Chương 11
“My daughter is afraid to go home because of her.”
“I understand.”
“No, you understand the sentence.”
“Christopher,” Rebecca said quietly.
He stopped.
Mercer’s expression did not change.
“Mrs. Vale is currently at the residence.”
Christopher looked down at the order.
The mansion address was printed in black type beneath his name.
His own home had become a place he needed legal permission to enter.
“What about Emma’s belongings?”
“Your attorney can arrange retrieval.”
Christopher laughed once without humor.
“Of course.”
Mercer watched him.
“There’s one more issue.”
Christopher raised his eyes.
“Mrs. Vale informed investigators this morning that she intends to remain in the residence.”
Rebecca stared.
Christopher said, “For how long?”
Mercer folded his hands.
“That is not a police matter.”
Christopher looked again at the papers.
The entire day seemed to narrow to the white page in his hands.
Upstairs, Emma called, “Dad?”
Christopher turned instantly.
She stood at the top of the stairs wearing socks and holding the rabbit-shaped night-light she had apparently found in Rebecca’s guest room.
“Are we going home soon?”
He looked at the protective order.
Then at Rebecca.
Then back at his daughter.
“Not today.”
Emma came down three steps.
“Is Juliette there?”
Christopher hesitated.
The hesitation was enough.
Emma stopped.
Her face changed.
“She’s in my house?”
Christopher walked toward the stairs.
“Em.”
“She’s in my room?”
“No.”
“You don’t know.”
Her voice rose.
Christopher stopped at the bottom step.
“You’re right.”
Emma clutched the night-light against her chest.
“You said she wouldn’t be there when I came home.”
“She won’t.”
“But she gets to stay?”
“For now.”
Emma stared at him with a betrayal so clean and direct that he could not hide from it.
“That’s not fair.”
“No.”
“Make her leave.”
Christopher looked at the child who had believed for years that his money, his house, his height, his certainty, and the simple fact of being her father meant he could make bad things stop.
“I’m trying.”
Emma’s eyes filled.
“Try harder.”
The words hit Christopher with the strange force of hearing his own failure translated into a child’s language.
Emma disappeared upstairs before he could answer.
Rebecca waited until the bedroom door closed.
“She gets that from you.”
Christopher looked at her.
“That was not the moment.”
“It was absolutely the moment.”
He almost smiled, but Detective Mercer was still standing in the entryway holding the second copy of the protective order, and nothing about the situation allowed the feeling to survive.
Mercer cleared his throat.
“There’s a property retrieval process if you need essential belongings.”
Christopher nodded.
“My attorney will handle it.”
“That’s best.”
The uniformed officer shifted toward the door.
Mercer remained.
“One more thing.”
Christopher braced himself.
“Mrs. Vale has asked for a police escort tomorrow when she retrieves certain personal items from another property you own.”
Christopher frowned.
“What other property?”
“A condominium downtown.”
“I don’t own a condominium downtown.”
Mercer looked at the paperwork in his hand.
“Then I may have incomplete information.”
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed.
“What address?”
Mercer read it.
Christopher recognized the building immediately.
Not because he owned it.
Because his company had leased two corporate apartments there years earlier for visiting executives.
One lease had ended.
The other, he thought, belonged to a subsidiary and had been vacant for months.
“I need to check that.”
Mercer nodded.
“Through your attorney.”
“I understand.”
The phrase had become meaningless.
Everyone told him what he understood.
Very little of it felt understandable.
After the officers left, Rebecca locked the door.
“You know the address.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Company housing.”
“You think Juliette has been using it?”
“I don’t know.”
Rebecca folded her arms.
“You keep saying that.”
“It keeps being true.”
He called Aaron Bell.
Bell answered on the third ring and sounded as if Christopher had interrupted lunch.
Christopher explained the address.
Bell stopped chewing.
“That matters.”
“Why?”
“Because if Mrs. Vale has another available residence and represented otherwise in seeking the order or in the housing dispute, Denise needs to know.”
“She may not have represented anything.”
“Correct.”
Christopher rubbed his eyes.
“I want to know whether she’s been using it.”
“You don’t investigate personally.”
“I own the company that leases it.”
“You especially don’t investigate personally.”
“Then what can I do?”
“Send me the lease records through counsel.”
“I can have my office pull them.”
“Have your general counsel do it.”
Christopher stared at the protective order on Rebecca’s kitchen counter.
“My own company suddenly requires a chaperone.”
“Get used to it.”
Bell’s tone was dry.
“You are now the least useful person in your own crisis.”
Christopher looked toward the stairs.
“I’m still Emma’s father.”
“Yes.”
“That makes me useful.”
“That makes you essential.”
Bell paused.
“And therefore dangerous if you decide being essential means being impulsive.”
Christopher said nothing.
Bell continued.
“Call your general counsel.”
Christopher did.
Twenty-five minutes later, a PDF arrived showing the condominium lease under Vale Meridian Holdings.
The designated occupant field contained Juliette’s name.
Christopher read it twice.
The authorization date was eight months earlier.
His electronic signature appeared at the bottom.
He stared at it.
Rebecca leaned over his shoulder.
“Did you sign that?”
“I don’t remember.”
“That isn’t the question.”
Christopher enlarged the signature block.
His company used a digital approval system for routine contracts.
Senior staff often submitted documents in batches.
He approved dozens in minutes.
The signature was technically his because the credentials were his.
Whether he had noticed Juliette’s name was another matter.
He opened his email and stopped himself before searching.
Bell had told him not to improvise evidence collection.
He forwarded the lease to counsel instead.
Rebecca read the occupant line again.
“Why would she need an apartment?”
Christopher set the phone down.
“She told me she hated downtown.”
“People lie about neighborhoods.”
“She complained about the elevators.”
“That sounds like Juliette.”
He gave her a look.
Rebecca sat back.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No.”
May you like
He picked up the untouched coffee and drank it cold.
Upstairs, something thumped.
