Chương 6
“Yes.”
Joan’s breath broke.
“I’m coming.”
“Mom, don’t.”
“You sound like you’re twelve.”
“I’m surrounded by police.”
“That is not a reason for me to stay home.”
“It is absolutely a reason.”
“I’m coming.”
The call ended.
Elena set the phone down and began to laugh. The sound frightened her. It had no humor in it, only exhaustion and the absurd certainty that Joan Ward would argue her way through armed security because her daughter sounded twelve.
The detective offered her a box of tissues.
“I’m not crying.”
“I know.”
She took one anyway.
By noon, news vans had gathered outside the hospital.
No official statement had identified Elena, but a photograph of her employment badge appeared online. The image had been taken from the domestic staffing agency’s website. Beneath it, strangers argued over whether she was a hero, a disturbed grieving mother, or Lorenzo Rossi’s secret lover.
The last theory made her feel physically ill.
A reporter called her phone. Then another. Someone left a voice message asking whether she had planned to “replace” her dead child with the mafia boss’s baby.
Camille Price arranged for a social worker to move Elena to a private consultation room.
“You should turn off your phone,” Camille said.
“My mother is coming.”
“Then keep it on for her and ignore everyone else.”
Elena held the device as if it were dirty. “How did they get my file?”
“Staffing agencies keep profiles online.”
“My daughter’s death wasn’t online.”
Camille paused. “Was it disclosed to the agency?”
“Yes. They asked why I had left my last job.”
“Who knew you were still lactating?”
Heat rose into Elena’s face. “The agency nurse. It was part of a return-to-work assessment.”
Camille wrote something down.
“What?”
“Nothing yet.”
“That isn’t true.”
“No. It means I don’t have enough to tell you.”
Elena looked at the wall clock. Its second hand moved with an irritating little jump.
“Am I allowed to leave?”
“Detectives may have more questions.”
“That’s not the same as being required to stay.”
Camille met her eyes. “No, it isn’t.”
Elena stood.
Her legs nearly failed.
Camille caught her elbow.
“I’m fine.”
“You haven’t eaten.”
“I fed someone. That should count for something.”
The investigator released her carefully. “It does not.”
Joan arrived carrying Elena’s winter coat, a ham sandwich wrapped in foil, and enough indignation for the entire hospital. She was fifty-four, short, broad-shouldered, and still wearing the green apron from the garden center where she worked.
She looked Elena over before touching her.
Then she pulled her into a hug.
Elena held herself stiff for three seconds and collapsed against her.
Joan smelled like pine mulch and hand cream.
“You always choose the easy jobs,” she murmured into Elena’s hair.
Elena laughed once, then cried so quietly that Joan did not mention it.
They sat in the consultation room while Elena ate half the sandwich. The bread stuck to the roof of her mouth. Joan peeled an orange with her thumbnail and placed the sections on a paper towel between them.
“Come home,” she said.
“I have an apartment.”
“You have an apartment where you sit in the dark.”
“I use lamps.”
“You know what I mean.”
Elena folded the sandwich foil into a smaller square.
“I can’t go back to the mansion.”
“Good.”
“My things are there.”
“We’ll buy you things.”
“I don’t need you to buy me things.”
“Then wear my clothes and look terrible.”
Elena picked at the foil seam.
Her mother ate an orange section. “Did the baby live?”
“So far.”
“Did you help?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know.”
“The doctor wouldn’t say it like that.”
“Doctors never say anything like that. They bill in complete sentences and speak in fog.”
Despite herself, Elena smiled.
Joan noticed and pretended not to.
Late that afternoon, Sofia Rossi entered the room without knocking. She had removed her suit jacket and rolled her sleeves to the elbow.
“Ms. Ward.”
“Elena.”
“Sofia.”
Joan looked at her. “The lawyer sister.”
Sofia blinked. “Yes.”
“Are you here as a lawyer or a sister?”
“At the moment, I’m not sure.”
“That usually means lawyer.”
Sofia pulled out a chair. “My brother has been released pending further investigation. The police accepted that he fired because someone was attempting to ignite oil outside a locked nursery.”
“Congratulations,” Joan said.
“It is not an achievement.”
“No. Pointing guns at women holding babies usually isn’t.”
Sofia’s face tightened. “I’m aware of what he did.”
Elena said, “Why are you here?”
Sofia placed a business card on the table.
“You need independent counsel.”
“I haven’t been charged.”
“You have been publicly identified, questioned in connection with an unconscious nurse and an injured infant, and photographed entering a hospital controlled by police. You need counsel.”
“Are you offering to represent me?”
“No. That would be a conflict. I can refer you to someone who has no connection to my family.”
Joan picked up the card. “And who pays?”
“My brother offered.”
“No,” Elena said.
Sofia looked at her. “It would not buy your silence.”
“It would look like it did.”
“Most legal bills do not appear in newspapers.”
“Mine might.”
Sofia gave a reluctant nod. “That is fair.”
Elena studied her. “Did Lorenzo send you?”
“He told me to make sure you were protected.”
“From whom?”
“He didn’t specify.”
“That is not comforting.”
“No,” Sofia said. “It rarely is.”
She stood, then stopped at the door.
“Leo is awake.”
Elena’s fingers tightened around the foil square.
“He took a small amount from a bottle prepared by the hospital,” Sofia continued. “He kept it down.”
Joan reached for Elena’s hand.
“Thank you,” Elena said.
Sofia looked at her for a moment. “My brother heard him swallow before he lowered the gun.”
Elena did not answer.
“He told me,” Sofia said. “He has not said much else.”
After she left, Joan leaned back in her chair.
“Do not confuse gratitude with goodness.”
May you like
“I’m not.”
“Men with money are very good at making the first look like the second.”
