Page 66 of For Your Own Good
Frank finally gets it.
Missy and his son may not forgive him, and the police certainly won’t, but God will. God always forgives.
With a heart that feels a bit lighter, Frank leaves Touchpoint Ministry. He drives the thirty miles back, windows open, rock music blasting, and he doesn’t stop until he reaches the police station.
He sends a text to his wife as he gets out of his car.
I will love you and Frankie forever
He walks right into the station. No hesitation, no deep breath, no gathering of courage. Speaking the truth feels like the easiest thing he has ever done.
“I killed Ingrid Ross,” he says.
DETECTIVE OLIVER LOOKSlike a nice man. A little soft around the middle—obviously, he doesn’t work out enough—but he seems experienced. Maybe even wise. Frank just doesn’t understand why he’s still sitting in an interrogation room instead of in a jail cell.
“Tell me again how it happened,” Oliver says.
Frank sighs. He’s been through it three times already. It’s not like confessing to murder is an easy thing. “I saw Ingrid outside the school. When she brought in a load of boxes, I went over to her car and put a diuretic in her green tea. It’s MaxFit 2000.”
“And you just happened to have this in your car?”
“Well, yeah,” Frank says. “For my weigh-ins.”
Oliver nods and writes that down.
“Like I said, I didn’t mean to kill her. That was the day of the party, and she was an organizer, and I...” Frank’s voice trails off. It’s hard to admit this part once, let alone four times. “I wanted to embarrass her, I guess. So she’d be in the bathroom the whole time and would miss the party.”
“Why?”
Frank takes a deep breath and goes through it all over again. The drunken night. The staged picture. The blackmail for Courtney’s grade in AP Calculus. After saying it so many times, he’s beyond the point of humiliation. Almost.
“I didn’t even know I killed her,” Frank says. “Not until I googled diuretics and found out they cause heart failure. Obviously, it’s my fault, and that’s why I’m here. So you can arrest me now. I’m not going to fight it.”
Oliver listens, not moving, his glasses perched at the end of his nose. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”
He walks out, leaving Frank alone. He is absolutely positive Oliver will return with a couple of uniformed cops, who will place him under arrest.
Instead, the detective comes back by himself. The only thing he has brought with him is a file folder.
“Mr.Maxwell,” Oliver says.
“Frank.”
“Okay, Frank.” He sits down and opens the folder. “I understand what you’re saying. And I understand that you believe you inadvertently killed Ingrid Ross.”
“I did.”
Oliver doesn’t answer. He flips through the file and pulls out a single sheet of paper, waving it in the air in front of Frank.
“This is a report on Ingrid Ross’s cell phone,” he says. “There was no... revealing photo on her phone. Not of any kind.”
“Then she deleted it. Or moved it to the cloud or something.” Frank thinks for a minute and snaps his fingers. “She’s rich. She might have her own cloud.”
Oliver pulls out another piece of paper and holds it up. “I also have this.”
Frank squints to see it but has no idea what any of the words mean. He shrugs.
“This is a lab report with the contents of Ingrid Ross’s stomach when she died,” Oliver says. “She neverdrankthe green tea.”
