Chương 11
“You have been doing that.”
The line stayed open.
For several seconds, no one said anything.
Then a different sound came through.
A door opening.
Marcus whispered something away from the phone.
Lydia straightened.
“Who’s there?”
No response.
“Marcus?”
His voice returned, lower.
“I have to go.”
“Where are you?”
“I’ll call you.”
“No.”
“Lydia.”
“Tell me where you are.”
“I can’t.”
“Then I’m giving the police this call.”
He swore.
“You don’t understand what that does.”
“Neither do you.”
“Lyd.”
She looked at me, then at Tessa, then at the phone.
“I’m done protecting you.”
The line disconnected.
For a moment, Lydia simply stood there with the phone in her hand.
Then she sat down.
No collapse.
No sobbing.
Just a slow, exhausted lowering of her body into the chair.
Raymond said, “I’m going to give the police everything we have.”
Lydia nodded.
Tessa said, “Dana needs a copy of the call notes and messages.”
Another nod.
I waited.
Eventually Lydia looked at me.
“He didn’t say he loved me.”
I did not know what to say to that.
So I told the truth.
“No.”
“He always says it before he hangs up.”
Her mouth trembled.
“Even when we’re furious.”
I sat beside her.
Across the room, the abandoned bouquet was beginning to sag.
A few white petals had fallen onto the table.
No symbolism.
Flowers did that.
“I told you to go to a retirement home,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I said you were a burden.”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to hurt you.”
“I know.”
Her eyes flicked toward mine.
“You’re supposed to say I didn’t mean it.”
“Did you?”
She looked away.
“At the time?”
“Yes.”
Another long silence.
“I think part of me did.”
That hurt more than a cleaner apology.
I preferred it.
“I resented you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For being impossible to need.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“You always had the answer.”
“I clearly did not.”
“You had money, lawyers, assistants, drivers, houses, plans.”
She stared at her wedding ring.
“If something broke, you fixed it before anybody got to see you scared.”
I almost denied it.
Then I remembered standing in hospital bathrooms after my husband died, running cold water over my wrists so Lydia would not see me shaking.
She had been nine.
I had thought hiding fear made me a better mother.
Maybe all it taught her was that fear belonged somewhere private and shameful.
“I was scared plenty,” I said.
“You never looked it.”
“That was deliberate.”
She gave me a sad little smile.
“Congratulations.”
I laughed once.
It surprised both of us.
Then Raymond’s phone rang again.
He answered.
This time, he did not speak for nearly a minute.
When he ended the call, his face was grim.
“They found Peter.”
Lydia stood.
“Where?”
“A gas station off Montauk Highway.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
Her knees softened with relief.
“What happened?”
“He walked in asking for help.”
“His hand?”
“Cut badly, but not life-threatening.”
I breathed out.
“Has he spoken to police?”
“He has.”
“What did he say?”
Raymond hesitated.
“That Marcus took the investor files.”
Lydia’s eyes closed.
“And?”
“He said Marcus wasn’t alone.”
I looked at Raymond.
“Who was with him?”
“Peter says the man driving the van was Adrian Kessler.”
Lydia opened her eyes.
“Peter saw Kessler driving?”
Raymond nodded.
“That’s what he told the responding officer.”
“Then Marcus lied.”
“Yes.”
The word sat there cleanly.
No room left to soften it.
Lydia picked up her bouquet from the table and looked at it as if she had forgotten what it was.
Then she dropped it into the trash.
Tessa glanced toward the bin.
“Dana is still on the line.”
Lydia looked down at her phone.
“I forgot.”
Dana said, “That’s understandable.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It is.”
Lydia rubbed her forehead.
“What happens now?”
“Now you do less.”
“That sounds impossible.”
“It will feel that way.”
Dana’s voice stayed calm.
“You preserve records, you stop contacting Marcus, you do not speculate publicly, and you let the investigators separate facts from panic.”
Lydia stared toward the reception.
“People are going to ask.”
“They already are.”
“What do I say?”
“Nothing substantive.”
“That will make me look guilty.”
“Talking without full information can make you look worse.”
Lydia laughed bitterly.
“Wonderful.”
I said, “You don’t owe the guests an investor briefing.”
She looked at me.
“No, but apparently some of them are investors.”
That was fair.
I sat back.
The house had become too warm.
Someone had turned down the air conditioning earlier for the flowers.
Now the room smelled of lilies, chilled wine, and faintly of the lemon cleaner the staff used on the counters.
Outside, applause rose again.
Helen had apparently found a way to keep the evening moving.
I almost admired her.
Raymond said, “Police want to speak with Lydia.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Lydia closed her eyes.
“Of course.”
Tessa said, “Dana can stay on the phone or come in person.”
“I want her here.”
“Then say nothing beyond identification until she arrives.”
Lydia looked at me.
“Can Mom stay?”
Dana answered before I could.
“If the officer permits, but I may ask Eleanor to leave for parts of it.”
I did not like that.
I kept the dislike to myself.
That, too, felt like progress.
Twenty minutes later, two county detectives arrived through the service entrance.
They were not dramatic.
No badges raised above shoulder height, no uniforms storming through the tent, no announcement that ruined the string quartet.
One was a woman named Detective Shaw with tired eyes and damp hair from the evening humidity.
The other, Detective Ruiz, carried a small notebook and apologized to the housekeeper for tracking grass onto the floor.
Reality had terrible production values.
Dana arrived five minutes after them.
She was shorter than I expected and wore a navy suit with comfortable shoes.
She shook Lydia’s hand, then mine.
“Mrs. Vale.”
“Eleanor.”
“Dana.”
She sat beside Lydia.
May you like
Detective Shaw looked around the room.
“Would you prefer somewhere more private?”
