Chương 11
"Mom."
She turned.
He stood.
"I'm sorry."
Margaret waited.
"For that sentence," he added.
She almost laughed.
"Very precise."
"I don't want to apologize for things I don't mean."
Margaret studied him.
"That's probably wise."
Daniel shoved his phone into his pocket.
"I did use Erin a little."
Margaret said nothing.
"I liked that she thought I was better than the guy I was at home."
He looked toward the truck.
"I liked having somewhere to complain where nobody told me I was stupid for staying."
Margaret's grip tightened on the basket.
"Did she ask you to leave Vanessa?"
"Yes."
"Did you tell her you would?"
Daniel looked down.
"Once."
Margaret closed her eyes briefly.
"Daniel."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
He looked at her.
"I'm trying to."
A vehicle turned onto the street.
Daniel's whole body stiffened.
Margaret followed his gaze.
A dark blue sedan slowed near the mailbox.
For one terrible second, neither of them moved.
Then the car continued past.
Daniel exhaled.
Margaret set the basket down again.
"You are not going to Kyle's if Vanessa knows where he lives."
"I don't have many options."
"You have a hotel."
"I said no."
"You have money for one night?"
He did not answer.
Margaret stared at him.
"Daniel."
"I paid for the truck."
"How much do you have?"
"Enough."
"How much?"
He looked angry again.
Margaret stopped.
There it was.
The old reflex.
Question until the person surrendered the number.
Turn concern into accounting.
She pressed her lips together.
"Never mind."
Daniel looked surprised.
Margaret picked up her keys.
"You're not paying."
"I didn't say I was."
"You were about to."
"I was."
Daniel almost smiled.
Margaret continued.
"But I won't."
"Thank you."
"That sounded sincere."
"It was."
She glanced back toward the house.
"You should leave before Vanessa decides the messages aren't enough."
Daniel nodded.
He climbed into the cab of the truck.
Margaret stood beside the open door.
For a moment neither knew what came next.
A hug would have felt false.
A handshake would have been absurd.
Daniel rested one hand on the steering wheel.
"Mom."
"Yes?"
"If she sends you anything, don't answer."
"I won't."
"And don't delete it."
"I know."
"You always delete messages when you're mad."
"I delete promotional messages."
"You deleted Uncle Ray's Christmas text."
"He sent me a political cartoon."
Daniel looked at her.
Margaret raised one hand.
"Fine."
He started the engine.
The truck vibrated beneath him.
Margaret stepped back.
Daniel looked through the windshield toward the house.
His gaze lingered on the kitchen window.
"You changed all the locks?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Margaret felt tears sting unexpectedly and blinked them away.
Daniel saw.
He looked down at the dashboard.
"Okay."
"Drive carefully."
"Yeah."
He pulled the door closed.
Margaret moved toward the sidewalk as the white truck rolled backward from the driveway.
Daniel stopped at the street, shifted into drive, and lifted one hand through the windshield.
Margaret lifted hers.
The truck moved away.
She watched until it disappeared beyond the neighboring houses.
Only then did she realize the cardboard box labeled VANESSA was still sitting beside the side entrance.
Margaret stared at it.
A phone buzzed inside the box.
Margaret did not move.
The box buzzed again, a muffled mechanical vibration against cardboard and folded fabric.
For one irrational second she thought of the recorder on the kitchen counter and imagined every object in the house had begun communicating without her permission.
She crouched beside the box.
The top was sealed with the tape Daniel had applied ten minutes earlier.
Another vibration came from inside.
Margaret stood again.
She did not want to open Vanessa's belongings.
She did not want to touch anything connected to her.
The distinction between caution and cowardice had become exhausting.
Margaret took out her phone and called Daniel.
He answered on the fourth ring.
"What?"
"You left Vanessa's box."
There was a pause.
"The bathroom one?"
"The one by the side door."
"I thought I loaded both."
"You didn't."
Daniel swore under his breath.
Margaret looked toward the street.
"Something inside is buzzing."
Another silence.
"What?"
"A phone, I think."
"She has her phone."
"Then she has another one."
Daniel's breathing changed on the line.
"Don't open it."
"I wasn't going to."
"Bring the box inside."
Margaret glanced toward the kitchen.
"I don't particularly want it inside."
"Mom, just don't leave it sitting out there."
"Why?"
"Because if it's hers and she's tracking it—"
He stopped.
Margaret stared at the cardboard.
"Daniel."
"I don't know."
"Tracking what?"
"I said I don't know."
"You don't say things like that for no reason."
Traffic noise filled the phone for a moment.
Daniel was still driving.
"Pull over."
"I'm fine."
"Pull over before we argue."
"I'm not arguing."
"You're driving a moving truck while distracted."
Daniel muttered something she could not hear.
A turn signal clicked through the speaker.
Then the engine sound changed.
"Okay."
Margaret looked at the box again.
"What were you going to say?"
"Vanessa uses those tracking apps."
"Which apps?"
"Normal stuff."
"That isn't an answer."
"Find My, location sharing, whatever."
"On a second phone?"
"I don't know if it's a phone."
The box vibrated again.
Margaret felt foolishly grateful Daniel could hear it through the call.
"There."
"Yeah."
"You heard that?"
"Yeah."
Margaret stepped back.
"What do I do?"
Daniel was quiet for several seconds.
"Take a picture of the box where it is."
Margaret did.
"Done."
"Then bring it inside without opening it."
"Why is that safer?"
"It isn't about safer."
"Then what?"
"So nobody can say we went through her things outside where there's no camera."
Margaret looked toward the small security camera above the side entrance.
Paul had installed the first one after a package disappeared from the porch.
Daniel had replaced it with a newer model last year.
Margaret suddenly felt grateful for every boring afternoon spent arguing about passwords and storage plans.
"The camera covers this door."
May you like
"Good."
She took another picture showing the box and doorway together.
