Chương 4
Two minutes did not explain shoes soaked through unless Lily had been standing in deep snow.
Maybe she had.
Maybe not.
Vincent hated maybe.
“Did the officers see the porch?”
“Yes.”
“Footprints?”
“Snow covered most of them.”
Teresa shifted closer.
“Did they take statements separately?”
“Yes.”
“Did Rebecca say Lily ran out voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
Vincent looked at her.
Teresa’s expression had gone neutral in the way attorneys became neutral when something interested them.
“What?” Vincent asked.
She shook her head once.
Not yet.
Daniel spoke again.
“Dad, is she okay?”
Vincent looked at Lily.
“She’s asleep.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No fractures.”
Daniel exhaled.
Vincent heard relief.
Then shame for feeling relieved.
Then something close to a sob swallowed before it arrived.
“And the bruises?”
“They’re documenting them.”
“Can I see her?”
Vincent looked at Teresa.
She immediately shook her head.
“No,” Vincent said.
Daniel went silent.
“Not tonight.”
“You don’t get to keep me from my daughter.”
“No.”
Vincent kept his voice even.
“But the hospital can decide who comes in, and child services will be involved.”
Daniel said something under his breath.
“What?”
“I said this is insane.”
Vincent almost snapped at him.
Instead he looked at Lily’s wet hair curling against his shirt.
“No,” he said quietly.
“This is what happens after insane.”
Daniel ended the call without saying goodbye.
Vincent held the phone for a few seconds longer.
Then he handed it to Teresa.
She placed it facedown on the chair beside her.
“You did better than I expected.”
“I’m delighted to have exceeded your expectations.”
“That wasn’t praise.”
“I know.”
She glanced toward Lily.
“Do you believe him?”
Vincent rubbed his thumb slowly over one of the blanket’s stitched edges.
“Some of it.”
“Which part?”
“That he didn’t know about the bruises.”
Teresa nodded.
“Why?”
“He sounded afraid.”
“He could be acting.”
“He’s a terrible actor.”
“Family expertise?”
“Unfortunately.”
Teresa leaned back.
“And Rebecca?”
Vincent’s face changed.
“I don’t know.”
“That answer will help you.”
“I dislike it.”
“Also helpful.”
He looked at her.
“You become annoying when you’re tired.”
“I’m devastating before midnight.”
A nurse came in with another blanket and apologized for interrupting.
Vincent watched her tuck it around Lily’s legs.
The nurse smelled faintly of peppermint gum.
“Someone from child protective services is on the way,” she said.
“At two in the morning?” Teresa asked.
“We called the emergency line.”
“How long?”
“They said as soon as someone is available.”
The nurse looked at Vincent.
“And security asked me to tell you there are reporters outside.”
Vincent’s face went still.
“Reporters?”
“Two right now.”
Teresa stood.
“How?”
The nurse shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Vincent did.
Or thought he did.
His family name had never needed much encouragement.
A wealthy retired businessman.
A son struck at a mansion.
A child in a hospital.
A storm.
The ingredients were already halfway to becoming a story nobody involved could control.
Teresa took his phone again and opened the notifications.
Her mouth tightened.
“What?”
She turned the screen toward him.
Someone had posted a twenty-three-second video.
It had been filmed from outside the mansion’s front fence.
The image was poor and blurred by snow, but Vincent recognized the gate, the porch, and his own black coat.
The video began just before he reached Lily.
It showed Rebecca shouting something indistinct.
It showed Vincent turning.
It showed the slap.
Then the clip jerked wildly and ended.
No locked door.
No child pounding on glass.
No Daniel charging.
No context at all.
The caption read, LOCAL BUSINESS FIGURE ATTACKS WOMAN OUTSIDE SON’S HOME, CHILD PRESENT.
Vincent stared at it.
“Who filmed this?”
Teresa scrolled.
“Anonymous account.”
“How many views?”
“Enough.”
“Meaning?”
“Forty thousand.”
Marco muttered something in Italian from the corner.
Teresa looked at him.
“I agree.”
Vincent continued staring at the frozen image of himself with his arm raised.
He had spent decades learning that reputation was less like a building than people believed.
It was ice.
Strong until the crack.
Then suddenly everybody claimed they had heard it breaking for years.
“Let them talk,” he said.
Teresa looked up.
“That is exactly what you cannot do.”
“I mean I’m not responding tonight.”
“Good.”
“No statements.”
“Good.”
“No calls.”
“Excellent.”
Vincent looked at her.
“You seem disappointed.”
“I had three arguments prepared.”
“You’ll survive.”
“Barely.”
The humor lasted less than a second.
Then the curtain opened again.
Dr. Shah entered with a woman in a navy sweater, gray slacks, and snow-damp boots.
She was in her late forties and carried no visible folder, only a phone and a canvas bag with a faded university logo.
“Mr. Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Elaine Cooper with county child protective services.”
Vincent nodded once.
Elaine looked at Lily.
“Is she asleep?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to speak with you first, and then with her father.”
“He’s not here.”
“I know.”
Elaine sat down.
Her movements were unhurried.
“Before anything else, I need to be clear that my job tonight is not to decide who is good or bad.”
Vincent said nothing.
“My job is to decide whether Lily can safely leave this hospital and, if so, with whom.”
Vincent looked at Teresa.
Teresa’s posture changed subtly.
This was the real beginning.
Not the porch.
Not the punch.
Not the hospital.
This.
“What do you need from me?” Vincent asked.
Elaine studied him for a moment.
“The truth, including the parts that make you look bad.”
Vincent glanced at his bruised knuckles.
“That won’t be difficult tonight.”
Elaine almost smiled, but did not.
“Tell me what happened from the moment you arrived.”
So Vincent did.
He did not soften the slap.
He did not soften the punch.
He did not claim he had lost control, because that would have been a lie.
He had chosen both actions.
Elaine asked whether he regularly used violence.
Vincent said no.
She asked whether he had ever struck Daniel before.
Vincent paused.
Teresa turned her head sharply.
May you like
Elaine noticed.
“When he was seventeen,” Vincent said.
