Chương 13
Chloe looked up.
“What part?”
Park hesitated.
“One says she saw Sylvia pulling you backward by the hair.”
The room changed.
Chloe’s mouth opened.
“She saw it?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I’m not giving you her name yet.”
“Why didn’t she help?”
The question came out small.
Park’s expression softened.
“She says she froze.”
Chloe stared at her.
“She watched?”
“She says she saw only a few seconds from the hallway, then Marcus yelled at staff to leave the room.”
“And she left.”
“Yes.”
Chloe turned away.
I could feel anger rising in me again, but it was not clean anger.
It had edges of recognition.
How many people had seen enough of Chloe’s marriage to suspect something and chosen convenience instead?
Including me.
Park seemed to understand the silence.
“The witness came forward this morning.”
“After police arrived.”
“Yes.”
“After it was safe.”
“Yes.”
Chloe’s mouth hardened.
Park did not defend the witness.
“She is also the person who reported Sylvia moving the file box.”
That caught my attention.
“The same caterer?”
“Yes.”
“So she stayed observant even after being told to leave.”
“Apparently.”
“What else did she see?”
“Enough that we are still talking to her.”
Park left before I could press.
Chloe watched the curtain sway behind her.
“I hate her.”
“Park?”
“The caterer.”
I sat down.
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You don’t know her.”
“She watched Sylvia drag me by my hair.”
“Yes.”
“And walked away.”
“Yes.”
“I hate her.”
“All right.”
Chloe looked at me, expecting argument.
I gave her none.
She wiped her face.
“I would have helped.”
“Maybe.”
Her expression sharpened.
“You don’t think I would?”
“I think we imagine ourselves braver after danger has passed.”
“That sounds like an excuse.”
“No.”
I looked at my hands.
“It sounds like experience.”
She studied me.
“Did you ever freeze?”
The question pulled something old and unwelcome from memory.
A courthouse hallway.
A woman screaming at her husband.
Two marshals twenty yards away.
Me standing with a case file against my chest while deciding whether it was a domestic argument or something requiring intervention.
By the time I moved, one marshal had already reached them.
Nothing catastrophic had happened.
I had still remembered those three seconds for twenty years.
“Yes.”
Chloe waited.
“I hated myself afterward.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing like this.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“A man grabbed his wife hard enough to leave marks.”
“And you saw?”
“Yes.”
“Did you help?”
“Eventually.”
“Eventually.”
“I called a marshal.”
“Not immediately.”
“No.”
She looked toward the wall.
“That’s different.”
“Not as different as I would like.”
We sat in silence.
A few minutes later, Chloe said, “I still hate her.”
“That’s allowed.”
The nurse returned with discharge instructions pending one more neurological check.
She explained rest, warning signs, medication, and the need for someone to stay with Chloe.
“That’s me,” I said.
The nurse looked at Chloe.
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
The question mattered.
I appreciated that she asked it.
Rachel arrived forty-five minutes later wearing dark jeans, a wool coat, and no makeup.
She was shorter than I remembered and somehow more formidable.
Her black hair had gone mostly silver at the temples.
She hugged me once, briefly.
“You look old.”
“So do you.”
“Good.”
Then she went directly to Chloe.
“I’m Rachel.”
“I know.”
“That already worries me.”
“My mother told me you beat her.”
Rachel glanced at me.
“Only once?”
“Once that she admits.”
“That sounds more accurate.”
Chloe almost smiled.
Rachel’s expression softened.
“I’m sorry about what happened to you.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m also going to be annoyingly precise.”
“Apparently that’s contagious.”
“I trained your mother badly.”
“You two are going to enjoy this too much.”
“No one is enjoying anything.”
Rachel pulled up a chair.
“Here’s what I need first.”
She looked at me.
“Eleanor, out.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Attorney-client privilege.”
“I know what it is.”
“Then demonstrate.”
Chloe covered her mouth to hide a smile.
I stood.
“Traitor.”
“She works for me now.”
“That changed fast.”
Rachel pointed toward the hallway.
“Go find coffee.”
“I already had some.”
“Find better coffee.”
The curtain closed behind me.
For the first time since Marcus’s call, I had nothing useful to do.
I walked to the cafeteria.
It was mostly empty.
A television above the drink station showed a parade in New York with giant balloons floating between buildings.
I bought coffee that was only marginally better than the emergency department version and a turkey sandwich wrapped in plastic.
The cashier wore reindeer earrings despite the calendar.
“Long morning?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Hospital?”
“Yes.”
She nodded as though that explained all categories of human suffering.
“My sister’s upstairs too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She’s having a baby.”
“Oh.”
The cashier smiled.
“So I’m not.”
I paid.
At a corner table, I opened the sandwich and discovered mustard on only one side.
I spent several seconds spreading it with a plastic knife.
It was a ridiculous task.
I was grateful for it.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I remembered the threat.
I answered without speaking.
A woman breathed on the other end.
“Eleanor?”
I recognized the voice from somewhere.
“Yes.”
“This is Vanessa Cole.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“How did you get my number?”
“Marcus’s phone.”
“Why are you calling me?”
“Because I need you to tell the police something.”
“You should tell them yourself.”
“They won’t let me leave.”
“Then you are already in the correct location.”
“Please.”
Her voice cracked.
Not theatrically.
Not beautifully.
It sounded like someone trying not to vomit.
“I didn’t hurt Chloe.”
I said nothing.
“I swear to you.”
“You were in the house.”
“Yes.”
“Last night?”
“Yes.”
“While they kept her there?”
“I didn’t know at first.”
“At first.”
“She was upstairs.”
“And then?”
“I heard yelling.”
“What did you do?”
Vanessa began crying quietly.
“I left.”
I looked at the untouched half of my sandwich.
“You left.”
“I panicked.”
May you like
“Then why were you back this morning?”
“Sylvia called me.”
