Chương 4
The reply arrived almost immediately.
Multiple.
Your father tripping Daniel is visible in at least one.
Claire stared at the words until they blurred.
She had wanted proof.
Now that it existed, she felt sick.
Another message appeared.
Richard is already saying it was accidental.
Of course he was.
Claire put the phone facedown on her thigh.
Across the waiting area, a vending machine hummed beside a television showing a baseball game with the sound muted.
A man in work boots slept with his chin on his chest.
A teenage girl held an ice pack against her cheek while her mother filled out forms.
Nobody in the room knew that Claire's father had spent twenty-five years donating enough money to the hospital to have his name engraved on a wall downstairs.
Nobody cared.
For a few minutes, she was grateful for that.
Then her phone rang again.
Megan.
Claire answered.
"Where are you?"
"At St. Matthew's."
"Is Daniel okay?"
"They're doing X-rays."
"What happened?"
Claire listened to her sister breathing.
"You tell me."
"What does that mean?"
"Did Dad pick Daniel up from your house the night Evan died?"
Silence.
Not confusion.
Silence.
Claire stood and walked toward the empty end of the corridor.
"Megan."
"I don't know what Daniel remembers."
"That isn't what I asked."
"Claire, tonight is already a disaster."
"Did Dad pick him up?"
"Yes."
The corridor seemed to narrow.
"Why did you lie to me?"
"I didn't lie."
"You told me Daniel slept at your house."
"He did."
"After Dad brought him back?"
Megan exhaled shakily.
"Yes."
Claire pressed two fingers against her forehead.
"What happened at the hospital?"
"I don't know."
"Don't do that."
"I genuinely don't."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"Dad said you couldn't handle one more thing."
Claire laughed once, without humor.
"And that worked on you?"
"I was twenty-nine, Claire."
"You were thirty-four."
Another silence.
"Fine."
Megan's voice sharpened.
"I was thirty-four and terrified and your husband had just died and you looked like somebody had cut the electricity inside you, so when Dad said he would deal with Daniel, I let him."
"Deal with what?"
"I don't know."
"Megan."
"I don't."
The answer cracked this time.
"Daniel came back around two-thirty in the morning."
Claire leaned against the wall.
"He was crying?"
"No."
That frightened her more.
"What was he doing?"
"Nothing."
"That's not an answer."
"He sat at my kitchen table."
Megan's voice had gone quiet.
"He wouldn't take his coat off."
Claire closed her eyes.
"He kept asking me whether dead people could get in trouble."
The door at the end of the corridor opened, and a nurse pushed an empty wheelchair past Claire.
She waited until it disappeared around the corner.
"What did you say?"
"I told him no."
"And then?"
"He asked whether people could get in trouble for talking to someone before they died."
Claire's hand went cold around the phone.
"Why didn't you tell me this?"
"Because the next morning he didn't remember saying it."
"Or wouldn't admit saying it."
"I didn't know the difference."
"You should have told me."
"I know."
"No, you don't."
"I know, Claire."
"You let Dad decide what I could handle after my husband died."
"I was trying to help."
"You were helping him."
Megan stopped breathing for a moment.
When she spoke again, her voice had changed.
"Why are you asking now?"
Claire looked toward the imaging doors.
"Daniel found something in Dad's hotel office."
"What?"
"A photograph of him outside rehab."
Megan said nothing.
"Taken eleven days ago."
Still nothing.
"Megan?"
"Was there writing on it?"
Claire straightened.
"How did you know that?"
"I didn't."
"You just asked."
"I guessed."
"No."
"Claire."
"What do you know?"
The line became so quiet Claire checked the screen to make sure the call had not dropped.
Then Megan whispered, "You need to get out of that hospital."
Claire looked around.
"Why?"
"Take Daniel and leave."
"He may have a fractured wrist."
"Then go somewhere else."
"What are you talking about?"
"Did Dad see you take the envelope?"
"Yes."
Megan swore under her breath.
"Tell me what is happening."
"I can't do this over the phone."
"Then come here."
"No."
"Megan."
"No, Claire, listen to me."
Her sister sounded frightened now.
Not nervous.
Frightened.
"Do not show that photograph to anybody at St. Matthew's."
Claire stared through the narrow window in the imaging door.
"Why?"
"You are going to tell me now."
"I can't."
"You can."
A familiar voice behind Claire said her name.
She turned.
Dr. Samir Patel stood ten feet away in blue scrubs.
He looked older than she remembered, with gray beginning at his temples, but his expression was unmistakable.
He had been Evan's friend before he had been Claire's.
On the phone, Megan said, "Who is there?"
Claire did not answer.
Samir approached slowly.
"I heard Daniel was brought in."
"He's getting X-rays."
"I know."
Something in his tone made her grip the phone harder.
"How do you know?"
"I'm covering trauma consults tonight."
Claire nodded, but Samir's attention had shifted to the purse beneath her arm.
"Claire, did Daniel have anything with him when he came in?"
Megan heard him.
"Who is that?"
"Samir."
Her sister made a small sound.
Samir stopped.
"What?"
Claire looked from the phone to his face.
"Megan?"
"Do not give him the envelope."
Samir went completely still.
Claire felt the corridor change around them.
"How does she know about an envelope?" he asked.
Claire ended the call.
Samir's eyes stayed on her purse.
"What's in it?"
"You tell me."
"I can't if I haven't seen it."
"Eleven days ago, somebody photographed Daniel leaving this building."
Samir's expression barely moved, but the color left his face.
Claire noticed.
"Who was he meeting?"
"I don't know."
"That's not true."
"I said I don't know."
"You reacted before I finished."
Samir looked toward the nurses' station.
"Keep your voice down."
The phrase was too much like Richard's.
May you like
Claire stepped back.
"Stay away from my son."
