Chương 13
“No.”
“Did she ever suggest you should be?”
Michael thought.
“She made comments.”
“What comments?”
“That Claire liked wine.”
Claire stared at him.
Michael continued.
“She said it jokingly.”
“No, she didn’t,” Claire said.
Michael looked at her.
“She said it like a joke.”
“That’s different.”
He nodded.
Harris wrote again.
The door opened a few inches.
Dana leaned in.
“Sorry.”
Harris stopped.
“Everything okay?”
Dana looked toward Claire.
“Noah is asking for you.”
Claire stood immediately.
“Is he all right?”
“He’s upset.”
Claire left without another word.
Michael started to rise.
Dana looked at him.
“He asked for his mother.”
He sat back down.
The correction was gentle.
It still hurt.
After the door closed, Harris studied Michael for a moment.
“You okay to continue?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Harris leaned back.
“Then I’m going to ask you something that may sound accusatory.”
Michael almost smiled.
“Apparently that’s tonight’s theme.”
Harris did not smile.
“Did Ms. Hale have any financial reason to want the children living primarily with you?”
Michael frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Money.”
“No.”
“Child support?”
“I pay Claire some.”
“How much?”
Michael told him.
“Would that change if custody changed?”
“Probably.”
“How significantly?”
“I don’t know.”
Harris watched him.
“Would Ms. Hale know?”
Michael thought of tax documents on the home-office printer.
Mortgage spreadsheets.
Budget conversations.
“Yes.”
“Any tension about money in the marriage?”
Michael hesitated.
“Some.”
“What kind?”
“We were renovating the house.”
“The wine cellar?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“She wanted to buy a second property.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I said it wasn’t a good time.”
“Did the child support come up in that conversation?”
Michael’s stomach tightened.
He remembered Vanessa at the kitchen table, laptop open, columns of numbers across the screen.
She had said the support payment was ridiculous.
He had told her it was part of raising his children.
She had rolled her eyes.
“Yes.”
Harris nodded.
“What did she say?”
“That I was overpaying.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“Did she know the amount would potentially decrease if you had substantially more parenting time?”
Michael stared at him.
“I never thought about it.”
“But did she?”
“I don’t know.”
Harris closed the folder again.
Michael looked toward the door where Claire had disappeared.
For the first time, the custody theory stopped sounding purely emotional.
It acquired numbers.
Mortgage payments.
A second property.
A monthly amount Vanessa resented because she saw it leaving an account that also belonged to her life.
Michael felt nauseated.
“She wanted the kids more so we’d pay Claire less?”
Harris shook his head.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re asking.”
“I’m identifying possible incentives.”
“She hurt Ella over money?”
“We don’t know why she hurt Ella.”
Michael’s hands curled.
Harris continued quietly.
“And motive can be mixed.”
Michael looked at him.
“Meaning?”
“People do harmful things for more than one reason.”
The door opened again.
Claire stood there.
Her face was pale.
Michael rose.
“What happened?”
She looked at Harris first.
Then at Michael.
“Noah told Dana something else.”
Michael’s chest tightened.
“What?”
Claire swallowed.
“He said Vanessa used to make him practice answers.”
Harris stood.
“What answers?”
Claire looked at Michael.
“About where he wanted to live.”
Michael looked toward the hallway where Noah waited with Dana and felt something inside him go very quiet.
Harris asked Claire to repeat exactly what Noah had said.
“He said Vanessa would ask him questions when Michael wasn’t home.”
Claire pressed both hands against the back of a chair.
“She’d say things like, ‘Where do you sleep better?’ and ‘Who makes you feel safer?’ and then tell him which answers sounded more grown-up.”
Harris’s expression remained controlled.
“Did he say how often?”
“No.”
“Did he say whether she recorded him?”
Claire looked toward the door.
“He thinks maybe once.”
Michael closed his eyes.
Harris asked, “Why does he think that?”
“He saw her phone propped against a mug.”
Michael opened his eyes again.
“What did she ask him?”
Claire’s mouth tightened.
“Whether he wished he lived here all the time.”
Harris wrote something down.
“And what did he answer?”
“He said no.”
Michael’s chest hurt.
Claire continued.
“He said she stopped the recording and told him he was being childish.”
Nobody spoke for a moment.
Harris finally said, “I need to talk to Dana before we ask Noah anything else.”
“Don’t ask him again tonight,” Claire said.
“I agree.”
“He’s done.”
“I agree.”
Michael looked at Harris.
“What happens now?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Ella is evaluated and discharged when the medical team is comfortable.”
“And Vanessa?”
“She’ll remain in custody pending decisions on charges and release conditions.”
Michael nodded.
“And after tonight?”
Harris glanced at the folder.
“After tonight, people start doing slower work.”
Michael almost laughed at the phrase.
Slower work.
It sounded inadequate for the mess in front of them.
Harris seemed to understand.
“Digital review, interviews, medical documentation, child welfare follow-up, possibly family court filings.”
Claire sat down.
“So there’s no moment where somebody tells us what this all means.”
“No.”
Harris’s answer was gentle.
“There usually isn’t.”
Michael looked through the glass panel in the door toward Noah.
Dana had given him a pack of crackers.
He was opening them carefully along the seam.
“What do we do?”
Harris followed his gaze.
“Tonight, keep them somewhere safe.”
Michael looked at Claire.
She looked back.
That was the first decision that did not require discussion.
Ella was discharged shortly after one in the morning.
The doctor described mild hypothermia, superficial wrist injury, and the need to watch for swelling, numbness, unusual sleepiness, or worsening pain.
Michael listened as if there would be a test.
Claire asked practical questions.
How often to check Ella’s temperature.
Whether she could sleep normally.
Whether the wrist needed to remain wrapped.
Noah stood beside the bed holding Ella’s shoes.
When the nurse brought a wheelchair, Ella refused it until Noah climbed onto the footrest and declared himself the driver.
“You’re not driving,” Claire said.
“I’m supervising.”
May you like
“You’re nine.”
“That’s why I’m supervising.”
