Chương 6
Daniel sat between them.
For ten minutes, nobody discussed Rachel.
Lucy asked whether she could sleep in his room.
Noah said he wasn’t sleeping.
Daniel told him that was not how sleep worked.
Noah said, “I’m aware.”
Lucy leaned against Daniel’s arm.
The house was quiet except for the air conditioner and the distant movement of Elise somewhere beyond the locked door.
Eventually Daniel called the non-emergency number for the police department in the town listed on the photograph. He did not explain the entire story. He said he had reason to believe a missing family member was living at an address and asked whether officers could confirm that the residence existed and whether there had been recent incidents there.
The dispatcher told him they could not disclose much over the phone.
She suggested he contact the department that had handled Rachel’s missing-person report.
He did.
That call took longer.
Daniel spent twenty-two minutes repeating identifying information, dates, case numbers he found in an old email, and finally explaining that he had current evidence Rachel might be alive.
The officer on duty did not gasp.
He did not promise immediate action.
He said the original detective was no longer working nights and that someone would contact Daniel in the morning. If Daniel believed Rachel was in immediate danger, he could request a welfare check at the new address.
Did he?
Daniel looked at Noah.
At Lucy.
At the closed library door.
“I don’t know.”
The officer paused.
“Then I’d recommend you not drive over there tonight with kids in the car.”
It was almost irritating to hear his own thought repeated by a stranger.
Daniel thanked him and ended the call.
Noah said, “So we’re not going.”
“Not tonight.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Probably.”
“You’re just going to sleep?”
“No.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Read every message Elise has.”
Noah’s face changed at her name.
“Do you still love her?”
Daniel looked toward the shelves.
One of Lucy’s school projects was wedged beside a set of biographies: a paper house with four stick figures standing in front of it.
Lucy had drawn Elise in a black dress.
Daniel wondered when.
“Yes,” he said.
Noah looked angry.
Daniel did not soften it.
“You can love someone and still decide you cannot trust them.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No.”
“Then why do grown-ups say stuff like that?”
“Because sometimes the true answer is annoying.”
Lucy had closed her eyes.
Noah studied her, then pulled the throw blanket over her legs.
The gesture was so familiar that Daniel had to look away.
“I’m going back out there,” he said. “You two stay here.”
“No spider?”
“I think we’ve reached an agreement with the spider community.”
Noah rolled his eyes.
That was the first normal thing anyone had done all night.
Elise was still in the foyer when Daniel returned.
She had taken off her heels.
They sat neatly beside the bench, paired toe to toe.
Her phone rested on the floor beside her.
“I emailed the archive to you,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“I also sent the bank transfer.”
“Anything else?”
“There’s a document Rachel signed.”
Daniel’s stomach tightened.
“What document?”
“An agreement.”
“Prepared by whom?”
“Me.”
“You’re not an attorney.”
“It wasn’t a custody agreement.”
“What was it?”
“Acknowledgment of payment and her intention to relocate voluntarily.”
“Did my name appear?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“As the person benefiting from the arrangement.”
“Did it say I approved?”
Elise hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Did she sign?”
“Yes.”
“Did I?”
“No.”
“Did you sign for me?”
“No.”
Daniel nodded.
One small mercy.
Elise continued.
“She signed electronically.”
“Send it.”
“I did.”
“What about the fake email address?”
“I sent the login.”
He looked at her.
“You kept that too.”
“I keep everything.”
“I noticed.”
She rubbed her arms.
Without the shoes, she seemed smaller.
Daniel picked up the broken locket.
One hinge was bent. The silver heart no longer closed properly.
He put it in his pocket.
Elise watched.
“That was Rachel’s mother’s.”
Daniel looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“Rachel told me.”
“When?”
“During one of the first meetings.”
“You met her in person.”
“Twice.”
“Where?”
“A coffee shop in Stamford.”
Daniel smiled faintly.
“Of course.”
“What?”
“You told me you hated that coffee shop.”
“I do.”
“So you remember.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
“I remember all of it.”
That sounded less like defense than confession.
Daniel opened the front door.
Cold night air moved into the foyer.
Elise frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting your car keys.”
“Why?”
“You’re not staying here tonight.”
Her face emptied.
“Daniel.”
“I’m not asking you to disappear. I’m asking you to sleep somewhere else.”
“This is my home.”
“It’s also their home.”
“I would never hurt them.”
“You hurt them tonight.”
“I mean physically.”
“That is a very low bar.”
She looked past him toward the library.
“Can I say good night?”
“No.”
The answer came before he considered whether it was cruel.
Elise nodded slowly.
Then she went upstairs.
Daniel stayed at the bottom of the staircase.
He could hear drawers opening.
A zipper.
Footsteps.
The ordinary sounds of someone packing an overnight bag.
She came down fifteen minutes later wearing a camel-colored coat over the black gown, carrying a small case.
At the door she stopped.
“What happens tomorrow?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to the address?”
“Yes.”
“Without me?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“She may not open the door for you.”
“Why?”
“Because she thinks you agreed.”
The sentence landed hard.
Elise looked miserable.
Daniel did not comfort her.
“She may hate you,” Elise said.
“I’ll survive it.”
“She may tell the kids things that aren’t fair.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“Daniel.”
He opened the door wider.
Elise stepped outside.
Before walking to her car, she turned.
“I did love them.”
He looked at her.
“I know.”
“And you.”
“I know.”
Her lips trembled.
“I thought that would matter more.”
May you like
Daniel rested one hand against the brass door handle.
“It might be why this hurts as much as it does.”
