suzette Lowell, but I had no idea about the depths of her depravity. I had no idea that she would cover up such horrible crimes just for the sake of her own reputation. When I look over at Ramirez, I can tell he’s thinking the same thing.
“Only for you and Enzo, Millie,” he says. “I’ll pull every string I’ve got to make this come together and get him off the hook.”
“So we’re even then,” I say.
“No, I think I still owe you a few more.”
I bring my ear close to the door to the hotel room, listening for sounds coming from within. “What if she tries to kill herself in there?”
“She won’t do that. She’s a fighter. You can just tell.”
“What do you think she’ll decide?”
He smiles sadly. “She’s going to confess to killing her husband—I’m sure of it. She doesn’t want that other charge. And she knows they have her.”
I hope he’s right. I need my husband back. And I need this nightmare to be over.
Although I have a feeling it’s not going to be over for a very long time.
SEVENTY-NINE
It’s been almost two weeks since Suzette Lowell confessed to the murder of her husband, Jonathan Lowell.
The four of us are having breakfast in our kitchen, something that didn’t seem like it would ever be possible again only two weeks earlier. But now Enzo is home again. After Suzette confessed, all the charges against him were dropped.
