Chương 2
For the first time since Julian entered the room, she looked afraid.
"Desmond," she said.
The boy pulled out a tiny black recording device.
A red indicator glowed near his thumb.
Corinne lunged.
Julian caught her wrist again before she reached him.
This time she fought.
"Give me that."
Desmond backed into the marble table.
A spoon fell to the floor.
"Give it to me right now."
"Corinne."
"He's recording private conversations in my house."
Julian held her away from the boy.
"Why does that scare you?"
"It doesn't scare me."
"Then stop trying to grab it."
Desmond raised the recorder.
His hand was shaking badly enough that the red light trembled in Julian's vision.
"I recorded everything."
Corinne went still.
The chandelier made a faint glass ticking sound above them, disturbed by the rush of movement.
Somewhere outside, a lawn mower started.
It was such an ordinary suburban sound that Julian nearly laughed, though there was nothing funny in him.
He looked from the recorder to Desmond.
"Everything today?"
Desmond shook his head.
"Since Tuesday."
Corinne's face drained.
Julian let go of her wrist.
She did not lunge again.
Instead she took two slow steps backward and pressed her fingertips against the edge of the marble table.
"You have no idea what he's been doing," she said.
Desmond stared at the floor.
Julian noticed a bruise above the boy's wrist where his blazer sleeve had pulled back.
It was yellow at the edges.
Not fresh.
"Des."
The boy tugged his sleeve down.
Too late.
Julian's stomach tightened.
"What happened to your arm?"
"Nothing."
Corinne spoke at the same time.
"He fell."
Desmond looked at her.
That look answered more than either sentence.
Julian reached for the recorder.
Desmond recoiled.
The movement stopped Julian more effectively than a shout.
"I won't take it from you," Julian said.
Desmond's breathing remained shallow.
"I just want to hear what's on it."
"No."
Corinne gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
"See?"
Julian ignored her.
"Okay."
Desmond looked up.
"Okay?"
"You said no."
The boy's grip loosened slightly.
Julian returned to Wren and crouched beside her again.
Her cheek was bright red now.
A faint outline of fingers had begun to emerge.
He took out his phone.
Corinne straightened.
"What are you doing?"
"Taking a picture."
"Absolutely not."
Julian photographed Wren's cheek.
Corinne moved toward him, then stopped when Desmond raised the recorder higher.
Julian photographed the spilled food.
Then he walked into the kitchen and photographed both padlocks.
He hated himself a little more with every picture.
Not because he was taking them.
Because some practical part of him had already begun arranging evidence before the rest of him could accept that evidence was necessary inside his own home.
Corinne watched him.
"This is insane."
"Maybe."
"You come home in the middle of one bad moment and suddenly I'm some kind of monster."
Julian lowered the phone.
"Was it one bad moment?"
She did not answer.
"Corinne."
Her chin lifted.
"I have been raising those children while you disappear into work."
"That isn't an answer."
"I pack lunches."
Her voice sharpened.
"I handle school forms, dentist appointments, laundry, teachers, birthday gifts, groceries, piano, every stupid spirit day they announce at nine o'clock the night before."
Julian said nothing.
"I know which cereal Desmond actually eats and which one he claims he likes because his friends do."
She pointed toward Wren without looking at her.
"I know she hides crackers under her bed and leaves crumbs everywhere and lies straight to my face."
"She's six."
"Stop saying that like it means she has no behavior."
"It means you don't starve her for having behavior."
"I did not starve her."
Wren made a small sound.
Corinne's eyes closed.
The silence afterward was different.
It contained something Julian had not expected.
Shame.
For one second he saw the woman who used to sit cross-legged on their first apartment floor eating Chinese takeout because they owned only two chairs.
Then Corinne opened her eyes and the hardness returned.
"She had breakfast."
Desmond spoke from behind Julian.
"No, she didn't."
Corinne turned.
"Stop."
"You locked it before she came downstairs."
"I said stop."
"You told her hungry kids learn faster."
Julian's gaze moved to the recorder.
Desmond's thumb hovered near one button.
Corinne saw it too.
"Don't play that."
Desmond pressed it.
Static filled the dining room.
Then Corinne's recorded voice emerged, thinner through the tiny speaker but unmistakable.
"If you want to act like an animal around food, you can learn what happens when animals don't follow rules."
Wren covered her ears.
Desmond stopped the playback.
Nobody moved.
Julian looked at his wife.
Corinne stared back at him, and for the first time there was no argument waiting behind her eyes.
Only calculation.
"Give me your phone," Julian told Desmond.
The boy frowned.
"Why?"
"I want you to call someone."
Corinne's head snapped toward him.
"Julian."
He kept his eyes on Desmond.
"Call Mrs. Alvarez next door and ask if Wren can sit with her for a little while."
"No," Corinne said.
Julian turned to her.
"Wren is leaving this room."
"You are not sending my daughter to a neighbor while you interrogate me."
Julian looked at Wren.
She was watching Corinne.
Not him.
Waiting for permission from the person who had hit her.
That settled something inside him.
He held out his hand to Wren.
"Come on, sweetheart."
She stared at it.
Then, slowly, she put her small fingers in his.
Corinne stepped forward.
"Wren stays here."
Wren's fingers clamped around Julian's hand.
Julian looked down at them.
When he raised his eyes again, his anger had become quieter.
"No," he said.
"She doesn't."
Mrs. Alvarez answered on the third knock wearing gardening gloves and a faded blue sweatshirt with dirt across one sleeve.
Her smile appeared automatically when she saw Wren, then disappeared when she noticed the child's cheek.
Julian kept his voice low.
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"Could she stay with you for a little while?"
Mrs. Alvarez looked past him toward the mansion.
