Chương 6
“I summarized.”
“No, you added something.”
Lydia’s fingers tightened around the strap of her purse.
“The person who contacted the reporter mentioned a child.”
“It’s not here.”
“There was another email.”
“Where?”
“I don’t have it printed.”
Ethan held out his hand.
“Phone.”
“No.”
“Show us the email.”
“It came to the foundation address.”
“Then forward it.”
“I don’t have access on my phone.”
Ethan stared at her.
Nora felt that old quietness return.
The kind that came when a room had not yet decided whether it contained a lie.
Lydia looked furious.
And frightened.
She said, “You both think I’m making this up.”
Nora answered carefully.
“I think you’ve lied several times in the last fifteen minutes.”
“I have not.”
“You lied about knowing about my lock.”
“That was not a lie.”
“You said you heard from Michael. Then you admitted you told Michael to watch me.”
“To protect you.”
“You told Ethan you were in Richmond Tuesday.”
“I was.”
“All day?”
Lydia’s mouth tightened.
Ethan said, “Send the email.”
“I’ll do it when I get home.”
“No.”
“You don’t control me.”
“No. But I control access to company systems. If you’re telling me a company issue exists, I’m asking for the record now.”
Lydia looked at him.
Then Nora.
She took out her phone.
Her thumb moved.
A moment later Ethan’s phone vibrated.
He read.
His face changed slowly.
Nora held out her hand.
He gave her the phone.
The second message was not from a reporter.
It was from Lydia to Michael Dane.
Keep visual confirmation only. No contact. I need to know whether Bennett returns to the Arlington address with the infant. If she relocates, send the new address immediately.
Nora read it twice.
Lydia swore under her breath.
Ethan said nothing.
“I forwarded the wrong email.”
Nora looked at her.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Then send the right one.”
Lydia’s eyes were wet now.
Not crying.
Not yet.
She looked at her brother with something close to hatred.
“You always do this.”
Ethan’s voice was flat.
“Do what?”
“Stand there and make me the worst person in the room so you don’t have to look at yourself.”
Nora expected Ethan to answer.
He did not.
Lydia turned to Nora.
“He asked me to take care of this.”
Nora’s heartbeat changed.
Ethan said, “No.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I told you to stay out of it.”
“In April.”
Nora looked between them.
Lydia continued.
“In February, when you first thought she might be pregnant, you told me you needed to know whether she was serious.”
Ethan stared at her.
Nora felt cold.
“What does that mean?”
Ethan said, “I didn’t know you were pregnant in February.”
“No,” Lydia said. “You suspected.”
Nora remembered February.
The pharmacy receipt on Ethan’s kitchen counter.
The late period.
The morning she threw up while brushing her teeth and blamed bad sushi.
She had not taken the test until March third.
“You told her?”
Ethan shook his head.
“I told Lydia you’d been distant and I was worried you were leaving.”
Lydia laughed.
“That is not what you said.”
“What did I say?”
“You said, ‘Find out if there’s something I need to know.’”
Nora looked at him.
Ethan went pale.
He remembered.
That was obvious.
“You asked her to investigate me.”
“No.”
“You just remembered doing it.”
“I asked her if she knew why you were avoiding me.”
“By saying find out if there’s something I need to know.”
“Yes.”
“To Lydia.”
“Yes.”
Nora handed him the phone.
The baby stirred in her arms.
Her body suddenly felt too hot.
She wanted air.
She wanted her own apartment with its bent lock and ugly kitchen tile and the upstairs neighbor who dropped something heavy every night at eleven.
She wanted the cheap lamp by her bed.
She wanted to be somewhere the furniture did not have family history attached to it.
“I’m leaving.”
Ethan did not stop her.
This time he understood.
He picked up her overnight bag.
Nora looked at it.
He set it back down.
“Sorry.”
She took it herself.
At the front door, Lydia said, “Nora.”
Nora kept walking.
“I did not break your lock.”
Nora stopped.
She turned.
Lydia’s face was pale.
“I didn’t.”
Nora believed her.
That was the awful part.
She did not know why.
Maybe because Lydia was too proud to deny only one thing when she had denied everything else.
Maybe because fear looked different from guilt.
Maybe because Nora was tired enough to trust instinct.
She said, “Then help me figure out who did.”
Lydia blinked.
Ethan looked at Nora.
Nora opened the door.
Her sister’s battered blue Subaru was turning into the driveway.
“I’m still filing a police report about the garage,” Nora said.
Lydia’s lips compressed.
“And today.”
A long pause.
Then Lydia nodded.
Once.
Nora walked outside.
The evening air was warm and smelled faintly of cut grass.
Behind her, the enormous front door remained open.
No one followed.
For the first time all day, Nora appreciated that.
Her sister did not ask questions until they were three blocks away.
Then she looked over from behind the steering wheel.
“You want to tell me why Ethan’s sister was standing in the doorway looking like somebody repossessed her personality?”
Nora leaned her head against the seat.
“No.”
“Great.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They drove another mile.
“Did she touch the baby?”
“No.”
“Did she touch you?”
Nora closed her eyes.
Her sister’s hands tightened on the wheel.
“That’s a yes.”
“Just drive.”
“I am driving.”
“You’re also doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The older-sister murder silence.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve been planning a felony since the traffic light.”
Her sister stared straight ahead.
“Two felonies.”
Despite herself, Nora laughed.
It hurt her shoulder.
That made her laugh harder.
Then, without warning, she began to cry.
Not loudly.
No gasping, no collapse.
May you like
Tears simply ran down the sides of her face while she stared at the highway.
Her sister said nothing.
