Chương 12
I read it once.
Then again.
Rachel looked away from the screen.
Marcus held out his hand.
“Give me the phone.”
I did not.
“Claire.”
“He says he didn’t know.”
“Give me the phone.”
I looked at the message again.
The words should have relieved me.
Instead, they opened a question I had been avoiding since the beginning.
If Caleb truly believed I had signed that document, then someone had convinced him I had agreed to the very plan he knew I had refused.
And if he was lying now, he had just chosen the first version of the story he thought might save him.
Either way, the man coming home tomorrow was bringing more than an explanation.
He was bringing a decision about who he expected me to believe.
I gave Marcus the phone.
He read the message without touching anything else, then placed it faceup on the table.
“Do not answer.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
Rachel glanced at me.
“You were thinking about it.”
“I was thinking about several things.”
“That is usually how answering starts.”
I sat down and folded my hands beneath the table so neither of them could see them shaking.
“What if he really didn’t know?”
Marcus removed his glasses.
“That question can wait.”
“It can’t for me.”
“It has to.”
I hated the calmness of his voice because some part of me depended on it.
Rachel closed the document window.
“His knowledge is separate from what the file shows.”
“What does the file show?”
“That your signature image was inserted into the document before his authenticated signature was applied.”
“So he saw it there.”
“He saw a document displaying your signature.”
“That is not the same as knowing it was fake.”
“No.”
I looked at Marcus.
He did not rescue me from the ambiguity.
I pushed away from the table.
“Then I need to hear him.”
“Tomorrow,” Marcus said.
“Tonight.”
“No.”
I turned on him.
“You don’t get to decide whether I speak to my husband.”
“That is true.”
“Then stop telling me no.”
“I am advising you not to have an emotionally charged conversation while we are preserving evidence and while Caleb may be trying to construct his position.”
“He is my husband, not a hostile witness.”
Marcus’s expression changed very slightly.
“Claire.”
The pity in that one word made me furious.
“Don’t.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“You were.”
“I was going to say that a person can be both.”
The kitchen seemed colder.
Rachel looked down at her notes.
My phone rang again.
Caleb.
I stared at the screen until it stopped.
Then another message arrived.
I NEED YOU TO BELIEVE ME.
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because belief had become the most expensive thing he could ask from me.
Marcus stood.
“Rachel and I are going to finish documenting the devices.”
“And then?”
“Then I am taking your laptop with your authorization so a forensic specialist can preserve it.”
“Fine.”
“You should sleep.”
“I’m sure that will happen immediately.”
He ignored that.
“You said your friend is arriving tonight.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He and Rachel moved into the study.
I remained in the kitchen.
For several minutes I watched the clock above the stove change numbers.
I wanted to call Caleb.
I wanted to hear whether he sounded frightened or ashamed or angry.
I wanted some tone in his voice to tell me which version of my husband had existed all along.
Instead I opened the refrigerator.
There was half a lemon, two containers of leftovers, milk, cheese, eggs, and a bottle of mustard Diane had bought because she disliked the brand I used.
I stared at the mustard too long.
Then I took it out and threw it away.
The act was petty.
It felt wonderful.
I threw away the olives only she ate too.
Then the sugar-free creamer.
By the time Natalie texted that her flight had landed, I had cleared half a shelf.
I stood there looking at the empty space and began laughing quietly.
Rachel appeared in the doorway.
“Everything okay?”
“No.”
She looked at the open refrigerator.
“Should I ask?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“Probably wise.”
Natalie arrived forty minutes later in sweatpants, a denim jacket, and the expression of someone prepared to fight an airport, a corporation, or God depending on which presented itself first.
She dropped her backpack in the foyer and wrapped both arms around me.
I stiffened.
Then I cried into her shoulder.
She held me without saying anything.
That was somehow worse.
When I finally pulled away, she looked at my face.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Marcus came from the study holding a sealed evidence bag.
Natalie pointed at it.
“Is that the laptop?”
“Yes.”
“Did you find anything?”
“Enough to keep looking.”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“I don’t like lawyer answers.”
“Neither does Claire.”
“I’m starting a club.”
Marcus almost smiled.
Before leaving, he gave me a printed list of instructions.
Do not modify company files.
Do not delete messages.
Do not access Caleb’s accounts.
Do not respond substantively without counsel.
I read the page.
“You printed this because you think I’m twelve.”
“I printed it because you are angry.”
“Those are not the same thing.”
“Sometimes the operational difference is small.”
Natalie made an approving sound.
“Keep him.”
“He’s not a dog.”
“I’m aware.”
Marcus pointed toward the top of the page.
“Call me if Caleb arrives before we expect him.”
“He said tomorrow morning.”
“Plans change.”
Then he looked at Natalie.
“Do not let her investigate anything.”
Natalie saluted him.
“I have been waiting years for legal authority.”
“You have none.”
“Still feels good.”
After they left, Natalie checked every exterior door.
I watched from the sofa.
“You know the locks are new.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Being annoying in a way you will secretly appreciate later.”
“I already appreciate it.”
She turned around.
“That was disgustingly healthy.”
May you like
“Don’t get used to it.”
She sat beside me.
