Chương 10
Selina had asked whether Flynn would still attend a one o’clock meeting.
The assistant replied that he was running late because he had gone home for a presentation folder.
Timestamp: 12:14 p.m.
Selina arrived at my house at 12:43.
Twenty-nine minutes.
Enough time to drive.
Enough time to cut herself.
Enough time to prepare the tears.
“She knew exactly when to come,” I said.
Ruiz nodded.
“Yes.”
“And she knew the cameras were down?”
“We haven’t proven that.”
The hospital room suddenly felt too small.
“Then why involve Flynn at all?”
Nora asked.
Ruiz looked at me instead.
I answered before she could.
“Because Selina didn’t need him to help.”
My voice sounded strangely steady.
“She only needed to know what he would do.”
That was the part I could not stop thinking about.
Selina had not needed to predict some impossible act of violence.
She had only needed to understand a weakness that had been visible for years.
Flynn would believe her first.
Everything after that could become an accident she benefited from.
Ruiz folded the screenshot and slid it back into her folder.
“Do not assume intent beyond what we can prove.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
I looked at her.
“Then prove me wrong.”
Her expression hardened slightly.
“That isn’t how this works.”
“I know.”
I hated that I did.
Evidence moved slower than grief.
Procedure moved slower than rage.
Neither cared what seemed obvious from a hospital bed.
Ruiz stood.
“We executed another search warrant this morning.”
“On Selina’s apartment?”
“Her storage unit.”
Nora lowered her coffee.
“She has a storage unit?”
“Apparently.”
“What was in it?”
“Mostly furniture.”
“That sounds disappointingly normal.”
Ruiz ignored her.
“There were also six bankers’ boxes.”
My heartbeat ticked faster.
“Financial records?”
“Copies.”
“Mine?”
“Some.”
“Flynn’s?”
“Some.”
“Vance Global?”
“Yes.”
Nora looked at me.
I said, “She’s been collecting material.”
“For at least eighteen months,” Ruiz said.
“Why eighteen?”
“The oldest dated copy we found was from last February.”
That lined up with the first questionable payment Daniel had mentioned.
It also lined up with the beginning of a period when Selina had suddenly become much more present in our lives.
Foundation dinners.
Weekend calls.
Private lunches Flynn called harmless because they happened in public.
I had spent so much energy asking whether they were having an affair that I had never considered another possibility.
“What did she want?” I asked.
Ruiz shook her head.
“That is what we’re trying to establish.”
“Money?”
“Maybe.”
“Control?”
“Maybe.”
“Flynn?”
“Maybe.”
Nora sighed.
“Detective Ruiz, I’m beginning to hate that word.”
“You should.”
Ruiz looked at me.
“People get in trouble when they replace maybe with definitely.”
After she left, I asked Nora to find the foundation’s tax filings.
She stared at me.
“No.”
“What?”
“You’re not working.”
“I’m reading.”
“You had abdominal surgery.”
“My eyes were not stabbed.”
“Mabel.”
“I need to understand when Selina started getting close to the foundation.”
Nora folded her arms.
“You need to sleep.”
“I slept.”
“You passed out for forty minutes after physical therapy.”
“That counts.”
“No, it counts as your body filing a complaint.”
I reached for the tablet.
She moved it out of reach.
I glared at her.
She glared back.
It was the first normal argument we had had since I woke up.
I almost enjoyed it.
Then Nora’s face softened.
“You don’t have to solve this tonight.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I know.”
“And then you do the opposite.”
I looked toward the window.
The rain had stopped.
Traffic shone on the wet streets below.
“I don’t know what to do if I’m not doing something.”
Nora sat down.
There it was.
The ugly truth beneath all my usefulness.
I had always fixed.
Deals.
Problems.
Schedules.
Marriage.
If Flynn withdrew, I became easier to live with.
If he forgot something, I compensated.
If Selina appeared, I pretended not to care.
If his mother made a cruel remark, I laughed.
I had treated endurance like strategy.
Nora reached over and adjusted the blanket near my foot.
“You can be useless for one afternoon.”
“I hate that word.”
“I know.”
She handed me the television remote instead of the tablet.
We watched half of a cooking show neither of us liked.
A man made something with fennel.
Nora complained that fennel tasted like expensive toothpaste.
I told her that made no sense.
She said most culinary criticism was emotional anyway.
For twenty minutes, nobody accused anyone of attempted murder, fraud, or destroying a marriage.
Then Caroline called.
Flynn had been served.
Not at home.
At Vance Global.
“He went there despite the board leave,” Caroline said.
“Why?”
“To meet with outside counsel.”
“How did he react?”
“You are paying me to handle your divorce, not collect emotional weather reports.”
“I’m asking whether he signed.”
“Yes.”
“Did he contest service?”
“No.”
“Anything else?”
Caroline paused.
“He asked whether you were seeking exclusive possession of the house.”
“I don’t want the house.”
“You own half of it.”
“I don’t want to live there.”
“That is different.”
The distinction irritated me because it mattered.
Our home had seemed permanent when I chose the stone counters, the walnut shelves, the stupid rug now sitting in evidence storage somewhere.
Now I could not imagine sleeping in a room where every hallway had a memory attached to it.
“Sell it.”
“We will discuss property after the forensic review.”
“I don’t care about the money.”
“Stop saying that.”
Her voice sharpened.
“You may care very much once we know what was done in your name.”
I closed my eyes.
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“Caroline.”
“Yes?”
“Did he ask anything else?”
Another pause.
“He asked if you were safe.”
The question hurt more than it should have.
I stared at the ceiling.
“He knows I’m in a hospital.”
“That wasn’t exactly what he meant.”
“I don’t care what he meant.”
“I know.”
Caroline hung up.
May you like
That evening, Flynn did not call.
At nine, a nurse I had never met before brought medication.
