Chương 7
“When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”
Ruth looked at him.
Nathan stopped attempting humor.
“What do we do?”
“We do not call Daniel.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were absolutely going to.”
Nathan looked away.
Ruth continued.
“We preserve everything. We verify the documents independently. We get your toxicology report. We request traffic cameras near the underpass. We find out how your vehicle got there. We retain criminal counsel before speaking further.”
“For me?”
“For everybody.”
Nathan looked at her.
“And Marissa Dawson?”
Ruth had already written down the name.
“I’ll find out who represents her.”
“She probably has a public defender.”
“Probably.”
Nathan watched her.
“You think she was framed.”
“I think you have enough information that assuming she wasn’t would be irresponsible.”
Nathan nodded.
That was more than he had done twenty-four hours earlier.
Ruth looked toward the hallway.
“Where is the boy?”
“He left.”
“He has nowhere to go?”
“He has Tasha.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Nathan stared at the ceiling.
“No.”
Ruth sighed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
“You’ve spent your adult life being very good at solving problems that fit on paper.”
Nathan looked at her.
“And?”
“And this one has an eleven-year-old standing in the middle of it.”
At seven sixteen in the morning, Nathan discharged himself against medical advice.
Ruth objected.
Nathan signed anyway.
They found Eli asleep in a plastic chair outside the vending machines.
His arms were folded over his chest.
A bag of pretzels lay unopened beside him.
Nathan stood there longer than necessary.
Ruth noticed.
“Wake him.”
Nathan did.
Eli opened his eyes instantly.
For half a second he looked terrified.
Then he saw Nathan.
“You okay?”
“Apparently I’m difficult to kill.”
Eli sat up.
“That wasn’t funny.”
“No.”
Nathan picked up the pretzels.
“You hungry?”
“No.”
His stomach growled.
Nathan handed him the bag.
Eli took it without comment.
They drove to Ruth’s office.
Tasha met them there with the prepaid phone and a backpack.
Inside the backpack were photocopies of invoices, a flash drive, Ray Pike’s handwritten notes, and an envelope addressed to Nathan.
Nathan recognized none of it.
He opened the envelope last.
The letter was four pages long.
Ray’s handwriting leaned sharply to the right.
Mr. Vale,
If you are reading this, I waited too long.
That is the first thing you should know about me.
I waited because I was afraid of losing my job. Then I waited because Lucas died and I was afraid the same people would come for me. Then I waited because every month that passed made admitting what I knew harder.
Cowardice grows interest.
Nathan stopped.
He read the sentence again.
Ruth watched but did not ask.
He continued.
Ray described Lucas arriving at the lake house unexpectedly.
He described Lucas copying files from Daniel’s laptop.
He described an argument in the boathouse.
He described seeing Caroline arrive ninety minutes later.
Nathan lowered the letter.
“Caroline was there.”
Ruth looked up.
“She told police she was home.”
“Are you certain?”
“I was home with her that evening.”
Nathan stopped.
“No.”
He looked at the date.
June 18.
He had been in Chicago.
He remembered now.
A merger dinner.
He had flown back the next morning.
Caroline had told him she spent the night at home.
He resumed reading.
Ray said he saw Caroline leave the boathouse with Daniel.
Lucas remained behind.
Twenty minutes later, Lucas asked Ray to hide the compass and the dock camera drive.
Ray did.
The following afternoon, Daniel returned alone and ordered the boathouse cameras removed permanently.
Three days later Lucas died.
Ray gave police no statement because no officer ever asked about the lake house.
The investigation focused on Lucas’s car.
The road.
His blood alcohol level.
The letter did not accuse Daniel or Caroline of murder.
Ray was careful.
He wrote only what he saw.
At the bottom of the final page:
I am sorry I let your son be dead before I decided my fear wasn’t more important than the truth.
Nathan put the paper down.
For a long time nobody spoke.
Tasha sat with one leg bouncing under the table.
Eli peeled the label off a water bottle.
Ruth read the letter.
Nathan walked to the window.
Morning traffic moved through the city below.
People carried coffee.
A delivery cyclist stopped at a red light and wiped rain from his glasses.
Nothing in the world looked changed.
Nathan hated that.
“Where is the dock camera drive?” Ruth asked.
Eli looked at her.
“In the bag.”
They all turned.
Eli reached into the backpack and removed a small hard drive wrapped in cloth.
Nathan stared at it.
“You had that the entire time?”
“Ray did.”
“Why didn’t you say?”
“You didn’t ask.”
Ruth laughed once despite herself.
Nathan did not.
Tasha connected the drive to an isolated laptop.
Most files were corrupted.
Some had been overwritten.
The surviving videos had no audio.
They watched June 18.
Lucas entered the boathouse at 8:43 p.m.
Daniel arrived at 9:01.
At 9:16, Caroline appeared.
Nathan leaned closer.
His wife wore a pale coat.
She entered carrying a handbag.
At 9:48 Daniel left.
Caroline remained.
At 10:07 Lucas came out alone.
He stood on the dock for almost five minutes.
Then he sat.
At 10:14 Caroline emerged.
She stood behind him.
They spoke.
No audio.
Lucas turned.
Caroline slapped him.
Nathan flinched.
Eli looked at him.
The video continued.
Lucas stood.
Caroline grabbed his arm.
He pulled away.
She nearly fell.
Lucas caught her.
Even in grainy footage, Nathan recognized his son’s movement.
Automatic.
Protective.
Stupidly kind.
Caroline steadied herself.
Then she pointed toward the house.
Lucas shook his head.
They argued for another minute.
At 10:18, Caroline walked away.
Lucas remained.
At 10:26 Ray appeared.
Lucas handed him something small.
The compass.
Nathan sat down.
The next file was from the following morning.
Daniel entered the boathouse.
He found the camera.
He stared directly into it.
May you like
Then the footage ended.
“That’s not murder,” Nathan said.
