Chương 5
Nathan checked the desk.
No tablet.
The charger lay coiled beside a lamp.
He opened drawers.
Nothing.
Claire stood in the doorway.
“I looked after the police asked about devices.”
“And?”
“It wasn’t there.”
“Did you tell them?”
She shook her head.
Nathan stopped searching.
“Why not?”
“I was scared.”
“Of Ryan?”
“Of everything.”
Nathan looked at her.
“That’s becoming a very expensive word.”
She started crying then, though quietly, pressing the heel of one hand against her mouth.
Nathan felt nothing useful.
He walked past her.
Detective Vasquez returned his call at eight fifteen.
He told her everything Claire had admitted.
Vasquez listened without interruption.
When Nathan finished, she asked to speak to Claire directly.
Nathan handed over the phone and went outside.
He sat on the back steps with Bruno.
Crickets had started in the woods.
A neighbor’s lawn sprinkler clicked in slow arcs.
Sophie used to complain that the sprinkler hit the hydrangeas too hard. Nathan had once told her plants did not have feelings.
She had stared at him and said, “That sounds like something a plant bully would say.”
He bent forward until his elbows rested on his knees.
Bruno pressed against his leg.
Nathan put one hand on the dog’s neck.
Under the collar, the fur was flattened.
He imagined Sophie’s fingers there.
He did not let the thought finish.
The next morning Detective Vasquez arrived with a warrant officer and a digital-forensics technician.
Claire had spent the night in the guest room.
Nathan had spent most of it sitting in Sophie’s room.
He had slept for forty minutes on the floor with Bruno’s back against his shoulder.
Vasquez examined the mudroom, photographed the dent, measured the basement door, and asked Claire to walk through where each person had been standing.
Nathan stayed in the kitchen.
He could hear fragments.
“Here?”
“No, closer.”
“Which hand?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did Mr. Mercer touch Sophie?”
“I think so.”
“You told me last night you saw his arm extend.”
“I did.”
“Is it possible he was reaching for the tablet rather than pushing her?”
“Yes.”
“Is it possible he pushed her?”
Claire’s answer took longer.
“Yes.”
Nathan shut his eyes.
The technician inspected the smart lock.
“There’s an access log,” she said.
Nathan entered the mudroom.
“What log?”
“Your side-door keypad stores code use.”
Claire leaned against the wall.
The technician opened an app on Nathan’s phone with his permission.
Nathan had installed the lock two years earlier and forgotten half its functions.
A record appeared.
August 9.
9:07 p.m. — USER 4.
Nathan frowned.
“Who’s user four?”
Claire whispered, “Ryan.”
9:07 p.m.
A second entry appeared.
10:02 p.m. — LOCKED MANUALLY.
The 911 call had been placed at 9:31.
Nathan looked at Claire.
“So he was here when the ambulance arrived.”
She nodded.
“Where?”
“He went out the basement door before they came inside.”
Vasquez’s expression sharpened.
“He left an injured child before first responders arrived?”
Claire’s voice broke.
“Yes.”
Nathan turned away.
By noon, the story online had mutated again.
Someone had identified Ryan as chief operating officer of Cole Meridian Development. A local television reporter called the office. Another waited near the driveway.
Nathan’s company employed one hundred eighty-three people.
Most had nothing to do with Sophie, Ryan, Claire, or the lie in Nathan’s kitchen.
At one thirty, Marlene Chen, the company’s general counsel, called Nathan.
“We need to talk.”
“I don’t care about the company right now.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re right,” Marlene said. “I don’t. But Ryan has signing authority on three active projects and access to company accounts. He emailed the board this morning.”
Nathan sat straighter.
“What did he say?”
“That you’re emotionally unstable, there’s a private family dispute, and he’s concerned you may make allegations affecting the company.”
Nathan laughed.
It sounded ugly even to him.
“He got ahead of it.”
“Yes.”
“Of course he did.”
“Nathan, I need permission to suspend his system access pending review.”
“You need permission?”
“Technically, no. I’m asking because you’re chairman and because this is going to look personal.”
“It is personal.”
“That doesn’t mean we handle it personally.”
Nathan rubbed his forehead.
Marlene had worked for him for twelve years. She was one of the few people in his life who spoke to him as though his temper were an administrative inconvenience.
“Do it.”
“I’ll document the basis as risk management, not misconduct.”
“Fine.”
“And Nathan?”
“What?”
“Do not text him.”
Nathan looked at the phone in his hand.
He had already written three unsent messages.
“You reading my mind now?”
“No. I’ve represented you a long time.”
After the call, Nathan deleted the drafts.
At three, Ryan called.
Nathan let it go to voicemail.
Then Ryan called again.
And again.
The fourth time, Nathan answered.
“What?”
Ryan’s voice was calm.
“You suspended me.”
“Yes.”
“You know what that looks like.”
“I’m learning not to care.”
“You should.”
Nathan walked into the garage so Claire could not hear.
“What do you want?”
“To talk without police, lawyers, employees, or people filming us.”
“No.”
“Nathan.”
“No.”
Ryan exhaled slowly.
“I lied about being at the house.”
“Yes.”
“I panicked.”
“So did my wife.”
Silence.
Ryan said, “I did not push Sophie down those stairs.”
Nathan gripped the workbench.
“Then why did you leave?”
“Because I was having an affair with your wife and your daughter was unconscious on the basement floor. I knew exactly how that would look.”
“It looks worse now.”
“I know.”
“Where’s her tablet?”
Ryan did not answer.
Nathan’s grip tightened.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t have it.”
“You followed her for it.”
“I followed her because she was upset.”
“Claire says you wanted the tablet.”
“Claire is trying to make herself less responsible.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
There it was.
The first wedge.
Simple.
Effective.
Cruel because it might be true.
“Did you touch Sophie?”
“I grabbed Bruno.”
“Why?”
“He came at me.”
“Bruno doesn’t come at people.”
May you like
“He did that night.”
“Maybe he had a reason.”
