Chương 7
“Until internal affairs finishes.”
“That could be months.”
“Yes.”
“Paid?”
“For now.”
Rourke put his glasses back on. “You need representation.”
“I have a lawyer.”
“Good.”
He stood but did not pick up the folder.
“How is your sister?”
“Angry.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“It’s the answer she would give.”
Rourke glanced toward the living room. “Maybe she should get to give it.”
After he left, Chloe muted the television.
“You could have told him I’m doing better.”
“You heard?”
“The walls are made of paper.”
“I didn’t want to discuss you with my boss.”
“You discuss dead strangers with your boss.”
“That’s different.”
“Because they can’t object?”
Mara sat across from her.
Chloe’s bruises had begun turning yellow along the edges. She wore an oversized Richmond police sweatshirt Mara had owned since the academy. The sleeves covered her hands.
“I’m not one of your cases,” Chloe said.
“I know.”
“You say that a lot.”
“I’m still trying to learn it.”
Chloe unmuted the television.
A week after the assault, Nate called.
“They found Leah,” he said.
Mara was in a grocery store comparing two brands of laundry detergent because Chloe’s skin had reacted to the one she used. She leaned against the cart.
“Where?”
“An old hunting lease above Green River. Mercer Renovations held it through an LLC when she disappeared.”
“I remember the tract.”
“No, you don’t. We never had the lease records.”
“I remember Jonah talking about hunting there.”
“When?”
“At Mom’s birthday dinner. The year before Leah vanished.”
Nate’s silence carried the old accusation: another detail she had not treated as evidence.
Mara closed her eyes.
“How did they get the warrant?”
“The locket. Chloe’s statement. Leah’s last cell sector. A former employee confirmed Jonah used the property. Cadaver dogs alerted near a collapsed root cellar.”
“Identification?”
“Dental records are preliminary. Tessa is coming in.”
“What condition?”
“You’re not on the case.”
“Nate.”
“You’re not on the case.”
She heard voices behind him and the slam of a vehicle door.
“Was she—”
“Don’t make me be the one who gives you details you aren’t entitled to.”
Mara tightened her grip on the cart.
“Fine.”
Nate’s voice changed. “She had the locket chain around one wrist. The pendant was gone.”
Mara said nothing.
“Whoever removed it broke the chain,” he continued. “The broken clasp matches what was found under your mother’s table.”
A woman reached around Mara for a bottle of fabric softener and murmured, “Excuse me.”
Mara moved the cart.
“Nate,” she said, “I am sorry.”
“For which part?”
“All of it.”
“That’s too large to be useful.”
The call ended.
Mara stood in the detergent aisle until Chloe texted from the apartment.
Get the unscented one. The green cap is lying.
Mara bought both.
Leah Bell’s remains were formally identified three days later.
The medical examiner determined that she had died from blunt-force trauma to the back of the head. Her wrists had been bound with a nylon strap. The state police recovered degraded fibers, fragments of plastic, and a brass buckle from the burial site. None of it alone identified Jonah.
The location mattered more. The root cellar stood two hundred yards from a cabin Jonah’s company had leased and maintained. Access required a key to a locked forestry gate. Old business records showed only three authorized key holders. Two had documented alibis outside the state on the night Leah disappeared.
Jonah did not.
Evelyn’s alibi had placed him at home.
When investigators returned to question her, she hired a separate attorney.
Jonah’s murder charge followed.
At the bond hearing, Peter Voss argued that the case had been manufactured by a police captain with a family grudge. He displayed a map showing that the Green River cell sector covered forty square miles. He described the locket as “an unverified trinket discovered by a compromised witness.” He pointed out that six years had passed, memories had changed, and Mara had concealed evidence of contact with Leah.
The judge denied bond anyway.
Voss held a press conference on the courthouse steps.
Mara watched from her couch until Chloe took the remote.
“He has good hair,” Chloe said.
“What?”
“The lawyer. It doesn’t move.”
“He’s accusing me of planting evidence.”
“He can do that with bad hair.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“No. His hair is.”
Chloe changed the channel to a home-renovation program. A couple argued cheerfully about kitchen tile.
Mara stood. “I’m going for a walk.”
“You hate walks.”
“I need air.”
“You need to stop reading comments.”
“I’m not reading comments.”
“You left your laptop open.”
Mara looked at the laptop.
Chloe tilted her head. “The woman who called you a power-hungry spinster has a profile picture of a cat in a wedding dress. You can’t let her win.”
Mara laughed despite herself.
At the door she paused. “Do you need anything?”
“Not for forty minutes.”
“That’s very specific.”
“I timed your last angry walk.”
Outside, late autumn had sharpened the air. Mara walked without a destination, past an elementary school and a row of small brick houses where people had begun placing pumpkins on their steps.
She had spent most of her adult life believing movement was the same as progress. Drive to the scene. Knock on the door. Find the witness. Make the arrest. Finish the report. Keep going until grief became paperwork.
Administrative leave removed the motion. It left her with mornings, dirty dishes, Chloe’s physical-therapy appointments, and the dull chime of email arriving from lawyers.
The internal-affairs investigators asked why she had hidden Leah’s voicemail.
Mara gave them every version of the answer.
She had been twenty-nine and newly promoted to detective. She had feared the appearance of bias. She had believed her mother. She had disliked Leah’s intensity. She had been embarrassed that someone outside the family thought Chloe needed saving. She had wanted Jonah to be unpleasant rather than dangerous.
All of those things were true.
May you like
None excused the deletion.
Chloe began outpatient therapy and insisted on attending interviews without Mara. A victim advocate named Lila Greene drove her when the weather was bad. Lila was in her thirties, wore purple glasses, and had a habit of speaking to Chloe before anyone else in the room.
