Chương 13
“Expenses?”
“Moving costs.”
My mouth went dry.
“Why was Elena moving?”
“She says she wanted to get away from Daniel.”
Claire stared at Ortiz.
“And Marlene offered to pay for that?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like buying silence.”
“It may be relevant as evidence of motive or consciousness, depending on context.”
Claire gave a humorless laugh.
“You really do talk like a detective.”
Ortiz accepted that without offense.
“What else did Marlene do?” I asked.
“Elena says Marlene repeatedly framed Daniel’s behavior as something he did when stressed.”
I closed my eyes.
The same excuse.
Years apart.
Different woman.
Same mother.
“She said he needed help, didn’t she?”
Ortiz watched me.
“Yes.”
“She said ruining his life wouldn’t help anyone.”
“Yes.”
“She said he was ashamed.”
“Yes.”
“She said he wasn’t dangerous.”
Ortiz did not answer.
I opened my eyes.
“She told me all of those things.”
Claire looked at me.
“When?”
“Before the attic.”
The memories came faster now.
Daniel screaming at me during the first trimester after I asked why he had copied photos from my phone into a private folder.
Marlene arriving an hour later.
Marlene sitting across from me at the kitchen table.
He gets obsessive when he feels abandoned.
He hates feeling accused.
He’s not dangerous.
He’s scared.
You two are having a baby.
Think about what you’re building.
At the time, it had sounded like family mediation.
Now it sounded rehearsed.
“She used the same script,” I said.
Ortiz wrote that down.
I shook my head.
“No.”
She stopped.
“Don’t write it like I know that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know if it was exactly the same.”
The distinction mattered.
Seven months upstairs had made certainty feel precious.
I did not want to contaminate mine.
“Write that she used similar phrases.”
Ortiz nodded.
“Okay.”
Claire looked at me strangely.
“What?”
“You sound like her.”
“Who?”
“The detective.”
“I’m trying not to exaggerate.”
“You don’t have to defend your credibility to me.”
I almost snapped at her.
Then stopped.
“I do to everyone else.”
Claire looked down.
“That’s fair.”
A nurse came in to adjust the IV.
Her badge said Megan.
She asked whether I had eaten anything.
The question made me flinch.
She noticed.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
“I can ask differently.”
“It’s fine.”
“It doesn’t look fine.”
I almost laughed.
She had freckles across her nose and a pen tucked behind one ear.
“I haven’t eaten.”
“Would you be willing to try something later if the doctor clears it?”
The wording helped.
Willing.
Try.
If.
No command.
“Maybe.”
“Okay.”
She wrote it down and moved on.
After she left, Claire whispered, “I like her.”
“She asked me one question.”
“I make decisions quickly.”
“You always have.”
“That’s why I have two ex-husbands.”
I looked at her.
She shrugged.
“Bad example.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
It hurt my abdomen.
Claire pointed at me.
“That one was your fault.”
The contraction that followed wiped out the humor.
This one was stronger.
I gripped the bed rail.
Claire reached for me but stopped herself.
“Hand?”
“Yes.”
I breathed through it.
The fetal monitor changed rhythm.
Not dramatically.
Enough for Megan to reappear.
Then Dr. Feld.
Then another nurse.
The room shifted from quiet to coordinated movement.
No one panicked.
That scared me more.
“What is it?” I asked.
Dr. Feld watched the tracing.
“The baby had a deceleration.”
“What does that mean?”
“The heart rate dropped for a short period.”
“Is it back?”
“Yes.”
“Is that bad?”
“It can happen for different reasons.”
I hated different reasons.
“Do you need to deliver?”
“Not from one event alone.”
She repositioned me on my side.
Another nurse adjusted the monitors.
Claire stood near the wall with her hands over her mouth.
I watched her.
She looked terrified.
For once, I did not feel responsible for fixing that.
Dr. Feld stayed another few minutes.
The tracing stabilized.
The room slowly emptied again.
Ortiz had moved into the hall during the medical evaluation.
When she came back, I said, “I can’t keep doing both.”
She stopped.
“Both what?”
“Being a patient and being evidence.”
Claire looked at me.
Ortiz pulled the chair closer.
“You don’t have to.”
“I do.”
“No.”
“If I stop talking, they get time.”
“They’re in custody.”
“Custody ends.”
“Evidence doesn’t disappear because you sleep.”
I looked at the phone.
“That’s what everyone keeps saying until something disappears.”
Ortiz leaned forward.
“Rachel, listen to me.”
I stiffened.
She caught it.
“Sorry.”
Her voice softened.
“I’m not ordering you.”
I nodded.
She continued.
“You have already preserved more evidence than most victims ever have access to.”
The word victims landed badly.
I looked away.
“You have recordings.”
She kept going.
“Messages.”
“Physical evidence from the attic.”
“Devices from the house.”
“Financial records.”
“Two identified prior witnesses.”
“Medical findings being documented right now.”
“That does not mean the case is finished.”
“It means you are allowed to sleep.”
My eyes filled.
I hated that this was what finally broke through.
Permission to sleep.
Not justice.
Not arrests.
Sleep.
Claire sat beside me.
“She’s right.”
I looked at her.
“You don’t get to agree with authority this fast.”
Claire nodded solemnly.
“Fair criticism.”
I rubbed my face.
“I’m scared I’ll wake up and something will have changed.”
“Something will change,” Ortiz said.
I looked at her.
“Cases change.”
“People remember things differently.”
“Defense attorneys challenge evidence.”
“Prosecutors make decisions you may hate.”
“Judges make decisions I may hate.”
“None of that means tonight disappears.”
I stared at her.
It was not comfort.
It was worse and better than comfort.
It was reality.
“Will they get bail?”
“Possibly.”
Claire started to protest.
Ortiz held up a hand.
“I’m not going to promise something I can’t control.”
“What if they come near me?”
“We can pursue protective conditions.”
“Pursue?”
“Yes.”
I shut my eyes.
Again with the words that refused to guarantee anything.
May you like
But I had spent too long with people who guaranteed lies.
Maybe uncertainty was the sound honest people made.
