Chương 3
“Dad, come sit beside her.”
Christopher crossed the room immediately.
He lowered himself onto the floor instead of taking the chair, putting his face closer to Emma’s level while Parker fitted a pulse oximeter over the girl’s finger.
Emma reached for him without being asked.
He gave her his hand.
“You’re doing great,” Parker said.
Emma looked suspiciously at the small red light glowing through her fingertip.
“It doesn’t hurt.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you telling me I’m doing great?”
Parker’s mouth twitched.
“Fair point.”
Under any other circumstances Christopher might have laughed.
Instead he looked toward the open doors.
Juliette remained outside.
Nina had moved farther away from her.
Teresa stood near the threshold, uncertain which side of the doorway she belonged on.
The second paramedic placed a stethoscope against Emma’s back.
“Deep breath for me.”
Emma tried.
The breath turned into a cough.
Christopher’s grip tightened around her hand.
Parker looked at him.
“She’s moving air.”
Christopher nodded as if he understood what he was supposed to do with that information.
“Her oxygen’s good right now.”
“Right now?”
“Mr. Vale.”
“I’m listening.”
“We need to evaluate her properly, and given the submersion and the coughing, we’re recommending transport.”
“Yes.”
Parker studied him for a fraction of a second, perhaps expecting resistance from a man in an expensive house and a ruined suit.
Christopher said, “Whatever she needs.”
Emma leaned toward him.
“Do I have to go in the ambulance?”
“Yes.”
“With the siren?”
“Maybe.”
“I don’t like the siren.”
“I know.”
“You hate it too.”
Christopher looked at her.
She had remembered something ridiculous.
Months earlier, an ambulance had passed them at an intersection, and he had muttered that sirens always seemed louder inside the car than outside it.
He had forgotten the remark before the light turned green.
Emma had not.
“I do,” he said.
“We can hate it together.”
Her mouth moved as if she almost smiled.
Behind him, Juliette said, “Can I come in?”
Emma’s hand jerked in his.
Christopher turned his head.
“No.”
Juliette stared at him from the courtyard.
The red mark across her cheek had deepened.
A strand of hair clung to the damp corner of her mouth, and for the first time since he had known her, she appeared not elegant, not controlled, not socially prepared, but simply frightened.
“You don’t get to decide I’m guilty because she’s scared.”
“I’m deciding you stay away from her.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
Christopher’s voice remained low.
“It isn’t.”
Juliette glanced toward the paramedics.
One of them had stopped pretending not to listen.
“Christopher, we need to talk privately.”
“We’re not talking privately.”
Her eyes flashed.
“Do you hear yourself?”
He did.
The answer made him feel sick.
His hand still burned where it had struck her.
“I hear myself.”
“Then maybe you also hear the part where you assaulted me in front of half the household.”
Teresa lowered her gaze.
Nina stared at the pool.
Christopher looked at Juliette’s cheek.
“Yes.”
She seemed unprepared for the lack of argument.
“Yes, I did.”
“You think saying it calmly makes it better?”
“No.”
For several seconds neither of them spoke.
The room filled with smaller sounds instead.
Velcro ripping from a medical bag.
Water dripping from Emma’s dress onto the tile.
A delivery truck shifting gears somewhere beyond the property wall.
Christopher said, “You can call the police.”
Juliette blinked.
He continued, “You should, if that’s what you want to do.”
Her expression tightened.
“And tell them what?”
“The truth.”
A bitter laugh escaped her.
“That’s rich.”
Christopher almost answered.
Emma tugged his hand.
He turned back at once.
“Dad.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m cold.”
Parker reached for another blanket.
Christopher helped wrap it around her.
The ordinary movement steadied him more than anything else had.
Tuck one side beneath her arm.
Pull the other over her knees.
Make sure the wet hair was not trapped against her neck.
Do something useful.
Something that did not require deciding which person he loved had lied to him.
Parker touched Emma’s shoulder.
“We’re going to move you onto the stretcher, okay?”
Emma looked at Christopher.
“I’ll be with you.”
That was enough.
She allowed them to lift her.
As the paramedics wheeled her toward the front hall, Christopher followed with one hand on the rail.
Teresa moved after them.
Christopher stopped her near the doorway.
“Stay here.”
Teresa looked startled.
“With Mrs. Vale?”
“With the house.”
He lowered his voice.
“Don’t clean the courtyard.”
Her face changed.
It was subtle, but he saw the understanding.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“What about the broken glass?”
Christopher frowned.
“What broken glass?”
Teresa went still.
From behind them Juliette said, “A pitcher fell earlier.”
Christopher turned.
He had not seen any broken glass near the pool.
Teresa looked immediately ashamed that she had spoken.
“Where?”
Juliette answered before Teresa could.
“Near the table.”
Christopher pictured the courtyard as he had crossed it.
Chair.
Pool.
Red petals.
Staff by the wall.
Juliette.
Emma.
He could not remember a pitcher.
He could not remember glass.
He could barely remember whether the French doors had been open or whether he had shoved them apart.
“Leave it,” he told Teresa.
Juliette folded her arms.
“So now the courtyard is a crime scene?”
“I don’t know what it is.”
“You already decided.”
“No.”
He looked directly at her.
“That’s what scares me.”
Emma called for him from the hallway.
Christopher went.
He did not look back.
The ambulance doors were open beneath the covered drive.
A security guard stood near the gate talking to another uniformed man Christopher did not recognize.
News traveled fast inside a large property, but not usually that fast.
Christopher climbed into the ambulance beside Emma.
Parker shut one door, then paused with her hand on the second.
“Is her mother coming?”
Christopher looked at Emma.
Emma looked at the ceiling.
“No.”
Parker did not ask why.
The door closed.
May you like
The siren remained off as they began moving.
Emma watched the equipment cabinets vibrate softly with the road.
