Chương 4
The sentence returned intact.
So did the expression on her face after he said it.
He had forgotten both until now.
Mara looked toward the floor.
“You told me I was being suspicious because I didn’t grow up around people like him.”
Nathan felt something unpleasant move through his chest.
“I said that?”
“Yes.”
He remembered the wording now.
Worse, he remembered believing it.
“Mara—”
“You asked why I didn’t tell you.”
He nodded.
“I did.”
“I’m answering.”
She walked away before he could apologize badly.
Nathan remained in the foyer.
From his bedroom came the sound of Lily talking to herself while climbing onto his bed.
A minute later she shouted, “Uncle Nate!”
He followed the voice.
She was sitting in the middle of his bed wearing pajamas covered in tiny yellow moons. Mara had apparently changed her while Nathan was speaking to the detective.
Lily pointed at the pillows.
“Why do you have six?”
“I don’t know.”
“You only have one head.”
“I’m aware.”
“That’s wasteful.”
Nathan took off his jacket.
“Go to sleep.”
“Are bad guys real?”
He stopped.
Lily watched him.
There were dozens of answers designed for children.
Nathan knew none of them.
“People do bad things,” he said.
“Is Julian a bad guy?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“He put the stuff on your steak.”
“I believe you.”
“So you know.”
Nathan sat on the edge of the bed.
He loosened his burgundy tie.
“I know he did something dangerous. I don’t know everything about why.”
“Because someone paid him.”
Nathan looked at her.
She had heard his line.
Of course she had.
“That was a guess.”
“You said it like it wasn’t.”
“That happens when adults are angry.”
“Mom used to do that.”
Nathan stared at the carpet.
Claire had been dead eleven months.
Lily rarely mentioned her without warning.
“She did,” he said.
“She’d say, ‘I’m not asking again,’ but she was asking again.”
Nathan smiled despite himself.
“Yes.”
“And she’d say she wasn’t mad.”
“She was usually mad.”
“She was always mad at the microwave.”
“It deserved it.”
Lily crawled under the blanket.
Nathan stood.
“Try to sleep.”
“You too.”
“I have some things to do.”
Her face changed.
“No.”
“Lily—”
“You said you weren’t going to work.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re doing the voice.”
“What voice?”
“The work voice.”
Nathan sat again.
“What does my work voice sound like?”
She lowered her voice absurdly.
“Lily, we’ll discuss that later.”
He laughed.
It came out before he could stop it.
She smiled.
Then the smile vanished.
“Please stay until I fall asleep.”
Nathan looked toward the door.
His phone had already collected forty-three notifications.
He turned it off.
“All right.”
Lily rolled onto her side.
Six minutes later, her breathing slowed.
Nathan stayed for another twenty.
At 2:07 a.m., he went into his study.
There was a scratch on the lower left drawer of his desk where Lily had hit it with a wooden horse two Christmases earlier. He had planned to have the desk refinished.
He never had.
Nathan sat.
His phone lit up when he turned it on.
Messages from attorneys. Security. His chief operating officer. Two board members. One reporter who somehow knew police had visited the building.
And Everett.
CALL ME. NOW.
The second message had arrived seven minutes later.
DO NOT LET THIS BECOME PUBLIC UNTIL WE UNDERSTAND WHAT HAPPENED.
The third:
Nathan. Call me.
Nathan looked at the screen for a long time.
Then he called.
Everett answered before the first ring completed.
“What the hell happened?”
Nathan leaned back.
“You tell me.”
Silence.
Then, carefully, “What does that mean?”
“Julian put something on my dinner.”
“According to whom?”
“Lily.”
Everett exhaled.
“Oh, Christ.”
“You don’t believe her?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You asked according to whom.”
“Nathan, she’s five.”
“So is that your answer?”
“My answer is that you sound furious, there were police in your apartment, and I’m trying to understand what we actually know.”
Nathan stared at the dark window.
His reflection stared back in shirtsleeves.
“We know Julian had a silver vial hidden under his napkin.”
Everett went quiet again.
“What was in it?”
“Testing isn’t done.”
“Was he arrested?”
“No.”
“Then slow down.”
Nathan almost laughed.
“Interesting choice of words.”
“I mean it. Do not turn this into some public execution because you’re angry.”
“A man put something on my food.”
“Allegedly.”
Nathan sat forward.
“You’ve used that word exactly twice in your life.”
Everett sighed.
“When your father got sued, and when Claire accused Martin Keys of padding invoices.”
Claire.
The name changed the room.
Nathan looked at a stack of documents on the corner of his desk.
“What did Claire say about Julian?”
“Tonight?”
“Before she died.”
“Nathan.”
“What did she say?”
“I don’t know.”
“You remember everything.”
“I remember enough to know this conversation is happening at two in the morning after somebody frightened you.”
“I’m not frightened.”
“Then you’re stupider than I thought.”
That sounded like Everett.
For a moment Nathan could almost believe the evening had been some grotesque misunderstanding.
Everett continued.
“Cancel the vote tomorrow.”
Nathan’s attention sharpened.
“Why?”
“Because your board will spend the entire meeting talking about attempted murder.”
“We don’t know it was attempted murder.”
“Exactly.”
Nathan said nothing.
Everett had stepped into it and knew it.
“You just told me not to speculate,” Nathan said.
“I’m tired.”
“You don’t get tired.”
“Nathan—”
“You want the forensic review delayed.”
“I wanted it delayed yesterday.”
“Julian wanted it delayed.”
“Half the board wants it delayed.”
“Why?”
“Because an outside firm tearing through ten years of records based on inconsistencies Claire raised before she died is not a small decision.”
Nathan looked at his reflection again.
“Claire’s been dead eleven months.”
“I know.”
“You don’t need to remind me.”
“You’re the one who brought her into this.”
“No, Nathan. You did.”
The line went quiet.
Nathan felt the old reflex: defend, counter, win.
May you like
Instead he asked, “When did you last speak to Julian?”
A pause.
