Chương 9
Across the street, three phones were pointed toward them.
Rocco stopped at the curb. His hands gripped the wheels so hard the tendons stood out along his wrists.
“Scar under his chin?” he asked.
“I didn’t see.”
“Height?”
“About yours.”
“Build?”
“Thinner.”
“Shoes?”
“I was looking at his face.”
“You said you didn’t see it.”
“I saw the back of his head.”
Rocco closed his eyes for one second.
Mara said, “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Make me feel stupid because I ran after somebody who broke into my business.”
“I don’t need to make you feel anything. He could have shot you.”
“He didn’t.”
“An excellent plan, then.”
Owen stepped between them. “Who broke in?”
Rocco looked at him. “Ask your investor.”
“That’s enough.”
“No, it isn’t,” Mara said. “Did Adrian know we were at the bank?”
Owen stared at her.
“Answer.”
“He called while you were there.”
“How would he know?”
“He sits on the board.”
“That doesn’t mean he receives alerts when I open a box.”
Owen’s silence answered.
Mara looked through the bakery window at the flour-covered floor. “You knew they were watching the account.”
“I suspected.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I came to the hospital.”
“After the footage disappeared.”
Rocco said, “What did Adrian ask you to do?”
“Nothing.”
“That sentence is carrying too much weight.”
Owen’s face tightened. “He asked whether Mara had mentioned an old bank box. I said no.”
“Why would he ask you?”
“Because he knows we used to—”
“Because he thinks I’ll tell Owen things,” Mara said. “Because everyone thinks women keep old fiancés as emergency furniture.”
Owen flinched. “That isn’t fair.”
“No. Fair would have been a phone call before somebody tore apart my bakery.”
The reporters were moving closer.
Rocco lowered his voice. “Inside.”
Mara looked at the cameras, then at the flour across the floor.
A reporter called, “Ms. Hale, is this connected to the assault this morning?”
Celeste stood inside her salon behind locked glass doors. Nadia was beside her. Bianca was gone.
Mara wanted to tell the cameras everything. She wanted to hold up Ray’s letter, name Victor Castellano, and force the story so far into daylight that no one could drag it back into a vault.
Rocco saw the decision forming.
“No,” he said.
One reporter extended a microphone. “Was your bakery vandalized because you defended Mr. Castellano?”
Mara looked toward the microphone.
Rocco rolled between her and the camera.
“Go home,” he told the reporter.
The reporter glanced at the wheelchair, recalibrating. “Sir, are you the victim in the video?”
“I was the man in the video.”
“Do you intend to press charges against Celeste Vale?”
“No comment.”
“Are you related to Victor Castellano of Castellano Development?”
Rocco’s eyes lifted.
The reporter leaned closer. “Is that why you’re in Cedar Hollow?”
Mara said, “Who told you that?”
The reporter’s expression became pleased. “So there is a connection.”
Rocco turned his chair. “Inside. Now.”
This time Mara obeyed.
They locked the bakery behind them. Owen closed the blinds.
The front room looked as though it had been dusted for fingerprints by a careless giant. Flour covered the tile, chairs, and the pastry case. Someone had stepped on a tray of lemon bars. Their yellow filling spread beneath a shoe print.
Mara picked up one of the bars and dropped it into the trash.
Then another.
Rocco watched her clean for several minutes.
“Stop,” he said.
“The health inspector will close us.”
“The person outside with the camera will bring the inspector before you finish.”
“I can clean faster than they can file paperwork.”
“Mara.”
She threw away the entire tray.
Owen said, “I’ll call the police.”
Rocco looked at him. “Which one?”
“Ellis.”
“Call him directly.”
Owen stepped into the kitchen.
Mara picked up a split flour bag. It collapsed in her hands.
Rocco wheeled closer. “You wanted to tell the reporters.”
“Yes.”
“That would have warned Victor what we have.”
“He already knows what we have.”
“He knows about the box. He doesn’t know about the tape.”
“Unless my father told someone.”
“Or Caleb did.”
Mara looked at him.
“You said you didn’t trust him.”
“He won’t damage a recording.”
“That isn’t the same as keeping it secret.”
Her phone rang.
Caleb.
She answered at once. “Is the tape safe?”
“For now.”
“What does that mean?”
“I stabilized the damaged section. There’s audio.”
Rocco moved close enough to hear.
Caleb continued, “You need to come here.”
“Tell me what’s on it.”
“No.”
“Caleb.”
“There are three voices. Ray’s, another man’s, and a third person I haven’t identified. I copied the recoverable audio to two drives.”
“Who knows?”
A pause.
“Caleb, who knows?”
“Hannah. That’s all.”
“Did anyone come to the workshop?”
“Someone called asking whether I repaired microcassettes.”
Rocco held out his hand for the phone.
Mara put it on speaker instead.
“Did you give a name?” Rocco asked.
“No.”
“What did the caller sound like?”
“Male. Older. He asked if a woman from Hale’s Bakery had brought anything.”
“Lock the door.”
“I already did.”
“Turn off the lights. Don’t take the drives anywhere.”
Caleb said, “I’m not a child.”
“Then stop answering questions from strangers like one.”
Mara interrupted before Caleb could hang up. “We’re coming.”
Ellis arrived as they prepared to leave. He photographed the damage and listened while Mara described the intruder. When she mentioned the black sedan, he asked for a license plate.
“I was busy not being hit by it.”
“That isn’t criticism.”
“It sounded like criticism.”
“It’s a form question.”
Rocco remained near the doorway, watching the alley.
Ellis lowered his camera. “I need to know what this is about.”
“No,” Rocco said.
Ellis looked at him. “Your choice this morning was not to file a complaint. Somebody has now committed felony burglary. Ms. Hale was nearly struck by a vehicle. If the events are connected, silence is not caution anymore.”
Mara took out Peter’s affidavit.
Rocco said, “Don’t.”
May you like
She hesitated, then gave it to Ellis.
He read the first page standing amid the flour. His face changed at Samuel Vale’s name.
