Chương 5
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
Vivian lifted the blouse.
“Was this from his office?”
Anna nodded.
The room seemed to narrow around them.
“You said he grabbed your wrist and shoved you.”
“He grabbed the front of my shirt first.”
“And tore it.”
“Yes.”
“Did he touch you anywhere else?”
“No.”
Vivian watched Anna’s face. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you keep this?”
“Because I didn’t know if I was remembering it correctly.”
Vivian’s anger broke through.
“You don’t accidentally tear two buttons off your own shirt.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew it then.”
“No.” Anna’s voice sharpened. “I knew I was afraid. That isn’t the same as knowing what to call it.”
The officer in the hallway shifted his weight. The sound of his radio entered the bedroom and disappeared.
Vivian set the blouse back in the box.
“I’m sorry.”
Anna folded a sweater with unnecessary care. “You keep saying that.”
“I keep earning it.”
They took the box, laptop, passport, medication, and enough clothing for a week. Before leaving, Anna watered the basil plant. Most of its leaves had curled brown at the edges.
“It’s dead,” Vivian said.
“It’s dramatic.”
“It’s basil.”
Anna touched the soil. “It might come back.”
The small joke vanished almost as soon as it appeared, but Vivian held on to it during the drive home.
That afternoon, Frances Monroe came to the townhouse.
She arrived without makeup, wearing jeans, a wool coat, and the diamond necklace she had worn to the reception. She had forgotten to take it off. The stones looked too formal against the collar of her T-shirt.
Vivian let her stand on the porch for several seconds before opening the door.
“Is Anna awake?”
“Yes.”
“Can I see her?”
“No.”
Frances looked down. “Celia left him.”
“For the night?”
“She’s at our house.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
Vivian stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind her.
They had met during their first year of college, when Frances had borrowed a blue pen and never returned it. They had survived bad apartments, divorces, Vivian’s night shifts, Frances’s mother’s cancer, and the years when their daughters had refused to wear anything without glitter. Frances had paid for Anna’s college graduation dinner when Vivian’s hospital department closed and money was tight. Vivian had held Frances’s hand through a breast biopsy.
Now there was a door between them.
“Did Celia know what happened at his office?” Vivian asked.
“She knew Anna resigned. Graham told her Anna had become emotionally unstable.”
Vivian felt something inside her settle.
“And Celia believed him.”
“She believed enough.”
“Did you?”
“I didn’t know any of it until last night.”
“But you saw what he did.”
“Yes.”
“Will you say so?”
Frances looked toward the street. A delivery truck idled at the curb.
“I already gave a statement.”
“What did you say?”
“That I saw Graham raise the book and strike Anna.”
Vivian had not expected the direct answer. It made her anger less useful.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.”
Frances pressed her fingers to the necklace at her throat. “The security company says the recording was uploaded to an off-site server. Our lawyer has instructed them to preserve it.”
“Your lawyer?”
“The estate’s lawyer. Not Graham’s.”
“Can Graham’s family reach it?”
“They’re trying.”
Vivian looked at her sharply.
“Daniel Crewe called my husband at four in the morning,” Frances said. “He said releasing the recording would damage both families and expose the estate to liability.”
“Your estate didn’t swing the book.”
“I know.”
“Does your husband?”
Frances took too long to answer.
“He wants to protect Celia.”
“By protecting the man she married?”
“He thinks this can be contained until she decides what to do.”
Vivian laughed once, without humor. “Contained.”
“I didn’t say I agreed.”
“You came here wearing the necklace from the wedding.”
Frances touched it again as though noticing it for the first time.
“I haven’t slept.”
“Neither has Anna.”
Frances closed her eyes. “I am sorry.”
“Anna apologized to me while she was bleeding.”
The words changed Frances’s face.
Vivian regretted them and wanted them to hurt.
“I should go,” Frances said.
“Yes.”
She reached the porch steps, then turned.
“Lenora Price asked for your number.”
“Why?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
“Give it to her.”
Frances nodded.
Before she left, she removed the diamond necklace and put it in her coat pocket.
Lenora called that evening.
Her voice was low and exact. “Mrs. Hart, I owe your daughter an apology.”
“You owe her more than that.”
“Yes.”
Vivian stood at the kitchen window. Anna was asleep upstairs. “Why did you call?”
“The recording system stores local footage for seventy-two hours. The cloud archive keeps a duplicate, but access depends on the account administrator.”
“Who is that?”
“Celia’s father.”
“And he’s considering deleting it?”
“No. But he is being advised that allowing law enforcement immediate access may violate contractual and privacy obligations.”
“Does it?”
“I’m not your lawyer.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
“Because Daniel Crewe is not worried about privacy.”
Vivian waited.
Lenora continued. “Graham called me after leaving the estate. He asked whether the camera had been operational. Then he asked whether the angle showed the guestbook.”
“Did he ask about Anna?”
“No.”
The answer came without hesitation.
“Will you tell the police that?”
“I have.”
Vivian leaned against the counter.
“You stood beside him.”
“I did.”
“You grabbed his arm after he hit her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I thought he might do it again.”
The kitchen clock ticked above the refrigerator.
Lenora said, “I have advised the Vale family for twenty-six years. Graham was fourteen when his father hired me. I have spent a great deal of time explaining his behavior to other people and explaining other people’s reactions to him.”
“That sounds like a confession.”
“It may be.”
“Did you know about what happened at his office?”
“I knew there had been a complaint. I was told it involved workplace communication.”
“Who told you?”
May you like
“Daniel.”
“And you accepted that?”
