Chương 6
She did not trust him with her fear.
Both were true.
Celeste pulled the robe tighter around herself.
“What happens tomorrow?”
Nobody answered.
The question was too practical.
That was why it mattered.
Morning arrived without anyone sleeping much.
Evie woke in her childhood bedroom at 6:12 and did not know where she was.
The wallpaper had been removed years ago, but she could still see the pale rectangle on the wall where a poster had hung when she was seventeen. Celeste had redecorated the room in quiet neutral colors that made it resemble a very expensive place where nobody had ever been a teenager.
Evie reached for Grant.
Her hand touched an empty pillow.
Her body reacted before her mind did.
Panic.
Then relief.
Then shame at the relief.
Her phone was gone.
She remembered it sliding across the marble.
She sat up.
Every muscle hurt.
Downstairs, Daniel was arguing with someone on the phone.
Evie could not make out the words, only the tone.
She put on an old sweatshirt from the closet and found sweatpants in a drawer. The waistband elastic had nearly given up.
She went downstairs barefoot.
Daniel ended the call when he saw her.
“Who was that?”
“My lawyer.”
Evie opened the coffee cabinet.
“About Grant?”
“About me.”
She turned.
Daniel leaned against the counter.
“He filed a complaint.”
“For the table.”
“Yes.”
“Are you surprised?”
“No.”
“You look surprised.”
“I look irritated.”
“You look like a man who expected his reason to matter more than his action.”
He gave her a hard look.
Then his face softened.
“I suppose I do.”
Evie made coffee.
Her hands shook enough that she spilled grounds.
Daniel reached for a towel.
She said, “Don’t.”
He stopped.
Evie cleaned it herself.
This became their morning.
Tiny negotiations of control.
Can I pour that?
No.
Do you want me to call someone?
No.
Do you want breakfast?
Maybe.
Do you want your mother here?
Not yet.
At eight thirty, Hale arrived.
He looked tired.
He carried Evie’s phone in an evidence bag.
Her cracked screen reflected the kitchen lights.
“I can’t give this back yet.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll need permission to examine it.”
Grant knew her passcode.
That was her first thought.
She looked at Hale.
“He knows how to unlock it.”
“Your passcode?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know your cloud account password?”
“I changed it.”
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Why?”
Evie rubbed her thumb over the edge of her mug.
“Because he kept reading messages before I did.”
Daniel turned away.
Hale noticed.
“You want to sit down?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Evie looked at the evidence bag.
“There are recordings.”
Hale waited.
“Not many.”
“Of him?”
“Yes.”
“How did you make them?”
“Voice memos. Sometimes I would turn it on before I went into a room.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Hale asked, “Did he know?”
“No.”
“Anything else?”
“Pictures.”
“Of injuries?”
“Yes.”
“Sent to anyone?”
Evie shook her head.
“I emailed them to an account he doesn’t know about.”
Hale nodded.
“That matters.”
Daniel said, “So that proves it.”
Hale looked at him.
“No.”
Daniel frowned.
“Pictures of injuries and recordings of threats don’t prove abuse?”
“They are evidence. Evidence has context. It gets examined. Challenged. Corroborated. We don’t skip steps because you’re angry.”
Daniel’s nostrils flared.
Evie almost thanked Hale.
Instead she asked, “Is Grant still in jail?”
“For now.”
“For now?”
“There will be a hearing. Conditions. I’m not predicting what a judge does.”
“He’ll come to the house.”
“Which house?”
“Ours.”
“Do you plan to go back there?”
Evie stared into her coffee.
“I need my things.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
Hale nodded.
“We can arrange for you to collect property with deputies present if needed.”
Daniel said, “We can send people.”
Evie turned toward him.
He raised both hands.
“Sorry.”
Hale’s mouth twitched.
Then he became serious again.
“There’s another issue.”
Evie’s stomach tightened.
“The security system.”
Celeste entered the kitchen.
She had changed into black slacks and a cream blouse. Makeup covered most of the exhaustion beneath her eyes.
Daniel glanced at her.
Hale said, “Good. I need both of you.”
Celeste remained standing.
Hale placed a small notebook on the counter.
“The access history shows repeated exterior lock commands from the credential assigned to Grant.”
Evie felt a slow, cold pressure beneath her ribs.
“How many?”
“Eleven.”
Celeste sat.
Daniel said nothing.
Hale continued.
“Over four months.”
Evie looked at the window.
Four months.
She remembered nights.
Not all of them.
That bothered her.
She remembered one in June when she had tried to walk outside after an argument and the kitchen door would not open. Grant had told her the security system was malfunctioning.
Another in July.
The French doors in their own house had remained locked even after she entered her code. Grant had laughed and said Daniel’s expensive technology was garbage.
Another night she had tried the garage.
The overhead door worked, but the side access door did not. Grant had taken her keys.
She had never connected the incidents.
Or maybe she had.
Maybe connecting them would have required naming what they meant.
Hale watched her face.
“You recognize some of those nights.”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember dates?”
“No.”
“That’s okay.”
Evie immediately said, “I should.”
“No. You should tell me what you actually remember.”
She looked at him.
Hale tapped his notebook.
“Guessing helps nobody.”
Celeste asked, “Can you see who changed the permissions?”
Daniel looked at her.
Hale said, “The administrative change came from your account.”
Celeste swallowed.
“Yes.”
Daniel stood.
“Dan,” Hale warned.
“I’m getting water.”
Daniel got water.
He drank half the glass without looking at his wife.
Hale continued.
“Celeste, I need a statement from you about why you modified the credential.”
“I told you.”
“I need it formally.”
She nodded.
“And whether Grant ever asked you to remove or change records.”
Celeste went still.
Evie saw it.
Daniel saw it.
Hale said nothing.
May you like
Celeste pressed one hand flat against the counter.
“He called me yesterday morning.”
