Chương 3
“I don’t think so.”
“Don’t let anyone touch the cup, the liquid, or the container it came from.”
Daniel’s eyes went to Nora.
Her hand was still pressed against her pocket.
He repeated the instruction aloud without looking away from her.
A few guests shifted farther back.
One woman pulled a child toward the hallway.
Another man quietly set his own teacup down as if it had suddenly become dangerous by association.
Nora gave Daniel a small, incredulous shake of her head.
“You’re really doing this.”
He ended the call only after the dispatcher told him officers and paramedics were on the way.
Then he lowered the phone.
“I almost drank it.”
“You don’t know what it is.”
“That’s the first useful thing you’ve said.”
Her jaw tightened.
Lily pressed into his side again.
Daniel put an arm around her shoulders.
The motion steadied him more than it seemed to steady her.
Nora looked toward the doorway once more.
“You said I could leave.”
“I said I wasn’t trapping you.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
Daniel glanced at her pocket.
“It isn’t.”
Marcus spoke from near the wall.
“Sir.”
Daniel turned slightly.
The server held both hands where everyone could see them, as though afraid of being misunderstood.
“There are cameras in the hall outside the dining room.”
Nora’s head snapped toward him.
Daniel noticed.
Marcus noticed too.
The young man’s face changed with the uncomfortable realization that he had become important.
“Inside the room?” Daniel asked.
Marcus shook his head.
“No, sir.”
“Then they won’t show the table.”
“No.”
Nora exhaled through her nose.
It was almost a laugh.
Almost relief.
Daniel felt Lily stiffen.
He looked down.
“What?”
She whispered, “She told me the cameras don’t see this room.”
Nora closed her eyes.
Daniel stared at her.
“That’s a very strange thing to say to a six-year-old.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You did,” Lily said.
Her voice cracked, but she did not hide this time.
Nora’s eyes opened.
“Lily, you asked why you couldn’t play in here after dinner.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Sweetheart,” Daniel said quietly.
Lily looked up at him.
He could see confusion beginning to mix with her fear.
That frightened him in a different way.
Children could be certain and still be wrong.
Adults could use that uncertainty to protect themselves.
He needed to know which thing was happening before anger made the decision for him.
“What exactly did Nora say about the cameras?”
Lily rubbed her nose with the back of her wrist.
“She said nobody watches in here.”
Nora shook her head.
“That is not what I said.”
“What did you say?”
“I said the security cameras don’t cover private dining rooms because one of the guests made a joke about being recorded while eating.”
Daniel searched his memory.
There had been a joke.
Something from Warren Kline, who had complained that the house cameras were better than the ones at his office.
Daniel had barely listened.
“That happened,” Warren said reluctantly from the far end of the room.
Several people turned toward him.
He lifted one shoulder.
“I said something about the cameras.”
Nora looked at Daniel.
“There.”
Her voice trembled.
“Does that matter at all to you?”
It did.
Daniel hated that it did.
He could feel certainty trying to retreat, leaving behind a messier and more dangerous question.
He crouched beside Lily again.
“Did Nora say anything else?”
Lily looked toward Nora.
“No.”
“About the cup?”
Her mouth closed.
Nora leaned forward.
“Daniel, stop.”
He looked at her.
“She’s scared, and you’re feeding her answers.”
“I asked a question.”
“You’re asking questions while everyone stares at her like she has to save your life twice.”
The words landed harder than Daniel expected.
Lily immediately looked at the floor.
He felt ashamed.
Not enough to trust Nora, but enough to understand that suspicion could hurt the wrong person before it found the right one.
He stood.
“Lily doesn’t have to say anything else.”
Nora’s shoulders loosened slightly.
Then Daniel added, “But you do.”
Her expression hardened again.
A siren became audible somewhere beyond the tall windows.
One of the guests crossed his arms.
Another woman whispered that she was going to leave before the police arrived.
Daniel did not stop her.
Within seconds, two others followed.
The evening was coming apart in ordinary ways now.
People worried about being questioned.
They worried about photographs.
They worried about tomorrow morning.
Daniel watched an attorney he had known for eight years slip quietly into the hallway without saying goodbye.
That, more than the broken cup, made the event feel real.
Nora moved her hand from her pocket.
Daniel’s attention sharpened.
Slowly, she pulled out a small glass bottle.
Lily gasped.
Several guests stepped backward at once.
Nora held it between two fingers.
It was no bigger than Daniel’s thumb, with a white cap and a pharmacy label wrapped around it.
“This is what she saw.”
Daniel stared at the bottle.
“What is it?”
“Medication.”
“For what?”
“That is none of your business.”
He laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“You brought it to my table.”
“I carry it with me.”
“Then put it down.”
“No.”
“Nora.”
“I’m not putting my prescription on a dining table so twenty people can photograph the label.”
Daniel glanced around.
At least three phones were visible now.
One woman immediately lowered hers.
Nora saw it too.
Her face flushed.
“This is exactly what I mean.”
The sirens grew louder.
Daniel held out his hand.
“Then give it to the police.”
“I was planning to.”
Lily whispered, “That’s not the bottle.”
Nora went still.
Daniel turned toward her.
“What?”
Lily pointed.
“The other one was blue.”
Nobody spoke.
Nora looked at the bottle in her own hand as if she had never seen it before.
Then her gaze went to Lily.
“You’re mistaken.”
“No.”
“It was probably the cap.”
“It was blue.”
“Lily.”
Nora’s voice changed.
Not louder.
May you like
Sharper.
Daniel stepped between them.
