Chương 12
“In my cloud account.”
“The same one connected to the LLC?”
“No.”
“Can you access it now?”
“Yes.”
“Then send them.”
Vanessa hesitated.
“To who?”
Ruiz gave her an address.
“I need the original files if possible, not screenshots only.”
“I have exports.”
“Send everything.”
“What happens to me if I do?”
Ruiz looked at me before answering.
“That depends on what you did.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only honest one.”
Vanessa went quiet again.
Then Ethan’s phone chimed.
“Something came in,” he said.
Ruiz checked her own device.
“So did mine.”
Miriam said, “Forward it to me.”
Ruiz looked toward my phone.
“No.”
Miriam bristled.
“I am counsel.”
“You are also the mother of a potential suspect or witness.”
The words landed hard.
Miriam did not answer.
I felt a strange, painful sympathy for her.
Not enough to forgive anything.
Enough to understand the shape of the blow.
For years she had been the person who knew what to do next.
Now she was trapped on the wrong side of a fact she could not organize.
Vanessa whispered, “Mom?”
Miriam’s breathing changed.
Nobody else moved.
“Mom, are you there?”
Miriam answered after several seconds.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
Her voice was low.
“Do not do that now.”
“I didn’t mean for this.”
“That is not the same as not doing it.”
Vanessa began to cry again.
“I thought Daniel just wanted the sale.”
“You broke into Claire’s communications.”
“I know.”
“You concealed information from me.”
“I know.”
“You used the professional access I helped you obtain.”
“I know.”
Miriam’s voice cracked for the first time.
“And you did it while asking me to trust you again.”
Vanessa did not answer.
Miriam inhaled slowly.
“Send the evidence.”
“I did.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
“Then do exactly what the officer tells you.”
Ruiz said, “First, tell me where you are.”
Another silence.
Vanessa whispered, “I’m scared.”
“So is Claire.”
“I know.”
“Then give me an address.”
A muffled sound came through the phone.
Not speech.
A door, maybe.
Vanessa stopped breathing for a second.
“Vanessa?” Ruiz said.
No answer.
Then the line went dead.
Ethan looked at the screen.
“She hung up.”
Ruiz was already dialing.
No answer.
She called again.
Voicemail.
“Can you trace it?” Ethan asked.
“Not instantly from this room.”
“She could be in danger.”
“Yes.”
Ruiz stepped toward the door and spoke quickly into her radio.
I turned to Miriam.
“Where does Vanessa live?”
“North Harbor.”
“Address?”
Miriam gave it.
Ruiz repeated it into her radio and left the room.
Another contraction started.
This one was different.
The pressure came with a sudden downward force that made me gasp.
“Something changed.”
Teresa looked at Patel.
He was already pulling on gloves.
“What changed?”
“Pressure.”
“Where?”
“Low.”
Patel examined me again.
His expression tightened.
“Six centimeters.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“You said four less than an hour ago.”
“I know.”
“What happened to the medication?”
“Sometimes labor continues despite it.”
The fetal monitor dipped again.
I stared at the numbers.
“Why is her heart rate dropping?”
“Contractions can temporarily reduce blood flow.”
“Is she getting enough oxygen?”
“Right now she’s recovering between contractions.”
“Right now.”
“I know you hate that phrase.”
“I do.”
“I’m still going to use it.”
Teresa adjusted my position.
“Turn onto your left side.”
I obeyed.
The monitor improved.
Patel watched for a full minute before relaxing slightly.
“We keep going.”
“How long?”
“No way to know.”
Ethan sat down beside me.
His face had gone pale.
“Do you want me to call Mom?”
“No.”
“She’s going to kill me if she finds out afterward.”
“She lives in Arizona.”
“She owns a phone.”
“I don’t want her flying across the country in the middle of the night.”
“She’ll do it anyway.”
“Then let me have two hours before she starts.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
His fingers found mine again.
The room quieted for a moment.
A nurse I had not met entered to replace an IV bag.
She asked what music I wanted.
I stared at her.
“Music?”
“Some patients like it.”
Ethan said, “She hates playlists during stressful situations.”
The nurse looked at him.
“That’s specific.”
“She once made us turn off Christmas music during a flat tire.”
“It was March.”
“It was still Christmas music.”
The nurse smiled awkwardly.
“No music, then.”
“No music,” I said.
She left.
I almost laughed.
Then I started crying.
There was no warning.
No graceful buildup.
Tears simply spilled down my face.
Ethan looked alarmed.
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s concerning.”
“Shut up.”
He handed me a tissue.
I wiped my face.
“I chose him.”
Ethan’s expression changed.
“Claire.”
“I chose Daniel over everyone who warned me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Grandma warned me.”
“She distrusted every man under sixty.”
“She was right about this one.”
“That doesn’t make her right about all of them.”
“I gave him access.”
“You married him.”
“I put him in the succession plan.”
“You trusted your husband.”
“I defended him.”
Ethan looked down at our joined hands.
“So did I.”
I looked at him.
“You hated him.”
“I disliked him.”
“You threatened to put him through a wall.”
“That was one Thanksgiving.”
“Again with Thanksgiving.”
“He called you spoiled.”
“He was drunk.”
“That made it worse.”
A weak laugh escaped me.
Ethan’s mouth tightened.
“I still let him back into my house.”
“You did that for me.”
“Exactly.”
We sat quietly for a few seconds.
Then he said, “Trusting somebody is not the same thing as helping them betray you.”
I closed my eyes.
I wanted to believe him.
I did not yet.
My phone chimed.
Miriam spoke.
“The board meeting is starting.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“At almost midnight?”
“Emergency meetings rarely respect bedtime.”
“Do they have quorum?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Barbara, Leon Park, and me in my trustee capacity.”
I blinked.
“Barbara left the yoga retreat?”
“She apparently keeps a second phone in her car.”
“That is the most Barbara thing I have ever heard.”
May you like
Miriam almost laughed.
Then her voice became professional again.
