Chapter 10 - CARTER WANTED A DEAL
Four months after his arrest, Carter requested a meeting.
My attorney advised against it.
My therapist asked what I hoped to gain.
I didn’t know.
That should have been the answer.
Still, I went.
We sat across from each other in a secure conference room.
No touching.
No dramatic glass partition.
Just a table.
Carter looked older.
Smaller.
For seven years, I thought his confidence filled rooms.
Apparently expensive suits had been doing some of the work.
“Chloe.”
I said nothing.
“I’m sorry.”
Still nothing.
“I was angry.”
I almost laughed.
“At what?”
“At everything.”
“Specific.”
His jaw tightened.
“You never needed me.”
There it was.
Not:
I didn’t love you.
Not:
Vanessa manipulated me.
Something more honest.
“I thought I did.”
“No.”
His eyes filled.
“That house. Your trust. Your father’s people. Henderson. You always had a whole life I wasn’t part of.”
“You never asked.”
“You hid it.”
“Yes.”
“I felt humiliated.”
“So you poisoned me.”
He looked down.
“No.”
“No?”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
“I’m interested in what you mean.”
He struggled.
Then finally:
“Vanessa kept saying if you died, everything would simplify.”
I leaned back.
“And you believed murder was simplification.”
He covered his face.
“I don’t know who I became.”
I did.
“The person who made repeated choices.”
He looked at me.
“Do you hate me?”
I thought about the forest.
The soup.
Seven years.
“No.”
He seemed surprised.
“I don’t want to spend that much energy on you.”
That hurt him.
Good.
Then I caught myself.
No.
Not good.
Necessary, perhaps.
But I didn’t want pain to become my reward system.
Carter continued.
“If I cooperate, prosecutors are discussing a plea.”
“That’s between you and them.”
“Vanessa is blaming me.”
“You both participated.”
“My mother—”
“Stop.”
He fell silent.
“For seven years, I helped you avoid responsibility for small things.”
His face changed.
“I defended you.”
Fixed mistakes.
Smoothed over family fights.
Let you take credit.
Made excuses.
“I’m not doing it for murder.”
He cried then.
I felt almost nothing.
When I stood to leave, Carter whispered:
“Was any of it real?”
I stopped.
“My love was.”
He looked up.
“That’s what makes what you did so ugly.”
Then I left.
I never met with him privately again.
Months later, he accepted a plea agreement covering attempted murder, conspiracy and financial offenses.
Vanessa held out longer.
Which turned out to be a mistake.
May you like
Because Vanessa had kept a private folder Carter didn’t know existed.
And investigators had just found it.
