Chương 7
Clara had been in the laundry room folding towels.
By the time she reached the corridor, the stroller was already moving.
“Did she tell you where I was?”
Clara asked.
Olivia nodded.
“She said laundry.”
Chen looked at Clara.
“Was that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Could Mrs. Mercer have known that?”
“She sent me there.”
Olivia’s mouth opened.
Clara saw the connection reach her before she spoke.
“She made you go downstairs.”
Clara looked at Chen.
The officer’s pen had stopped.
“What exactly did she ask you to do?” he said.
Clara pressed her fingers against the hospital blanket.
“She told me the guest towels had been left in the dryer.”
“Had they?”
“Yes.”
“Was that unusual?”
“No.”
“Did she normally give you that kind of instruction?”
“Sometimes.”
The answer sounded weak even to Clara.
Chen nodded anyway.
“Did she know you would be there for several minutes?”
“Yes.”
Olivia whispered, “She knew I knew.”
Clara turned to her.
“What?”
“She knew I heard the phone call.”
Chen said, “The one where she said someone would blame Clara?”
Olivia nodded.
“She looked at me after.”
“Did she threaten you?”
“No.”
“Tell you not to repeat it?”
“No.”
Olivia’s face tightened.
“That’s worse.”
Chen waited.
“She usually tells me what not to say.”
Clara felt something cold settle lower in her stomach.
Chen glanced toward the curtain.
“Usually?”
Olivia nodded.
Clara wanted to interrupt.
She wanted to stop the officer before the conversation became something Olivia would have to carry for years.
But she also wanted every word out.
The two wishes sat together painfully.
Chen asked, “What kinds of things?”
Olivia stared at the floor.
“When she leaves.”
Clara’s hands curled against the blanket.
“When she gets mad at Emma.”
Chen’s voice changed slightly.
“How does she get mad at Emma?”
“She says she won’t stop crying on purpose.”
Clara closed her eyes.
Vanessa had said versions of that to her too.
She had laughed when she said them.
Emma knows exactly how to ruin my makeup.
Emma waits until I sit down.
Clara had treated them as tired-parent jokes.
Now she heard edges she had chosen not to hear.
“Did she ever hurt Emma?” Chen asked.
Olivia’s breathing became shallow.
Clara said, “You don’t have to answer fast.”
Chen gave Clara a quick look but did not object.
Olivia shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.”
“She grabbed her hard once.”
Clara opened her eyes.
“Where?”
“Her arm.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
Clara searched backward.
Emma had had a faint red mark near her upper arm two mornings ago.
Vanessa said the car-seat buckle had pinched her.
Clara had believed that too.
Something inside her turned against itself.
“How hard?” Chen asked.
Olivia demonstrated on her own forearm.
“Like this.”
Her fingers dug into the pale skin.
“Because she was crying.”
Clara said her name softly.
Olivia let go.
A red imprint remained for a few seconds.
Chen wrote again.
“Did anyone else see?”
“No.”
“Did you tell your father?”
Olivia shook her head.
“Why not?”
The girl’s expression changed.
Not fear.
Something closer to resentment.
“He’s always working.”
The words landed harder because she did not say them angrily.
Chen looked toward the hallway.
“Is your father here?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want him in the room?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
Clara felt a brief sting on Adrian’s behalf, followed immediately by guilt for feeling it.
Chen did not react.
“Okay.”
He looked at Clara.
“I need to speak with Ms. Bennett separately too.”
Olivia’s face tightened.
“You’re making me leave?”
“No.”
Marisol appeared behind the curtain carrying two paper cups and a bottle of orange juice.
“I have returned with terrible coffee and one juice that costs more than lunch.”
Olivia looked relieved.
Marisol took one look at the room and lowered her voice.
“Bad timing?”
Chen stood.
“Actually, good timing.”
He introduced himself and asked whether Marisol could stay with Olivia outside.
Olivia looked at Clara.
Clara nodded.
“I’ll be here.”
The girl slid off the chair.
Before leaving, she leaned close.
“Don’t tell Dad I said he works all the time.”
Clara nearly laughed.
“I won’t.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes.
“Unless they make you?”
Clara glanced at Chen.
“Yes.”
“That’s annoying.”
“It is.”
Olivia followed Marisol out.
Chen waited until they were gone.
“Ms. Bennett, I need you to think carefully before answering.”
Clara nodded.
“Have you ever seen Mrs. Mercer behave physically aggressively toward either child?”
Clara opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
Chen let the silence remain.
“I’ve seen her frustrated.”
“What does that mean?”
“She raises her voice.”
“At the children?”
“At everyone.”
“Physical contact?”
Clara looked down.
A memory surfaced because of Olivia’s fingers pressing into her arm.
Vanessa pulling Olivia by the wrist after the girl spilled juice on a silk rug.
Olivia stumbling because Vanessa walked faster than she could.
Clara had stepped in by offering to clean the stain.
Vanessa had released her.
At the time, Clara had been more concerned with avoiding an argument.
“She grabbed Olivia once.”
“When?”
“Months ago.”
“How?”
“By the wrist.”
“Hard?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Olivia react?”
“She said it hurt.”
Chen wrote that down.
Clara stared at his pen.
“I should have done something.”
He did not respond to that.
“Anything else?”
Clara searched.
The search itself hurt.
Every ordinary incident had become unstable.
A closed nursery door.
Vanessa complaining that Emma was manipulative.
Olivia going silent at dinner.
A bottle left half full.
The electronic lock.
Clara no longer trusted her own sorting of harmless and harmful.
“She slapped the countertop beside Olivia once.”
Chen looked up.
“Did she hit Olivia?”
“No.”
“Threaten to?”
“No.”
“She broke a glass.”
“Intentionally?”
“I think so.”
“When?”
“About three weeks ago.”
“What was happening?”
“Olivia didn’t want to eat dinner.”
Chen nodded.
“Anything involving Emma besides today?”
Clara hesitated.
“There was bruising.”
His pen stopped.
“Where?”
“Upper arm.”
“When did you see it?”
“Two days ago.”
“What explanation were you given?”
May you like
“Car-seat buckle.”
“Did that explanation seem plausible then?”
