Chương 4
The estate sent a car.
Vivian refused it.
They took a rideshare to Vivian’s townhouse in Evanston. The driver recognized them from the wedding clothes but had the decency not to ask. Lake Shore Drive was nearly empty. Anna leaned against the window with her eyes closed while the city passed in bands of sodium light.
At a stoplight, Vivian noticed that one of her diamond earrings was missing.
She almost laughed.
It seemed obscene that the night had room for something so ordinary.
At home, she put Anna in the guest room that had once been her childhood bedroom. The walls were now pale gray, but the closet still held a box of school notebooks and a broken desk lamp Vivian had never thrown away. Anna changed into an old Northwestern sweatshirt and slept in two-hour intervals while Vivian set alarms to wake her and check her pupils.
At five thirty, Vivian stood in the kitchen and washed blood from the black shawl by hand.
The water turned pink, then clear.
Her phone buzzed on the counter.
A video had been posted online.
It was not the security recording. A wedding guest had filmed the beginning of Graham and Celia’s first dance, then kept recording when raised voices drew attention toward the guestbook table. The angle was poor. A floral arrangement blocked Anna’s upper body at the exact moment of impact. Graham’s arm came down. Anna disappeared. Guests gasped.
The caption read: SOMETHING HAPPENED AT THE VALE WEDDING.
Within twenty minutes, strangers had slowed the clip, enlarged it, and argued over shadows. Some insisted Graham had struck her. Others said Anna had lunged. One account identified her as “a former disgruntled employee.” Another called her an ex-girlfriend. Someone posted the address of her apartment building.
Vivian gripped the edge of the sink.
She took screenshots and sent them to Deputy Ramos.
When Anna came into the kitchen shortly after seven, moving carefully and holding the wall, Vivian locked the phone.
“What?”
“Nothing you need to see yet.”
Anna stopped.
Vivian recognized the mistake before her daughter spoke.
“Give me the phone.”
“You should sit down.”
“Mom.”
Vivian handed it over.
Anna read in silence. Her face lost color. She reached the post containing her address and enlarged the image as though she might discover it belonged to someone else.
“I need to go home.”
“No.”
“My laptop is there.”
“I’ll get it.”
“My passport, my work files, everything.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“I didn’t say I was.”
Vivian began listing practical options. A hotel. A locksmith. Police escort. Staying with Frances. Each suggestion made Anna’s breathing shallower.
“Please stop.”
Vivian stopped.
Anna sat at the kitchen table. Morning light fell across the stitches near her temple. Without makeup, she looked younger than twenty-five and older than Vivian had ever seen her.
“I need coffee,” Anna said.
“You’re supposed to limit caffeine.”
“One cup.”
Vivian made tea instead. Anna drank it without complaint, which was worse.
At nine, Deputy Ramos came to the townhouse with a victim advocate named Keisha. Ramos wore the same suit from the reception, his tie loosened. He placed a small recorder on the table and asked Anna whether she wanted Vivian present.
Anna looked at her mother.
“Can you sit in the other room?”
Vivian’s first impulse was to say no. It rose so quickly that she nearly mistook it for love.
Then she nodded.
From the living room, she could hear only pieces of Anna’s statement. Graham had told her to leave shortly after the cake cutting. She had asked for one minute to return the agreement. He had accused her of trying to embarrass him. She had held out the envelope. He had picked up the guestbook from the table and said again that she should leave.
“Did you believe he intended to hit you?” Ramos asked.
A long pause followed.
“I believed he wanted me to be afraid.”
Vivian pressed her knuckles against her mouth.
When the interview ended, Keisha stayed behind. She explained options without pretending they were simple. Anna could request additional safety planning. The prosecutor would decide whether charges were filed. The recording mattered, but so did witness statements, medical documentation, and the physical evidence.
“Will the video be released?” Anna asked.
“The security footage?”
“Yes.”
“Not automatically. The investigation may keep it restricted for a while. Civil lawyers may request it. The media may try. There are different processes.”
Anna looked relieved.
Vivian was not.
Keisha noticed both reactions.
“This belongs to Anna,” she said gently. “Not the recording. Her decisions.”
Vivian folded her arms. “I understand.”
Keisha’s expression suggested she had heard that sentence from frightened parents before.
After they left, Anna showered while Vivian called a locksmith. She arranged for Anna’s apartment locks to be changed and asked Ramos about an escort. By noon, two uniformed officers met them outside the building.
Someone had taped a printed screenshot from the wedding video beside the front entrance.
LIAR was written across Anna’s face in black marker.
Vivian tore it down before Anna could see, but Anna saw the tape residue.
“What was there?”
“Nothing.”
“Stop doing that.”
Vivian held the crumpled paper behind her back.
Anna stared until Vivian gave it to her.
She unfolded it, read the word, and refolded the paper along the same lines.
“Keep it,” she said. “They might need it.”
The apartment smelled of radiator dust and the basil plant Anna had forgotten to water. Her laptop sat on the desk. The courier envelope from Vale Holdings lay in a recycling bin beside two empty soup containers.
Anna gathered clothes while Vivian photographed the hallway and windows. One of the officers stood near the door, studying a grocery flyer with excessive interest.
Inside the bedroom, Vivian found a cardboard box under the bed.
It contained copies of emails, handwritten dates, and a torn blouse with two buttons missing.
She sat back on her heels.
May you like
Anna appeared in the doorway.
“I was going to tell you.”
