Chương 6
“I’ll arrange independent counsel through the employee legal fund,” he said. “No one from the family will select the attorney.”
“I said no.”
“You said no to me providing one. This is a benefit you already had. Apparently another detail I remembered for parties and forgot when it mattered.”
She let him make the call.
The attorney assigned to Marta was a woman named Judith Klein who wore red reading glasses and spoke as though every unnecessary word cost money.
Judith reviewed the employment documents the next morning.
“You’re not under arrest,” she said.
“I know.”
“You could face questions about false business records, obstruction, or whether the payment influenced your statement. I’m not saying you will. I’m saying we proceed as if someone hostile will choose the ugliest interpretation.”
“They should.”
“No. That is guilt talking, and guilt is a poor substitute for legal analysis.”
“I signed it.”
“Did you knowingly certify that no drives existed?”
“I didn’t see any.”
“Did you know the statement would be used to accuse Clare Mercer?”
“No.”
“Did you suspect?”
Marta took too long.
Judith removed her glasses.
“That pause is why I’m here.”
They spent three hours preparing.
At the precinct, Detective Cho listened while Marta described Clare’s dismissal, Vivienne’s perfume in the archive, Calvin’s control of the cameras, and the retention payment.
Marta also described something she had not allowed herself to remember fully.
On the night before Clare was fired, Marta had been cleaning the second-floor gallery when she heard voices in the archive.
Clare said, “Restricted funds cannot become bridge loans because you call them temporary.”
Vivienne answered too quietly for Marta to understand.
Then Clare said, “Richard has to know.”
Vivienne’s response came clearly.
“Richard has to remain able to deny knowing.”
Marta had moved away before the door opened.
She had not told Daniel. She had not told the auditors. She had not told anyone.
Cho’s expression did not change.
“Why didn’t you report it?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of losing your job?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
Marta thought about the mansion at night, about staff members who disappeared from schedules after complaints, about Calvin’s silver tin clicking open during disciplinary meetings.
“Yes.”
“Of what?”
“Of becoming a person nobody believed.”
Cho wrote the sentence down.
By the time Marta returned to the estate, reporters had learned her name. A photograph from the hospital showed her entering with Richard. Online comments called her a whistleblower, an accomplice, a hero, a servant, a liar, and an illegal immigrant, though she had been born in New Jersey.
Someone posted the address of the cottage.
Gerald Bell called again.
“For your safety, the board believes you should relocate.”
“The board wants me off the property.”
“The cottage is becoming a security concern.”
“It became a security concern when a child was locked behind a mirror.”
“Marta, please.”
“When do you want me gone?”
“Seventy-two hours.”
“My employment agreement says thirty days.”
“You’re suspended, not terminated.”
“Then I’m still entitled to housing.”
Bell lowered his voice.
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Did you tell Clare that?”
He hung up.
Marta packed Daniel’s coat first.
She placed it in a garment bag, then took it out because garment bags made clothes look as though their owners might return. She folded it into a box with his old radio, three paperbacks, and a ceramic bowl he had repaired badly with hardware-store glue.
On the second day, she visited Eli.
He and Nora were staying in a confidential apartment arranged through the county. Priya remained during the visit, seated near the kitchen with her owl tote at her feet.
Eli wore clean clothes but looked smaller without the dust. A fading bruise curved below his left eye. He had lined crackers along the edge of the table and became upset when Nora moved one.
Marta brought no gift. She had considered a stuffed animal and rejected it. She had considered a book and realized she did not know what he liked.
Instead, she brought a photograph.
It showed Clare at a foundation picnic three years earlier. She stood behind a folding table, holding a paper plate and squinting into the sun. Eli, seven then, had climbed onto her back. His arms circled her neck.
Marta had found the photograph in an old staff newsletter.
Eli took it without thanking her.
“You lied,” he said.
“Yes.”
Priya looked up but did not interrupt.
“You said you didn’t know Mom.”
“I said I didn’t know you.”
“You made it sound like you didn’t know her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was ashamed.”
“Of her?”
“Of me.”
Eli studied the photograph.
“She said you were scared of everything.”
Marta almost smiled.
“That sounds like her.”
“She said you watched people get hurt and then polished what they touched.”
Nora closed her eyes.
“Eli.”
“It’s what she said.”
Marta felt the sentence enter her slowly.
“Your mother was angry with me.”
“She was right.”
“Yes.”
He placed the photograph face down.
“Did you help her take my backpack?”
“No.”
“Did you tell them about the fox?”
“The detective knows.”
“The fox has a broken paw.”
“Was something inside it?”
He looked toward Priya.
She nodded once, allowing him to answer.
“My mom cut the seam. She put a little black card in it.”
“A memory card?”
“I don’t know. Smaller than a stamp.”
“What was on it?”
“She said proof.”
“Did you see it?”
“No.”
“Did your aunt?”
Nora shook her head.
“Clare didn’t tell me until the week before she died. She said if anyone came asking, I should know nothing. She was very good at making that true.”
Eli turned the photograph over again.
“The blue woman knew.”
“How?” Marta asked.
“She asked where the fox was before she asked my name.”
The room became quiet.
“Tell me what happened,” Marta said.
Priya raised a hand. “Only if he wants to.”
May you like
Eli arranged the crackers into a straighter line.
“The tablet made a sound after school. It was Mom’s email. Somebody wrote that Mr. Hale was ready to listen. They knew about the fox. They said bring it.”
