Chương 10
They were odd.
Not long.
Just unnatural.
Each sentence began cleanly.
Too cleanly.
My mother stared at the phone.
“I’ve said all of those things.”
“When?”
“Not together.”
Vanessa looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“I told Blake this morning that Daniel shut the accounts down.”
She pointed toward my father.
“I told Thomas yesterday that he was asking questions.”
Then toward me.
“And I told Vanessa last week that Eleanor might have found something.”
A chill moved across my shoulders.
Martin stopped breathing for a second.
“You think someone stitched your voice together.”
“I don’t know what I think.”
My father spoke from the chair.
“Where’s Blake?”
Vanessa pulled out her phone.
“At home, supposedly.”
“Call him.”
“I already called him before Daniel got here.”
“Call again.”
She did.
Straight to voicemail.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
I asked.
“He never sends me to voicemail.”
“Maybe he’s driving.”
“He uses Bluetooth.”
“Vanessa.”
“I know how he drives.”
She called again.
Voicemail.
Then she opened a location-sharing app.
Her thumb stopped.
“What?”
“His location is off.”
“When did he turn it off?”
“I don’t know.”
Martin looked at me.
“Philip knows about the audit.”
“I know.”
His expression sharpened.
“How?”
“Blake called him this morning.”
Martin muttered something under his breath.
My father caught it.
“Say it.”
Martin rubbed the back of his neck.
“Philip has been pushing Blake for months.”
“For what?”
“Money.”
Vanessa looked up.
“What money?”
“Philip says Blake owes him.”
Her face hardened.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Martin watched her.
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“How much debt does Blake have?”
“I don’t know.”
“Personal credit lines?”
“I don’t know.”
“Private loans?”
“I said I don’t know.”
My father closed his eyes.
Vanessa’s anger collapsed almost as quickly as it had risen.
She sat on the bottom stair.
“I don’t know.”
Her voice had changed.
No performance.
No sharpness.
“I stopped looking at our statements after the renovation started.”
Nobody spoke.
She stared at her wedding ring.
“He said he had it handled.”
I thought of Blake folding the coffee sleeve between his fingers.
“I believed him because I needed to.”
My mother sat beside her.
Vanessa did not move away.
For one strange moment, they looked less like conspirators and more like two frightened women discovering how much room they had given other people to lie.
My phone rang.
Marcus.
I answered immediately.
“Tell me you found something good.”
“I found something clear.”
“That’s better.”
“Access logs show Martin entered Whitmore headquarters at 1:57 a.m. on March fourteenth.”
Martin closed his eyes.
“That’s true.”
Marcus continued.
“He left at 3:06.”
“What about the approval using my credentials?”
“2:13.”
“Martin admitted it.”
“I’m glad.”
There was no triumph in Marcus’s voice.
“There’s another login at 2:26.”
“Whose?”
“Vanessa’s.”
Every head turned toward her.
She stood.
“No.”
Marcus heard her.
“Vanessa is there?”
“Yes.”
“I did not log in.”
“Her account did.”
“I was asleep.”
“Can you prove that?”
She stared at me.
“I was at the hospital.”
My father opened his eyes.
She looked at him.
“Dad was admitted that night.”
I remembered.
She was right.
Vanessa had stayed at the hospital until after three.
I had seen her there.
Marcus paused.
“Then we have a second credential compromise.”
Martin looked suddenly alarmed.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“The finance office wasn’t empty when I got there.”
“Who was there?”
“Blake.”
Vanessa’s face emptied.
Martin continued.
“He said he was waiting for me because Philip needed an invoice approved.”
“You never told me that,” she whispered.
Martin looked at her.
“I thought you knew.”
Her phone buzzed.
A text appeared.
She read it and made a sound I had never heard from her before.
Not a cry.
Something smaller.
I stepped toward her.
“What is it?”
She handed me the phone.
The message was from Blake.
I’m sorry.
Below it was a photograph.
Blake’s wedding ring sat on the dashboard of his car.
Behind it, through the windshield, I could see the blue sign for Logan Airport.
Vanessa stared at the photograph as if the ring itself had betrayed her.
“Call him,” my father said.
She did.
Voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
She typed with both thumbs, erased the message, typed another, erased that too.
Finally she sent two words.
Where are you?
The delivery status changed immediately.
Read.
No answer.
My mother reached for Vanessa’s arm.
Vanessa pulled away.
“Don’t.”
Patricia’s hand fell.
“I was just—”
“I know.”
Vanessa stood and walked toward the dining room.
Nobody followed her for several seconds.
Then my father said, “Daniel.”
“I’m going.”
Vanessa was standing beside the same table where she had shoved me the night before.
The dishes had been cleared, but one wine stain remained near my mother’s place.
She pressed both palms against the back of a chair.
“Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That Blake was in the office that night.”
“No.”
“You saw me at the hospital.”
“Yes.”
“So you know I wasn’t using that account.”
“I know where you were.”
She laughed without humor.
“Congratulations.”
“Vanessa.”
“I spent three years telling everyone you didn’t care.”
I said nothing.
She looked at me.
“You know that, right?”
“Yes.”
“I told Mom you only showed up when there were decisions to make.”
“I know.”
“I told Dad you liked being the responsible one because it made the rest of us look stupid.”
“That one was creative.”
She almost smiled.
Then her mouth collapsed.
“I thought Blake was protecting me.”
“Maybe he thought he was.”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying right before admitting they lied.”
Her phone buzzed.
She looked down so fast I thought she might drop it.
Another message from Blake.
Don’t come to the airport.
Vanessa read it aloud.
My father had entered the doorway behind us.
“Then we go to the airport,” he said.
“No,” I said.
Three heads turned toward me.
“Blake is not a suitcase we can retrieve from baggage claim.”
“He’s running,” Vanessa said.
“Maybe.”
May you like
“What else does that picture mean?”
“It means he wants us to think he’s at Logan.”
