Chương 12
Then he said, “I’ll send Page a message.”
“You’ll call her.”
“I don’t have her number.”
I gave it to him.
“Tell her everything.”
“If you hold anything back and they find it somewhere else, she won’t protect you.”
“I understand.”
“No.”
My voice became quiet.
“You’re about to.”
I hung up.
Claire appeared at the bottom of the stairs wearing one of my old college sweatshirts.
Her hair was flattened on one side.
“Who was that?”
“Marcus.”
She stopped.
“At seven in the morning?”
“He has evidence.”
“Of what?”
“Silas moving money through shell companies.”
Claire rubbed her face.
“Coffee.”
“I already made some.”
She looked toward the empty pot.
“No, you didn’t.”
I followed her gaze.
Apparently I had only thought about making it.
“That’s encouraging.”
Claire filled the machine.
“You should sleep.”
“I should do a lot of things.”
She spooned grounds into the filter.
“Did he say why he kept quiet?”
“Mortgage, children, career, cowardice.”
“So normal reasons.”
I looked at her.
She shrugged.
“People always expect betrayal to have glamorous motives.”
The coffee machine clicked.
“Usually it’s just bills.”
That sounded painfully true.
My phone rang again.
This time it was Samantha.
“I just got a voicemail from Marcus Vale.”
“He called me first.”
“Of course he did.”
“He says he has records.”
“I heard.”
“Can you represent him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I represent you.”
“Right.”
“I’m sending him to independent counsel.”
“Will he cooperate?”
“That depends how frightened he is.”
“He sounded frightened.”
“Good.”
I hated the word.
Samantha continued.
“Miller called me too.”
“What now?”
“They got the warrant.”
“For the server?”
“Yes.”
My body tightened.
“And?”
“They’re imaging the backup system this morning.”
“Do they have the recorder files?”
“Not yet.”
I heard Claire set a mug on the counter.
Samantha’s voice changed slightly.
“There’s something else.”
“Of course there is.”
“They interviewed Kayla for four hours.”
I sat back down.
“What did she say?”
“She confirmed Silas came to the hospital.”
“And the flash drive?”
“He gave it to her in an envelope.”
“Why her?”
“He told her she was the only person he trusted not to betray the family.”
I almost admired the cruelty of it.
He had made the person he intended to blame feel chosen.
“What else?”
“Kayla says he repeatedly asked whether you had ever talked about life insurance.”
“She said no.”
“Yes.”
“And the forged witness signature?”
“She says she never signed it.”
“I believe her.”
The words surprised me as I said them.
Samantha heard it too.
“Do you?”
“I believe that part.”
“Good distinction.”
“What about the crash?”
There was a pause.
“Kayla remembered something new.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“Before she picked up the twins, Silas called her.”
I stood again.
“When?”
“About twenty minutes before pickup.”
“From his cell?”
“A company phone.”
“What did he say?”
“He told her your car had broken down.”
I gripped the back of a chair.
Claire saw my face.
“What?”
I held up a hand.
Samantha continued.
“He asked Kayla to pick up Rose and Owen using his SUV.”
The kitchen disappeared around me.
“What did she say?”
“She said she had her own car.”
“He insisted.”
“Why?”
“He told her his SUV was safer in the rain.”
I closed my eyes.
The brakes.
The module.
The route.
All of it tightened.
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“He knew she would have them.”
Samantha did not answer immediately.
“Based on Kayla’s statement, yes.”
Something in me snapped loose.
Not grief.
Grief stayed.
Something else.
The last refuge I had accidentally given him.
The idea that Rose and Owen had died because his plan had gone wrong.
That maybe, somewhere beneath everything he had done, he had never meant for them to be inside that vehicle.
Gone.
He had put them there.
Maybe not to kill them.
Maybe because he thought the failure would happen later.
Maybe because he believed he could control timing.
It no longer mattered in the way I wanted it to matter.
“He sent them into that car.”
“Yes.”
Claire came closer.
“What happened?”
I could not make my mouth work.
She took the phone from my hand.
“Samantha?”
She listened.
Her face changed.
Then she sat beside me.
“Oh.”
That was all she said.
Oh.
Sometimes a single syllable can carry the full weight of a family collapsing.
I stood abruptly.
“I need to see Kayla.”
Claire looked up.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Samantha’s voice came through the phone.
“No.”
I picked it up again.
“You don’t get to decide.”
“Miller asked for space.”
“He’s already interviewed her.”
“She’s nineteen and traumatized.”
“So am I.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
Samantha went quiet.
I breathed hard through my nose.
“Can she choose?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Then ask her.”
“I can ask Miller to pass the request.”
“Do that.”
“Evelyn.”
“What?”
“Be prepared for her to say no.”
That possibility hurt more than I expected.
“Fine.”
We ended the call.
The coffee had finished brewing.
Claire poured two cups.
Neither of us drank.
At eight thirty, Samantha called back.
“Kayla agreed.”
My knees weakened.
“When?”
“Eleven.”
“Where?”
“Not county.”
“Where?”
“Her mother’s house.”
Claire looked at me.
“I’m coming.”
I almost argued.
Then I nodded.
We drove across town in silence.
Kayla’s mother lived in a narrow brick duplex near the community college.
There was a bicycle chained to the porch railing.
A blue recycling bin had tipped onto its side.
Someone had put it back upright but left three soda cans rolling near the curb.
Ordinary house.
Ordinary street.
That made it worse.
Samantha met us outside.
“Miller is inside.”
“Why?”
“Because Kayla asked him to stay.”
I nodded.
“She can do that.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“Her mother is furious.”
“At me?”
“At everyone.”
Fair.
Mrs. Mercer opened the door before we knocked.
She was small, gray-haired, and looked as though she had not slept in weeks.
Her eyes went straight to mine.
I expected anger.
Instead, she stepped aside.
May you like
“She’s in the dining room.”
“Thank you.”
