Chương 10
Nathan’s mouth tightened.
For one ugly second they were children again, each furious that the other had received some invisible larger portion of their mother.
Then Nathan looked away.
“Fine.”
He lifted the box.
“I’m still coming.”
They drove separately because Claire refused to leave her car overnight, an argument so ordinary it briefly made Nathan laugh.
“You’re worried about street cleaning right now?”
“I’m worried about getting a ticket tomorrow.”
“Mom may have switched babies.”
“And the city will still tow me.”
He stopped laughing almost immediately, but the sound had done something useful.
It reminded Claire that terror did not suspend parking regulations, school mornings, hungry children, or the dozen stupid obligations waiting patiently for disaster to finish.
She called Daniel from the car.
He answered before the first ring seemed complete.
“Lucy?”
“Upstairs brushing her teeth.”
“Alone?”
“Claire.”
“Just answer me.”
“Yes.”
“Doors?”
“Locked.”
“Back door?”
“Locked.”
“Garage?”
“Locked.”
“Alarm?”
“On.”
She merged into traffic.
“Did you see what car the woman left in?”
“No.”
“Did you photograph her?”
“I was more interested in keeping the door between us.”
“Doorbell camera.”
A pause.
“Right.”
“You forgot?”
“Yes, I forgot we own technology.”
His irritation steadied her.
“Save the footage.”
“I’m doing it now.”
“Send me a still of her face.”
“You’re driving.”
“I won’t look.”
“That sentence has never stopped you before.”
“Daniel.”
“I’ll send it to Nathan.”
Claire glanced at the phone mounted on the dashboard.
“You two are suddenly a team?”
“No, but he’s apparently the designated adult who isn’t operating a vehicle.”
She almost told him Nathan had known about Evelyn’s storage unit for hours without calling her.
Instead she said, “We’re ten minutes away.”
“We?”
“Nathan.”
Daniel exhaled.
“Of course.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I should have bought more bourbon.”
The line went dead.
When Claire pulled into her driveway, every downstairs light was on.
Nathan parked behind her and got out carrying the banker’s box against his chest.
Daniel opened the door before they reached the porch.
“Inside.”
Claire stepped past him.
“Where’s the key?”
“Hello to you too.”
“Daniel.”
He pointed toward the kitchen.
The silver key lay inside a sandwich bag beside the fruit bowl.
Someone had written A-214 on a narrow metal tag attached to it.
Nathan stopped behind Claire.
“That looks like a locker key.”
“Mom said the key was with Margaret,” Claire said.
Daniel folded his arms.
“And a woman who may or may not be Margaret left it on our porch.”
“She wasn’t Margaret.”
Claire turned.
“How do you know?”
Daniel took out his phone and opened the doorbell recording.
The image showed the woman standing beneath the porch light, her face turned slightly upward toward the camera.
Gray-blond hair.
Narrow jaw.
Deep lines around her mouth.
Claire took the recent photograph from her purse and placed it beside the screen.
Nathan said nothing.
He did not need to.
Daniel looked from the photograph to Claire.
“That’s her.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Marianne Vale.”
“The missing woman?”
“The supposedly missing woman.”
Daniel stared at the screen again.
“You have a recent picture of her?”
“My mother did.”
“Of course she did.”
There was no sarcasm in it this time.
Only exhaustion.
Claire replayed the footage with sound.
Marianne’s voice was faint but clear.
“I need to speak to Claire.”
Daniel’s recorded voice came through the door.
“She isn’t here.”
“Is Lucy?”
“No.”
A pause followed.
Then Marianne looked directly toward the camera.
“Give Claire this.”
She bent, placed the key on the porch, and straightened.
“Tell her Evelyn lied about which baby came home from the hospital.”
Recorded Daniel asked, “Who are you?”
Marianne stepped backward.
“She’ll know soon enough.”
The recording ended.
Nathan muttered, “People only say things like that when they’ve had thirty years to practice them.”
Claire replayed the final five seconds.
Daniel touched her wrist.
“Enough.”
She pulled away before she meant to.
His hand dropped.
The movement was small, but Nathan saw it.
Claire hated him for seeing it.
“Where’s Lucy?”
“Upstairs.”
“I want to check on her.”
“Claire.”
She was already moving.
Lucy’s bedroom door stood half open.
Clementine, their elderly orange cat, occupied the center of the bed with the solemn entitlement of an animal who had recently been forgiven for vomiting inside a shoe.
Lucy sat cross-legged beside her in pajamas, untangling a necklace.
“You’re home.”
Claire crossed the room and hugged her.
Lucy tolerated it for several seconds before leaning backward.
“Did somebody die?”
“No.”
“You’re doing the funeral hug.”
Claire released her.
“What’s a funeral hug?”
“The one where adults squeeze your organs.”
“I missed you.”
“You saw me after school.”
“Apparently I’m needy.”
Lucy considered this and returned to the necklace.
“Dad said some weird lady came over.”
Claire sat on the edge of the bed.
“What did you see?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you look out the window?”
“No.”
“Did she say anything you heard?”
“Mom.”
“What?”
“You’re doing the police voice.”
“I don’t have a police voice.”
“You totally have a police voice.”
Clementine yawned.
Claire rubbed the cat between the ears because her hands needed somewhere to go.
“Stay upstairs for a little while.”
“Why?”
“Because the adults are dealing with something boring.”
“Boring things don’t make Dad turn on every light.”
Claire looked at her daughter.
Lucy had Daniel’s ability to make suspicion sound casual.
“We’ll explain when we understand it.”
“That means you don’t understand it.”
“Correct.”
Lucy nodded, apparently satisfied by the admission.
As Claire reached the door, Lucy said, “Mom?”
She turned.
“Grandma Evelyn once asked me if I liked my name.”
Claire stopped.
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
Lucy rolled her eyes.
“Last year maybe.”
“What exactly did she say?”
“She asked if I liked being Lucy.”
Claire came back into the room.
“And what did you say?”
“I said it was better than Mildred.”
“Why Mildred?”
“Because Mildred sounds like someone who owns wet tissues.”
Despite everything, Claire laughed.
May you like
Lucy smiled, pleased with herself.
“What did Grandma say after that?”
