Chương 7
“That isn’t an answer.”
Owen looked toward the sliding hospital doors. “I came to warn you that somebody might have copied the bakery footage before erasing it.”
Rocco said, “Or you came to learn whether another copy exists.”
Owen’s eyes flashed. “I don’t know you.”
“That makes two advantages I have.”
Mara stepped between them before the conversation became physical in a way neither man would admit wanting. “Owen, did you erase it?”
“No.”
“Would you tell me if Adrian asked you to?”
“Yes.”
She waited.
He looked away.
“That took too long,” she said.
“Mara.”
“What?”
“You think everybody had twenty-three years to become brave before you needed them.”
The sentence landed harder than she expected.
Owen lowered his voice. “Adrian called ten minutes after the video appeared online. He asked whether your camera showed the sidewalk. I told him it probably did. Then I checked and found the reset.”
“Why would he care?” Mara asked.
Owen glanced at Rocco. “He didn’t say.”
Rocco rolled closer. “Did he ask about me?”
“He asked whether the man in the chair entered the bakery.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I didn’t know.”
“Did he believe you?”
“No.”
Owen handed Mara his phone. A screenshot showed the security account log, including the remote reset and a failed attempt to delete backup files from a cloud server.
Rocco read the IP address.
“Send this to her,” he said.
“I already did.”
“Send it somewhere else.”
Owen’s mouth tightened. “I’m not taking instructions from you.”
“Then take one from the person whose business you exposed.”
Mara said, “Email it to me, my accountant, and yourself.”
Rocco added, “And print it.”
Owen looked between them. “You two have known each other for an hour.”
“Unfortunately,” Mara said.
Rocco glanced at her. “She’s learning.”
Owen sent the files.
Before leaving, he touched Mara’s sleeve. “The video of Celeste is ugly. People are going to enjoy hating her. Don’t confuse that with people caring what happens to you.”
Mara looked at the waiting cars, the hospital windows, and the strangers passing beneath umbrellas.
“Is that advice?”
“It’s experience.”
“With what?”
“With being hated.”
She pulled her arm away.
Owen walked toward his truck.
Rocco watched him. “You were going to marry him.”
Mara turned. “How could you know that?”
“He touched you like someone who used to have permission.”
She opened the van door. “You notice too much.”
“That’s why I’m still alive.”
Caleb Mercer’s workshop occupied a former laundromat behind the Methodist church. Two organ pipes leaned beside the entrance like discarded artillery. Through the front window, Mara saw Caleb bent over a reel-to-reel machine, magnifying glasses clipped to his eyeglasses.
His wife, Hannah, sat at the desk balancing a toddler on one knee.
Mara considered driving past.
Rocco, secured behind her, said, “That him?”
“Yes.”
“The one you don’t trust.”
“Yes.”
“Go inside.”
“I heard you the first time.”
Caleb’s face went still when Mara entered. Hannah looked up, recognized her, and smiled with the open kindness of someone who had not been present for the worst part of the story.
“Mara,” she said. “I saw the video. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
Hannah glanced through the window at Rocco waiting near the ramp. “Is he?”
“No.”
Rocco rolled inside before Mara finished.
Caleb removed the magnifying lenses. “You need something repaired.”
It was not a question. He had always understood objects more quickly than conversations.
Mara placed the microcassette on the counter. “Can you copy this without damaging it?”
Caleb examined the case without touching it. “Maybe.”
“How long?”
“Depends on the tape.”
“Today.”
Hannah shifted the toddler to her other hip. “Caleb has a church console due Friday.”
Caleb was still studying the cassette. “This tape is warped.”
Rocco said, “Can you recover it?”
“I can try.”
“Can anyone else?”
“Of course.”
“In town?”
“No.”
“Then try.”
Caleb looked up. “You’re Rocco Castellano.”
Mara felt the room change.
Rocco said, “Why do people keep knowing me?”
“You were on a union site last year. After your accident. They raised money for your rehabilitation.”
“I didn’t take it.”
“I know.”
Hannah said softly, “It was in the article.”
Caleb opened a drawer and removed cotton gloves. “This may take several hours.”
“We’ll wait,” Rocco said.
Mara said, “We need to go to the bank.”
Caleb paused. “First Cedar?”
“Why?”
“Nothing.”
Rocco rolled to the counter. “Say the rest.”
Caleb looked at Mara, not him. “Adrian Vale joined the bank board last spring.”
Mara closed her eyes.
Rocco’s voice stayed level. “Does everybody in this town owe him money?”
“Mostly,” Hannah said.
Caleb gave her a warning glance.
She adjusted the child’s sock. “It’s true.”
Mara leaned against the counter. “The box is in my father’s name. I’m listed.”
“Then you can access it,” Caleb said. “Board members don’t watch people open safe-deposit boxes.”
Rocco said, “People watch whatever they’re paid to watch.”
Caleb picked up the cassette. “Leave this with me.”
“No,” Rocco said.
“I can’t repair it with you holding it.”
“You repair it while I’m here.”
“This is a clean workspace.”
“So clean it again.”
Mara heard the old challenge in Caleb’s silence. He disliked being doubted, especially in the narrow kingdom of machines where he rarely made mistakes.
“Rocco,” she said, “let him work.”
Rocco did not move.
Caleb’s voice cooled. “You can sit beside the bench. Don’t touch anything.”
Hannah stood. “I’m taking Clara to lunch.”
The toddler waved at Rocco.
He stared at her small hand, then raised his own after a delay.
Hannah smiled and left.
Caleb removed the cassette from its case. “The tape is creased near the leader. If the recording is beyond that, we have a chance.”
Mara sat in the chair beside the front window. “Call me before you play it.”
Caleb looked at her. “I will.”
May you like
She believed he meant it.
That was part of the problem with Caleb. He meant many things while saying them. Then another fear became louder.
