Chương 6
Teresa looked down at her nephew.
“You should be.”
Rachel’s phone began vibrating.
Then Hsu’s.
Then Nathan’s.
All three devices lit within seconds.
Nathan checked his screen first.
Rachel saw twelve unread messages become seventeen.
Martin Feld had texted her.
You have a problem.
Another donor had sent:
This is already moving around.
Rachel opened a news alert.
No article yet.
But social media had begun.
One of the guests had apparently called someone from the elevator. The first post was vague: bizarre confrontation at private Cross gala, child opens supposedly secure vault, claim involving dead former employee.
A second post was less vague.
Nathan read over Rachel’s shoulder.
“Who said Mara was an employee?”
“Everyone knew her name nine years ago.”
“Not everyone.”
“Enough.”
His phone rang.
He rejected the call.
It rang again.
Different person.
Rejected.
Teresa watched him.
“This is the part where you make it disappear?”
Nathan looked at her.
“No.”
“You hesitated.”
“I was deciding whether lying would sound better.”
Rachel nearly smiled.
Teresa did not.
Nathan placed the phone face down.
“I can’t make fourteen people forget what happened.”
“You used to think you could.”
“I used to think a lot of things.”
Eli stirred.
His eyes opened slowly.
For several seconds he looked confused by the library.
Then he saw Nathan.
Memory returned.
“Did you find it?”
Rachel nodded.
“Yes.”
“Can I see?”
“Not tonight.”
He sat upright.
“Why?”
“Because we need lawyers.”
He frowned.
“Mom hated lawyers.”
Nathan gave a small laugh.
“So did I at nine.”
Eli looked at him.
“You had lawyers when you were nine?”
“My father did.”
“Oh.”
He considered this.
“That sounds worse.”
Nathan’s laugh came out before he could stop it.
Teresa looked at him, surprised.
Then Eli asked, “Are you going to do the test?”
The room tightened again.
Nathan understood.
“The DNA test?”
“Yes.”
Teresa said, “Eli.”
“What?”
“We can talk about that tomorrow.”
“He’s right here.”
Nathan looked at the boy.
“Do you want me to?”
Eli’s forehead creased.
“That’s why I asked.”
“No. I mean—”
Nathan stopped.
He was trying to speak to a child as though the child were a board member, and Eli was not going to help him.
Nathan started again.
“Yes.”
Eli nodded once.
“When?”
“As soon as we can arrange it.”
“Okay.”
Nathan stared at him.
“That’s all?”
“What else?”
“I don’t know.”
Eli pulled his shoe fully back onto his heel.
“My mom said not to believe you just because you’re rich.”
Teresa closed her eyes.
Nathan nodded.
“She was right.”
“She also said not to hate you just because she did sometimes.”
Nathan inhaled slowly.
Rachel looked down at her tablet.
Some things felt indecent to witness.
Teresa stood.
“We’re leaving.”
Nathan rose too.
“Where are you staying?”
She looked at him.
“No.”
“I wasn’t asking so I could interfere.”
“No.”
“I can arrange security.”
“No.”
“Teresa, people know his name may be connected to mine now.”
She stopped.
That changed the calculation.
Rachel could see it.
Nathan continued.
“If this goes public tonight, reporters may identify him. Someone may follow you. Let Hsu arrange a car and security at your hotel.”
“We’re not at a hotel.”
“Wherever you are.”
Teresa looked at Rachel.
“Would you trust his security?”
Rachel considered the question seriously.
“Hsu, yes.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
Teresa appreciated the answer.
“So what do you suggest?”
Rachel thought.
“Your attorney can arrange independent security tonight. We’ll pay the invoice without requiring the address.”
Nathan looked at her.
“That’s unnecessarily complicated.”
“That’s why it’s credible.”
Teresa nodded.
“That works.”
Nathan looked irritated.
Good, Rachel thought.
Somewhere in the building, a staff member rolled a cart across stone.
Eli slipped his hand into Teresa’s.
Nathan watched.
“Can I ask one thing before you go?”
Teresa’s expression said he had already used up his allotment.
Eli said, “What?”
Nathan looked at the dog tag.
“Did she wear that?”
“Every day.”
Nathan swallowed.
“Yeah.”
Eli waited.
Nathan seemed unable to say anything else.
They left.
Nathan remained in the library long after the door closed.
Rachel stood near the shelves and answered messages.
Board chair. General counsel. Communications director. Two trustees of the Cross Foundation. Nathan’s younger sister, whom Rachel had never heard sound panicked before.
At 12:17 a.m., the first article appeared.
At 12:24, a second outlet named Mara Carter.
At 12:31, an old photograph resurfaced online.
Mara stood beside Nathan at a Cross Meridian opening ceremony ten years earlier. She wore a dark suit and no jewelry. Nathan looked younger, thinner, less armored. They were not touching, but both were laughing at something outside the frame.
Rachel stared at the image.
Nathan walked behind her.
He stopped.
“That was Philadelphia.”
“You remember.”
“She hated that building.”
“Why?”
“The lobby doors opened into the wind. She told the architect it was stupid. He spent twenty minutes explaining the airflow calculations.”
“What did she say?”
Nathan looked at the photograph.
“‘Still stupid.’”
Rachel smiled despite herself.
Then she turned the phone over.
“Nathan.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
He looked at her.
“The board is calling an emergency meeting at eight.”
“I expected that.”
“The Foundation wants you to step away from tomorrow’s hospital event.”
“Fine.”
“Communications wants a statement before markets open.”
“No.”
Rachel sighed.
“You can’t say nothing.”
“I can for six hours.”
“Six hours is an eternity now.”
“I am not issuing a statement about the mother of a child who may be my son before I know what happened.”
Rachel studied him.
It was the first sensible decision he had made all evening.
“All right.”
Nathan looked toward the library window.
Manhattan shone below them, indifferent.
“Did I know?”
Rachel did not pretend to misunderstand.
“About Eli?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.”
“My father knew.”
“According to Mara.”
“She didn’t lie about things like that.”
Rachel watched him.
“You called her a liar in front of a room full of people.”
“I know.”
May you like
“Why?”
Nathan sat on the edge of the desk.
