Chương 3
“I’m afraid you’re about to let a traumatized child be manipulated by a woman who abandoned her.”
Rachel flinched.
Lily’s hand tightened.
Charles did not raise his voice.
“Security office.”
The gallery manager looked relieved to have an instruction.
“This way.”
Vanessa followed.
Charles faced her.
“No.”
Her eyes widened.
“I’m your sister.”
“And she’s my wife.”
“You don’t even know if—”
“I said no.”
Something ugly crossed Vanessa’s face.
It was gone quickly, but Charles saw it.
Rachel did too.
For the first time since the bracelet appeared, she seemed less frightened.
Not safe.
Simply less alone in what she had seen.
Charles took Lily’s hand.
Then, after a moment, Rachel took the other.
They walked through the gallery together.
Guests moved aside.
Nobody spoke to them.
The marble floor reflected the three of them in broken fragments beneath their feet.
Behind them, Vanessa remained beside a portrait of Charles’s grandfather, surrounded by people pretending not to stare.
The security office was smaller than Charles expected.
Two desks. A wall of monitors. A refrigerator humming beneath a shelf of incident binders. Someone had abandoned a paper cup of coffee near a keyboard, and the stale burnt smell made Rachel stop in the doorway.
Charles noticed.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
But she had gone pale.
The security supervisor offered his chair.
Rachel refused it.
Lily climbed into it instead and spun once before Charles stopped the chair with his hand.
“Not now.”
“Sorry.”
The ordinary apology nearly undid him.
He crouched and straightened her braid because one ribbon had slipped loose.
His fingers were clumsy.
Rachel watched.
Charles stood.
The gallery manager had remained by the door.
“Can we have the room?”
The man hesitated.
“There are surveillance systems—”
“Keep them running. I’m not asking you to erase anything. I want whatever happened on the gallery floor preserved.”
Rachel looked at him sharply.
Charles met her eyes.
“I’m not making evidence disappear.”
A little of the tension left her shoulders.
The manager nodded.
“I’ll be outside.”
When the door closed, silence filled the room.
Charles took out his phone.
Rachel stared at it.
He stopped.
“Police?”
“No. I was going to call Dr. Mercer.”
Her expression changed.
Their family physician.
“She still practices?”
“Yes.”
Rachel almost smiled.
“She was seventy when we met.”
“She claims she was fifty-nine.”
“That woman has been fifty-nine for eight years.”
Lily looked between them.
“Who’s Dr. Mercer?”
Rachel answered automatically.
“The only doctor your father is scared of.”
Charles stared at her.
Rachel seemed to realize what she had said.
For several seconds, none of them moved.
Lily climbed out of the chair and wrapped herself around Rachel’s waist more carefully this time.
Rachel looked down at the top of her daughter’s head.
Her face folded.
Still she did not cry.
Her bruised hand settled on Lily’s back.
Charles turned away.
He pretended to inspect the security monitors until he could breathe normally.
On one screen Vanessa stood alone near the windows, speaking into her phone.
Charles watched her mouth move.
Rachel noticed.
“Who is she calling?”
“I don’t know.”
“You need to take her phone.”
“I can’t take her property.”
Rachel’s laugh was almost soundless.
“Still you.”
“What does that mean?”
“You want rules even when the room is on fire.”
Charles looked at her.
She rubbed her wrist.
“That wasn’t an insult.”
“It sounded like one.”
“It was mostly an observation.”
For a few seconds, the old rhythm returned.
He hated how much he wanted to cling to it.
“Rachel.”
Her gaze dropped.
“Where have you been?”
Lily lifted her face from Rachel’s uniform.
Rachel saw her.
“Not here.”
Charles understood.
He did not like it.
“Then Lily goes outside with someone we trust.”
“Who?”
He thought of Vanessa and felt ashamed that she had been the first name his mind offered.
Rachel saw that too.
“I’m staying,” Lily said.
Charles rubbed his forehead.
“Kiddo.”
“No.”
“Lily.”
“I found her.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“I found her when nobody else did.”
Charles sat down.
There were many forms of accusation. His daughter had discovered one that did not require anger.
“You did,” he said.
Lily’s face softened slightly.
Charles looked at Rachel.
“Give me one thing. Just one. Enough to know what I’m dealing with.”
Rachel glanced toward the camera in the corner.
“Is that recording sound?”
Charles did not know.
The security supervisor, called from outside, confirmed that the office camera recorded video but not audio.
Rachel remained wary.
Finally she removed her right glove.
The wrist beneath it was marked with bruises in different stages of healing. There were narrow abrasions around the base of her thumb.
Charles stood so suddenly his chair hit the wall.
Lily jumped.
Rachel pulled the glove back on.
“Don’t.”
“Who restrained you?”
She stared.
Charles heard his own wording and hated it.
Not who hurt you.
Who restrained you.
He had spent too much of his life in rooms where precise language mattered.
Rachel looked toward the door.
“A man named Eric Voss. Another one called Dean. I don’t know Dean’s last name.”
Charles searched his memory.
Nothing.
“Where?”
“A house outside New Hope.”
Pennsylvania.
His stomach tightened.
“Near where your car was found.”
“Yes.”
“Whose house?”
“I don’t know who owns it on paper.”
“Vanessa?”
Rachel hesitated.
“I never saw a deed.”
Charles breathed through his nose.
She noticed.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Decide the conclusion before we have proof.”
He almost laughed again.
“You’re telling me my sister had you imprisoned.”
“I’m telling you what happened to me. I’m not telling you what a prosecutor can prove.”
Lily watched them.
Rachel saw her and stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
The child frowned.
“For what?”
Rachel crouched again.
“For grown-up words.”
“I know what imprisoned means.”
Charles closed his eyes.
Of course she did.
Rachel took Lily’s hands.
“Can I ask you something?”
Lily nodded.
“Who told you I died?”
“Aunt Vanessa.”
“When?”
“After Christmas.”
Rachel flinched.
“Was Dad there?”
May you like
“No.”
Charles felt her glance toward him.
