Chương 13
Claire gave her a tired look.
“You and Detective Brooks should start a support group.”
“Would you attend?”
“No.”
“Then we would save on coffee.”
Susan laughed unexpectedly.
The sound loosened something in the room.
Twenty minutes later, physical therapy arrived.
Claire wanted to refuse.
Her entire mind was in a trash bag behind a strip mall, but the therapist, a patient man named Arjun, reminded her that muscles did not care about police procedure.
“You get to be angry and still stand up.”
“I’m starting to resent everyone who speaks in sentences that sound wise.”
“I can say it worse.”
“Please.”
Arjun adjusted the walker.
“If you stay in bed all day, your good leg gets lazy.”
Claire stared at him.
“That’s much better.”
She pushed herself upright.
Pain flashed through her leg and settled into a deep, pulsing ache.
Her arms shook against the walker.
Arjun stayed near her elbow without touching.
“Three steps.”
“I did seven yesterday.”
“Yesterday you nearly fainted.”
“I did not faint.”
“You announced that the floor was moving.”
“That is different.”
Daniel looked away to hide a smile.
Claire made the first step.
Then the second.
By the fourth, sweat collected along her hairline.
By the sixth, she hated everyone in the room.
On the seventh, she stopped.
Arjun nodded toward the chair.
“Sit.”
“I can do one more.”
“You can.”
He waited.
“You also don’t need to.”
Claire stood there breathing hard.
The old instinct demanded the extra step simply because someone had suggested she could stop.
She had spent years proving she was not difficult, weak, expensive, dramatic, needy, emotional, or inconvenient.
She lowered herself into the chair.
Arjun locked the wheels.
“Better.”
Claire looked at him.
“I still dislike you.”
“That’s fine.”
“See?”
She pointed at Marisol.
“He’s in the club.”
Arjun had no idea what she meant.
For five minutes, the hospital room became ridiculous.
Daniel complained about the recliner.
Susan insisted he had slept through the night in it.
He denied this despite the fact that everyone had heard him snoring.
Arjun accused the hospital socks of being designed by people who hated ankles.
Claire laughed until her eyes watered.
Then her phone was recovered from police intake and the room became serious again.
Officer Ortega brought it himself in an evidence bag.
He did not hand it to Claire.
“It’s been photographed and documented.”
“Was anything deleted?”
“We’re not done examining it.”
“Did you find something?”
He hesitated.
Claire knew that hesitation now.
“Say it.”
“The device was powered off when it was given to hospital staff.”
“So?”
“Your neighbor told us it was active the night you reached her house because she heard it ringing inside the Mercer residence while she was speaking with the emergency dispatcher.”
Claire’s mouth tightened.
“She heard my phone?”
“She said she heard the same ringtone you used when you once showed her a video in your driveway.”
Claire almost smiled.
Margaret noticed everything.
“So someone turned it off later.”
“Possibly.”
Ortega continued.
“There are also signs that the passcode was entered after the time you say Judith took it.”
Claire stared at him.
“Can you prove who entered it?”
“No.”
“Of course not.”
“Claire.”
“I know.”
She pressed two fingers to her forehead.
“Facts, not interpretation.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m beginning to hate facts.”
Ortega almost smiled.
Then he sat.
“The wooden item from the dumpster has been recovered.”
Every muscle in Claire’s body tightened.
“It is a pastry roller?”
“It appears to be.”
“Broken?”
“One handle is damaged.”
“Blood?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Fingerprints?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Anything visible?”
“Possible staining.”
Claire’s heart began to pound.
“Mine?”
“We don’t know.”
She looked away.
Ortega let the silence remain.
“There were other items in the same bag.”
Claire turned back.
“What items?”
“Kitchen waste, paper towels, disposable gloves.”
Claire stared.
“Gloves?”
“Household cleaning gloves.”
“What color?”
“Yellow.”
Her stomach dropped.
Judith kept yellow rubber gloves under the kitchen sink.
Claire had seen them dozens of times.
She had watched Judith wear them while scrubbing cutting boards and complain that Claire loaded the dishwasher incorrectly.
“Anything else?”
“A section of torn pajama fabric.”
Claire’s breath stopped.
Susan made a small sound.
Daniel stood.
Claire looked down at her hospital gown.
“The pants they cut off me at the hospital are here.”
Ortega nodded.
“We know.”
“Then what fabric?”
“A gray cotton blend.”
Claire’s mind moved backward.
Judith had struck her first while Claire wore pale gray pajama pants.
The paramedics had cut the injured leg open from ankle to thigh.
The damaged fabric had come with her to the hospital.
But there had been another tear.
At the knee.
Claire had snagged it crawling through the service opening.
A piece might have ripped away at the metal frame.
She remembered the scrape.
The sensation of something catching.
“The pantry.”
Ortega leaned forward.
“What?”
“My pants tore when I crawled through the vent.”
“Where exactly?”
“At the exterior panel.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Could fabric have remained there?”
“Yes.”
Claire stared at him.
“Did they collect it from the vent?”
“No.”
“Then how did it get into Judith’s trash bag?”
Ortega said nothing.
The room seemed to tilt.
Susan sat beside Claire.
“Maybe Judith found it afterward.”
Claire looked at her.
“Yes.”
The answer came slowly.
“Which means she knew where I went.”
Daniel’s face hardened.
Ortega raised a hand.
“That is one possibility.”
Claire laughed without humor.
“There’s the word again.”
“Because there are others.”
“Such as?”
“Someone cleaned around the opening and picked up loose debris without understanding what it was.”
Claire stared at him.
“Judith does not clean vents.”
Ortega nodded.
“That kind of context matters.”
Claire swallowed.
“Did Raymond say anything about cleaning?”
“He said Judith spent part of the morning cleaning the kitchen before they drove to the dumpster.”
Daniel muttered a curse.
Ortega stood.
“We may need another statement from you later.”
May you like
“Why later?”
“Because you are medicated, recovering from surgery, and we now have physical evidence that needs testing.”
