Chương 7
She turned off the radio.
At Nora’s building, the deadbolt still looked as if somebody had driven a screwdriver into the metal plate.
Her sister photographed it before touching anything.
Nora watched.
“You watch too much true crime.”
“I watch the exact correct amount.”
A locksmith arrived a little after nine.
He replaced the damaged hardware while Nora fed the baby again at the kitchen table.
Her sister ordered Thai food and forgot to request utensils.
They ate noodles with two mismatched forks and a plastic serving spoon.
At ten-thirty, Nora’s phone buzzed.
Ethan.
She ignored it.
At ten-forty-two, it buzzed again.
A text.
I’m not coming over. I won’t unless you ask. Dane sent the records. Lydia’s surveillance began February 18. I’m sending everything to an outside attorney and preserving the files. There are things in here I need to tell you, including things that make me look bad. I’ll wait until you want to hear them.
Nora read it twice.
Her sister watched from the couch.
“Bad?”
“Complicated.”
“That family’s favorite word.”
“You’ve met them once.”
“It was a memorable brunch.”
Nora almost smiled.
Her sister held out her hand.
“Give me the baby.”
“He just ate.”
“That’s not what I said.”
Nora surrendered him.
Her sister settled him against her chest and began walking slow circles around the living room.
Nora watched from the table.
“You’re good at that.”
“I watched a YouTube video.”
“Of course you did.”
“I also read the instruction manual for the carrier.”
“You read manuals?”
“When you attach a human to another human, yes.”
Nora looked at the gray carrier hanging over the back of the chair.
One strap had a faint stretched mark where Lydia had grabbed it.
Her stomach turned.
She stood and carried it into the bedroom.
She put it in the closet.
Then she took it out again.
There was nothing wrong with the carrier.
She knew that.
Still, she sat on the edge of the bed and examined every buckle.
Every seam.
Every strap.
Her sister appeared in the doorway holding the sleeping baby.
“You want me to buy another one?”
“No.”
“We can.”
“No.”
Nora ran her thumb over the stretched fabric.
“I’m not letting her ruin a perfectly good ninety-dollar carrier.”
Her sister smiled.
“That’s the most emotionally healthy thing you’ve said all week.”
Nora looked at her.
“Get out.”
The police report took most of Saturday morning.
There was no dramatic arrest.
No flashing lights.
Nora described the hospital garage incident and the hallway incident. She showed photographs her sister had taken of the bruises after the first confrontation, the letter from Mercer Family Holdings, and the text Ethan had forwarded regarding surveillance.
The officer listened, asked questions twice when Nora skipped details, and explained that someone would contact Lydia separately.
Nora disliked how ordinary it felt.
She also found the ordinariness reassuring.
The world did not stop because Lydia Mercer had lost control of herself.
Forms still needed dates.
Addresses had to be spelled.
Nora had to remember whether the garage confrontation happened before or after four in the afternoon.
The baby spit up on her shirt halfway through.
Her sister handed her a burp cloth.
The officer looked politely at the opposite wall.
Life continued.
At home, Nora slept for two hours.
When she woke, Ethan was sitting on the front steps of her building.
She saw him through the window.
He had not called.
He had not knocked.
He sat with his elbows on his knees and a paper coffee cup between his hands.
Nora stared at him for almost a minute.
Then she opened the window.
“You look ridiculous.”
He glanced up.
Relief crossed his face and disappeared.
“I feel ridiculous.”
“Good.”
“Can I come up?”
“No.”
He nodded.
She closed the window.
Five minutes later, she went downstairs.
She left the baby with her sister.
Ethan stood when Nora came through the front door.
She pointed at the bench beside the building’s mailboxes.
“Sit.”
He sat.
Nora sat three feet away.
A tenant came in carrying grocery bags, glanced at them, and kept walking.
Ethan looked tired.
Nora had never seen him with stubble before.
It made him appear younger and less trustworthy.
“What did Dane send?”
“Six months of invoices. Messages. Two reports.”
“Two?”
“One from February. One from this week.”
“About me.”
“Yes.”
“What’s in the February report?”
Ethan looked at the floor.
“Your work schedule. Your car registration. Public records connected to your address. Your sister’s name. Places you went for six days.”
Nora stared.
“Six days?”
“Yes.”
“Before I even knew I was pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“Because you told Lydia to find out if there was something you needed to know.”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
“You knew she did it?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
“No.”
“That matters.”
“I know.”
Nora did not correct him this time.
“What did you think she’d do?”
“Call you.”
“Why would she call me?”
“Because she had your number.”
“How?”
His silence answered.
Nora laughed softly.
“Of course she did.”
“She had access to contact information in my personal calendar.”
“You let her.”
“Yes.”
“Keep going.”
He rubbed the cardboard cup between his palms.
“The second report started the day you went into labor.”
Nora’s chest tightened.
“Why?”
“Lydia told Dane there had been threats against my family.”
“Were there?”
“No.”
“She lied to your security contractor.”
“Yes.”
“Did he verify?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she used an authorization code from my office.”
Nora looked at him.
“She had standing authority.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“Emergency family matters.”
“And nobody thought following the mother of your child qualified as something they should mention to you?”
His face hardened.
“They should have.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I built a system where people were rewarded for solving problems before they reached me. Lydia understood that better than anyone.”
Nora leaned against the wall.
“So you made yourself easy to protect.”
“Yes.”
“And easy to lie to.”
“Yes.”
May you like
“That’s convenient.”
His eyes dropped.
