Chương 13
She shoved the door.
The chain caught.
The officer reached through the gap and unhooked it from the inside after Celeste stepped back.
The door opened.
Sophie ran.
Emily dropped to her knees on the walkway.
The child collided with her.
Emily cried out when Sophie hit the injured arm, but she wrapped her good arm around her daughter anyway.
Sophie buried her face against Emily’s neck.
“I thought you were sick.”
“I’m okay.”
“Grandma said you were at the hospital.”
“I know.”
“Are you dying?”
Emily made a sound that was half sob and half laugh.
“No.”
She kissed Sophie’s hair.
“No, baby.”
Sophie clung tighter.
Celeste stood in the doorway.
For once, she had nothing to say.
The officer beside Emily crouched.
“Can you two move away from the steps?”
Emily nodded.
She stood slowly, keeping Sophie against her right side.
The child was getting too big to carry comfortably, but Emily did not put her down.
I stayed where she had asked me to stay.
Then Sophie saw me.
“Nana.”
That one word undid whatever discipline I had left.
I crossed the lawn.
Emily shifted Sophie toward me.
The child wrapped one arm around my neck.
She smelled like strawberry shampoo and the crackers Robert always kept in his kitchen.
“You came too.”
“Of course I did.”
“Daddy said Mommy was being bad.”
Emily closed her eyes.
I looked at her.
She shook her head slightly.
Not now.
I understood.
I kissed Sophie’s forehead.
“Tonight, we’re just getting you somewhere quiet.”
“Can I sleep with Mommy?”
Emily answered immediately.
“Yes.”
Celeste stepped onto the porch.
“You’re making a mistake.”
Emily looked at her.
“No.”
“You are emotional, injured, and in the middle of a police matter.”
“I am her mother.”
“And Adrian is her father.”
“He used Sophie to threaten me.”
“You have no proof of that.”
Claire’s voice came from behind us.
“Yes, she does.”
We turned.
Claire had arrived with Nolan’s car.
She climbed out holding her phone.
Nolan looked surprised.
“I thought you were staying.”
“I finished my statement.”
Claire walked toward the porch.
“And I found something.”
Celeste stared at her.
“You searched your phone?”
“I searched my messages.”
Claire looked at Emily.
“Adrian texted me three weeks ago.”
She unlocked the screen.
“He asked whether I thought Sophie would be better off staying with Dad for a while if you had some kind of breakdown.”
Emily’s face went still.
Claire continued.
“I told him you weren’t having a breakdown.”
“What did he say?”
Claire swallowed.
“He said, not yet.”
No one spoke.
Sophie looked between the adults.
Emily reached for her.
I handed her over.
The child pressed her face against Emily’s shoulder.
Emily whispered, “Send that to Monica.”
Claire nodded.
“And to the police.”
Another nod.
Celeste’s composure cracked.
“You children are handing private family messages to strangers.”
Nolan looked at her.
“Police aren’t strangers when somebody gets hurt.”
“You have always been weak.”
He flinched.
Then he laughed quietly.
“Maybe.”
He touched his swollen lip.
“But I’m getting tired of being useful to strong people.”
Celeste looked at him as if she did not recognize him.
A supervisor arrived ten minutes later.
There were questions.
More statements.
The officers documented that Sophie had been brought to the Briarwood house after Celeste falsely represented Emily’s condition to Robert.
Nobody arrested Celeste that night.
That frustrated Emily.
It also frustrated me.
But procedure did not become less necessary because we were frightened.
The supervisor explained that the circumstances surrounding Sophie, the device access, and any possible interference with evidence would be handled separately.
Celeste was told not to contact Emily except through counsel regarding immediate family logistics.
She objected.
The officer wrote down the objection.
That, more than an argument would have, seemed to frighten her.
We left Briarwood shortly before ten.
Sophie fell asleep against Emily before we reached the interstate.
Her shoes were still on.
One sock had slid halfway off her heel.
Emily noticed and fixed it with one hand.
I watched her do it.
There was something unbearable about ordinary tenderness after violence.
David drove us to my house.
Emily had refused a hotel.
She had also refused to return to the house she shared with Adrian.
My guest room had become an unofficial storage room after Thomas died.
I had to move two boxes of tax records and a lamp I had been meaning to donate for three years.
Emily stood in the doorway holding Sophie.
“You kept Dad’s sweaters.”
I looked at the box beneath the window.
“I forgot those were there.”
“You don’t forget anything.”
“I forget selectively.”
She almost smiled.
We put Sophie in my bed instead.
Emily sat beside her until the child’s breathing became deep and even.
Then she let Dr. Chen examine her.
Lillian came to the house in jeans and a hospital sweatshirt.
She photographed the bruising with Emily’s consent, checked the sling, and frowned when Emily described the numbness in two fingers.
“You need orthopedic follow-up tomorrow.”
Emily groaned.
“Tomorrow is becoming crowded.”
“That’s unfortunate for tomorrow.”
Lillian adjusted the sling.
“Your body doesn’t care about your calendar.”
She left after midnight.
Emily and I sat at the kitchen table.
Neither of us wanted food.
I made tea anyway.
She drank half a cup.
Then she stared at the steam.
“Is Adrian going to prison?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer surprised her.
“You always know.”
“No.”
“I used to think you did.”
“So did I.”
She looked at me.
I folded the tea bag string around the spoon.
“Criminal cases are not wishes.”
“What about the money?”
“Separate issue.”
“Will he lose his job?”
“Probably.”
“That sounded more like you.”
I sighed.
“The trust called an emergency board session for eight tomorrow morning.”
“Are you voting?”
“Yes.”
“To fire him?”
“To suspend him pending investigation.”
Emily frowned.
“Why not fire him?”
“Because process matters most when you’re angry.”
She looked down.
“That’s annoying.”
May you like
“Very.”
The next morning, Adrian did not become Chief Operating Officer.
