Chương 10
Rachel gripped the table.
I asked, “Alive?”
Warren nodded.
“Yes.”
Relief and fear arrived together.
Then he added, “He wasn’t alone.”
Warren looked at Ethan before answering.
“There was a woman with him.”
Rachel’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
“Melissa?”
“No.”
My mind went somewhere I refused to follow.
“Who?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
Warren hesitated.
“Approximately sixty.”
I let out a breath I had not realized I was holding.
That made no sense either, but at least the impossible answer had not come.
“Was she being held?”
“That’s unclear.”
“Was Bell arrested?”
“He was detained.”
“For what?”
“Right now, obstruction and suspected unlawful confinement related to Ms. Carter.”
“Suspected?”
“We still need statements and evidence.”
I laughed once, without humor.
“You have a woman who spent six days inside his old house.”
“We have a woman who says she was trapped inside your house.”
The correction was deliberate.
Rachel stepped in.
“Can we not do this right now?”
Warren ignored her.
“Mr. Hale, I need you to understand something.”
“I understand plenty.”
“No.”
His voice stayed level.
“You understand what this feels like.”
I stared at him.
“That is not the same as understanding what happened.”
I hated him for being careful.
Then I hated myself because Dr. Mitchell had said almost the same thing about certainty.
Warren’s phone vibrated again.
He glanced at it and excused himself to the porch.
The door closed behind him.
For several seconds, nobody said anything.
Mark finally asked, “Who do we know who’s sixty?”
Rachel looked at him.
“That’s your contribution?”
“I’m nervous.”
“I can tell.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“I say stupid things when I’m nervous.”
“You say stupid things when you’re relaxed too.”
“Good.”
He nodded.
“Consistency.”
The joke should not have worked.
It did.
Rachel laughed once and then immediately covered her face.
The sound turned into crying.
Not dramatic crying.
Just sudden, angry tears she seemed embarrassed to have produced.
Mark went to her.
She waved him away.
“I’m fine.”
He stopped.
“That’s convincing.”
“Not now.”
Ethan wandered back from the wall and held his rabbit out to me.
I took it because I understood the request.
The rabbit’s ear was wet.
I wiped it on my jeans and handed it back.
That was all he wanted.
No hidden room.
No dead mother.
No forty-seven missing minutes.
Just a dry rabbit.
I envied him.
Warren came back inside.
His expression had changed.
“Bell is asking for an attorney.”
“Good for him.”
“He also requested to speak with you.”
Rachel said, “Absolutely not.”
Warren looked at her.
“I didn’t say we were arranging it.”
“What does he want?”
“He won’t say.”
“Then I’ll go.”
Rachel turned on me.
“No.”
“I need answers.”
“You need a lawyer.”
“I’m not under arrest.”
“That is not the point.”
Mark said quietly, “She’s right.”
I looked at him.
He lifted both hands.
“I’m not getting between siblings.”
“You just did.”
“Yeah.”
He lowered them.
“Bad call.”
Warren said, “I would strongly advise against direct contact tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because Bell may be trying to influence your statement.”
“Or tell me something.”
“Those are not mutually exclusive.”
I paced once across the kitchen.
Ethan followed me because he thought we were going somewhere.
I stopped.
He bumped into my leg and looked offended.
“Sorry.”
He slapped my knee.
I picked him up.
Warren watched us.
“Do you know a woman named Evelyn Bell?”
“No.”
Rachel shook her head.
Mark did too.
“Arthur’s wife?”
“His sister.”
“Is that who was with him?”
“Yes.”
“What does she have to do with this?”
“We’re finding out.”
“Was she ever employed at St. Vincent’s?”
Warren’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Yes.”
The answer landed harder than I expected.
“What did she do?”
“Nurse.”
Rachel whispered, “Of course.”
Warren continued.
“Labor and delivery.”
The kitchen seemed to shrink around us.
I looked at the clock.
9:23.
For once, fourteen minutes had passed without Ethan reacting to anything.
“What years?”
“She retired eighteen months ago.”
“So she was there when Claire died.”
“Yes.”
“Was she working that day?”
“We’re checking.”
“Warren.”
He held my gaze.
“Yes.”
Something in the answer told me he already knew.
“You’re checking because you think she was.”
He did not reply.
“That’s what this is.”
“I’m not discussing unverified personnel records.”
“You just told me she was a labor-and-delivery nurse.”
“That part is verified.”
I put Ethan down before my anger traveled into the arm holding him.
He toddled toward Rachel.
She lifted him automatically.
I said, “Did Evelyn Bell take my wife?”
Warren’s jaw tightened.
“We do not know.”
“Did she take my son?”
“We do not know.”
“Did Arthur move things from the hospital into my house?”
“We do not know.”
“Then what do you know?”
Rachel said, “Dan.”
“No.”
I pointed toward Warren.
“He keeps standing in rooms telling me what he doesn’t know.”
Warren let me finish.
Then he said, “I know Arthur Bell had keys to restricted maintenance areas at St. Vincent’s.”
I stopped.
“I know he supervised renovation work in the old maternity wing.”
Nobody moved.
“I know Evelyn Bell was assigned to postpartum recovery the afternoon your wife delivered.”
The room went silent.
“And I know,” Warren continued, “that the hidden room beneath your house contains equipment with hospital inventory markings.”
Rachel sat down slowly.
I asked, “St. Vincent’s?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“We’re tracing serial numbers.”
“They stole it?”
“Possibly.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
I almost snapped again.
Then Warren added, “But the room was not built recently.”
“What?”
“Preliminary construction suggests the underground corridor and room are decades old.”
“That house was built in fifty-eight.”
“The corridor may be original or close to it.”
“So Arthur didn’t build it for Claire.”
“Probably not.”
The answer disturbed me in a different way.
Something created long before my wife existed had somehow become tangled with the day she died.
Warren continued.
“We found layers of paint in that room.”
May you like
“Meaning?”
“The flowers appear to have been repainted more than once.”
