Chương 9
“Go.”
“The instructions I received about Grace did not come directly from your mother at first.”
“Who sent them?”
“Your family office.”
“Whose account?”
“Yours.”
I stood.
“What?”
“Your email credentials authorized the security request.”
“I didn’t send anything.”
“I know that now.”
“What did the request say?”
“That Mrs. Hale was undergoing an acute psychiatric episode related to late pregnancy, had threatened self-harm, and was not to leave the estate without medical clearance.”
I closed my eyes.
“Who had access to my account?”
“Your executive assistant, probably your mother, maybe IT.”
My assistant, Rebecca, had worked for me six years.
She knew my calendar, my passwords to half the systems I never bothered learning, and exactly how to phrase an email so it sounded like me.
“Was Rebecca involved?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
Victor was quiet.
Then he said, “I don’t work for you anymore.”
The answer surprised me.
“You quit?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
“Why?”
“Because apparently I spent twelve days helping imprison a pregnant woman while telling myself I was following a legitimate medical safety plan.”
He exhaled.
“I’m not very interested in another assignment tonight.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Fair.”
“I did send the police everything I have.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
“What else?”
“There were two versions of the security directive.”
I stopped pacing.
“What changed?”
“The first said we were supposed to prevent unauthorized visitors from contacting Grace.”
“And the second?”
“Prevent Grace from contacting anyone without approval.”
“Whose approval?”
“Dr. Mercer or Evelyn Hale.”
I looked through the narrow window in the hospital door.
Grace was holding the baby while Marisol sat beside the bed.
“That’s not a safety plan.”
“No.”
“When was the second order issued?”
“Eight days ago.”
Four days after Grace had been locked inside the room.
“Who sent it?”
“The same account.”
Mine.
I ended the call and immediately dialed Rebecca.
She answered on the fifth ring.
“Daniel?”
She sounded like she had been crying.
“Did you use my email to issue security orders concerning Grace?”
Silence.
“Rebecca.”
“I can explain.”
My stomach dropped.
“Everybody can explain tonight.”
“I didn’t know they were locking her in.”
“Did you send the order?”
“My mother called me.”
“My mother?”
“No.”
Rebecca inhaled sharply.
“Your mother.”
“Evelyn.”
“Yes.”
“She said you were unreachable and Grace was having some kind of breakdown.”
“Why use my email?”
“She said security wouldn’t act quickly enough without your authorization.”
“And you believed her?”
“I believed you knew.”
“How?”
Another silence.
“She forwarded me a message.”
“From who?”
“From you.”
I closed my eyes.
“What did it say?”
“That you couldn’t get away, you trusted Evelyn to handle Grace, and I should cooperate with whatever she needed until you returned.”
“I never wrote that.”
“I know.”
“You know now.”
Her voice cracked.
“Yes.”
“When did you know?”
“Tonight.”
“How?”
“Your mother called me after you came home.”
The hallway suddenly seemed too quiet.
“What did she ask you to do?”
Rebecca began crying in earnest now, but I felt no patience for it.
“She wanted me to delete archived correspondence.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did you delete anything before tonight?”
“No.”
“Do not touch your computer.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not answer another call from my mother.”
“Okay.”
“State police may contact you.”
“I figured.”
I almost hung up.
Then Rebecca said, “Daniel.”
“What?”
“There’s something else.”
I waited.
“She asked me three weeks ago to prepare a draft separation agreement.”
My throat tightened.
“For me and Grace?”
“Yes.”
“On whose instruction?”
“She said yours.”
“Did she send it to Grace?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you prepare it?”
“Yes.”
The answer was barely audible.
I looked through the glass again.
Grace had turned toward the window.
Our eyes met.
She could not hear me, but something in my face must have changed.
She looked away.
Rebecca said, “I’m sorry.”
I ended the call.
Marisol came out several minutes later.
“She wants you back in.”
I entered.
Grace was feeding our son.
The sight stopped me at the doorway.
She looked exhausted beyond anything I had words for.
“What happened?”
I sat carefully in the chair beside the bed.
“My mother had my assistant prepare separation papers three weeks ago.”
Grace went completely still.
“She showed them to me.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“Six days ago.”
“She said I had signed them?”
“No.”
Grace looked down at the baby.
“She said you would when you came back.”
“What did they say?”
“That you wanted a divorce, full financial support for me, and shared custody once the baby was born.”
The room went cold.
“Shared custody?”
Grace’s eyes lifted.
“She told me if I cooperated, everything could stay private.”
I stared at her.
“And if you didn’t?”
“She said your lawyers would argue I was unstable.”
Marisol remained by the wall, silent.
Grace adjusted the blanket beneath our son’s cheek.
“She had the room.”
Her voice was quiet.
“She had Mercer.”
“She had the fake messages.”
“She had security records saying I was dangerous.”
Her hand trembled.
“She wasn’t just trying to make me leave you.”
The thought finished itself before she said it.
“She was building evidence.”
Grace nodded.
I felt sick.
A soft knock came at the door.
A state police detective stepped inside.
He introduced himself as Aaron Patel.
He asked whether Grace felt able to speak.
“For five minutes.”
“That’s enough.”
He pulled a chair near the wall rather than the bed.
“We secured the west-wing room and the lake house.”
Grace watched him carefully.
“We also recovered a medication log.”
Her grip tightened on the baby.
“What medication?”
Patel looked at Marisol, then back at Grace.
“I’d rather let the medical team interpret the entries.”
“Who signed them?”
“Several entries carry Dr. Mercer’s initials.”
My jaw tightened.
“And the others?”
“One set appears to have been signed by a household employee named Nora Bell.”
Grace frowned.
“The night nurse.”
“You remember her?”
“She cried once.”
Patel waited.
May you like
Grace looked at him.
“She thought I was asleep.”
