Chương 5
Dad reached for my phone, then stopped before touching it.
"May I?"
I handed it to him.
His eyes moved over the photograph once, then again, slower.
Ruiz stepped beside him.
"Don't reply."
"I wasn't going to."
"You'd be surprised."
Dad gave him a look.
Ruiz took the phone gently and forwarded the message through whatever evidence process he was using.
I watched the photograph on the screen until my stomach began to twist.
The workbench in Dad's garage had been part of my childhood.
I did homework there while he rebuilt transmissions.
I ate peanut butter crackers there.
I learned to use a torque wrench there.
Now somebody had opened a box on that bench because I had hidden proof inside it.
"Was the card in that box?" Ruiz asked.
"Yes."
Dad looked at me.
"What exactly was on it?"
"Everything the bunny recorded."
"Everything?"
"About five weeks."
His face tightened.
Ruiz said, "Including today?"
"No."
The bunny had remained in our house until I packed my hospital bag.
I had swapped the card two days before labor started and hidden the full one at the garage.
A second card remained in the bunny.
Ruiz looked toward it.
"What's on the current card?"
"Two days."
Dad's eyes sharpened.
"Then he doesn't have everything."
"Unless he takes that too."
Ruiz picked up the stuffed rabbit with gloved hands.
For the first time, it looked ridiculous to me.
One pink ear.
A stitched smile.
A camera hidden behind a plastic eye.
I had spent months talking to it without meaning to.
Sometimes folding laundry in front of it.
Sometimes whispering into Lily's empty nursery because speaking aloud made me feel less trapped.
I wondered how much of myself was stored on those cards alongside Marcus's threats.
Ruiz sealed the bunny in an evidence bag.
Dad looked unhappy.
"She's going to want that back."
He meant Lily.
I almost told him Lily didn't know what a rabbit was.
Then I realized he was trying to make the room ordinary again.
"She has other toys."
"Not with espionage capabilities."
Denise coughed into her hand.
I looked at her.
She was hiding a smile.
My phone vibrated again in Ruiz's hand.
Another unknown number.
No photograph this time.
Just three words.
Ask Harrison why.
Ruiz showed the screen to me.
Harrison's name hit the room differently now.
Dad's expression closed.
"Why what?"
Nobody answered.
Ruiz asked whether Harrison had ever offered me money personally.
"Not directly."
"Through the attorney?"
"Yes."
"Did the messages specify what the money was for?"
"Custody."
"Anything else?"
I hesitated.
There had been one sentence in the first email that I hadn't understood.
The proposed agreement included a confidentiality provision covering "private family, financial, and corporate matters."
At the time, I assumed rich people inserted confidentiality language into breakfast orders.
Now Northstar Civic Solutions sat in my memory like a loose wire.
"I need my email."
Ruiz handed me the phone after documenting the message.
I opened the old thread.
My hands shook enough that I mistyped the search term twice.
Finally, the attorney's email appeared.
I read the paragraph aloud.
Dad stopped pacing.
Ruiz held out his hand.
I passed him the phone.
"Corporate matters," he repeated.
"Why would a prenatal custody agreement include corporate matters?"
"I asked Marcus."
"What did he say?"
"That his father was paranoid."
Dad gave a soft, humorless sound.
Ruiz scrolled.
"Who drafted this?"
"Lawrence Pike."
Harrison's attorney.
Or at least the man I had always believed was Harrison's attorney.
Ruiz's expression changed slightly.
"What?"
I asked.
"Pike doesn't represent Harrison anymore."
"Since when?"
"According to Harrison, eighteen months."
I stared at him.
"But the email signature says Vance Holdings general counsel."
"That may have been true once."
Dad said, "Who does he represent now?"
Ruiz looked at me.
"Marcus."
The room went quiet.
A memory surfaced so suddenly that I almost spoke over it.
A company Christmas dinner.
Marcus drinking bourbon near the coatroom.
Pike beside him, laughing too loudly.
Harrison across the room talking to donors.
I had walked past Marcus just as he said, "Dad won't have a choice once the numbers hit."
At the time I assumed he meant quarterly earnings.
I told Ruiz.
He wrote it down.
"Exact words?"
"As close as I can remember."
"Who else heard it?"
"I don't know."
"Any context?"
"No."
He nodded.
No praise.
No dramatic reaction.
Just another uncertain piece added to a pile.
My phone rang.
This time the caller ID showed Evelyn Vance.
Ruiz looked at me.
"Do you want to answer?"
Every muscle in my shoulders tightened.
Then I said yes.
I put the call on speaker.
Evelyn began before I could speak.
"Emily, where is Harrison?"
Her voice was sharp but controlled.
"I don't know."
"Don't play games with me."
"I'm not."
"Security took him somewhere, and Marcus isn't answering."
Ruiz pointed toward himself, silently asking permission to speak.
I shook my head.
"Evelyn, did you send me a message earlier?"
"What message?"
"The one saying I would never see the Vance house again."
A pause.
Then, "Yes."
Dad closed his eyes.
At least she didn't lie.
"Why?"
"Because you are trying to destroy my family six hours after giving birth."
My grip tightened on the phone.
"I told police what Marcus did."
"You told police your version."
"He strangled me."
Another pause.
Then Evelyn exhaled.
"Marcus has always been physical."
The words were so casual that my skin went cold.
"What does that mean?"
"He gets carried away."
Dad's hand closed into a fist.
Ruiz motioned for him to stay silent.
"Evelyn, has he hurt anyone before?"
"Don't twist my words."
"I'm asking you."
"And I'm telling you that my son has a temper."
"Has he hurt anyone before?"
The silence stretched.
Then she said, "There was a girlfriend."
Ruiz's pen moved.
"What girlfriend?"
"College."
"What happened?"
"I wasn't there."
"What did Marcus tell you?"
"That she fell."
Dad looked at Ruiz.
May you like
Ruiz kept writing.
"Did you believe him?"
