Chương 6
Nathan touched the space between his brows.
Mara’s mouth moved slightly.
“Apparently she’s right.”
Nathan turned.
“What would you do?”
“I’d increase security. I’d keep her home today. I’d make this place feel like her home instead of a crime scene.”
“It is a crime scene.”
“Not forever.”
Nathan looked toward the hall.
“I can’t protect her here.”
“You can’t guarantee anything anywhere.”
“That isn’t helpful.”
“It’s true.”
Nathan hated true things at three-thirty in the morning.
He sat.
“Tell Marcus what Julian asked you.”
“I already did.”
“Good.”
“And Detective Ruiz.”
Nathan looked up.
“When?”
“While you were interrogating the internet.”
Nathan took another drink of coffee.
“You’re becoming impossible.”
“Good night, Mr. Cole.”
“Mara.”
She stopped.
“Thank you.”
This time she simply nodded.
At seven-twelve, Lily walked into the kitchen wearing one sock.
Nathan was sitting at the counter with his laptop open and a bowl of cereal he had forgotten to eat.
She stared at him.
“You’re alive.”
“So far.”
She climbed onto the stool beside him.
“Where’s the police fork?”
“With the police.”
Lily frowned.
“I told them not to lose it.”
“I’m sure that changed their priorities.”
She looked at his cereal.
“That’s soggy.”
“I know.”
“Why are you eating it?”
“I’m not.”
“Then why is it there?”
Nathan closed the laptop.
“I don’t know.”
Lily reached across him and took a strawberry from a bowl.
Her hair was tangled on one side.
“Do I have school?”
“No.”
“Am I sick?”
“No.”
“Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Nathan thought about the best way to explain security concerns to a five-year-old without making the apartment feel like a bunker.
“Because last night was strange.”
“It was bad.”
“Yes.”
“Strange is when Mrs. Hanley wears two different shoes.”
Nathan nodded.
“Last night was bad.”
Lily ate the strawberry.
“Is Julian in jail?”
“No.”
Her eyebrows pulled together.
“Why?”
“Because people have to figure out what happened.”
“I told them.”
“I know.”
“So they figured it out.”
“Your part.”
“What other part?”
Nathan rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Whether the stuff in the vial was dangerous. Why Julian had it. Whether anyone else was involved.”
“Who paid him.”
Nathan looked at her.
“Yes.”
Lily swung one bare foot.
“Maybe nobody did.”
Nathan paused.
“What?”
“Maybe he did it because he wanted to.”
It bothered Nathan that a five-year-old had just identified an assumption he had treated as fact.
“Maybe.”
“Can I have pancakes?”
Nathan looked toward the stove as if it had personally insulted him.
“Mara makes pancakes.”
“Mara is on the phone.”
“I can make pancakes.”
Lily stared at him.
“You burned eggs.”
“Once.”
“Three times.”
“Those were complicated eggs.”
“They were scrambled.”
Nathan opened a cabinet.
By the time Mara entered the kitchen twenty minutes later, two pancakes had been discarded, one was raw in the center, and Lily had declared Nathan’s fourth attempt “probably food.”
Mara looked at the counter.
Then at Nathan.
Then at Lily.
“Should I call the paramedics again?”
Lily laughed so hard she snorted.
Nathan pointed the spatula at Mara.
“Not a word.”
His phone rang.
The room changed immediately.
Nathan looked at the screen.
Detective Ruiz.
He set down the spatula and stepped into the hall.
“Nathan Cole.”
“We have a preliminary result.”
He listened.
Ruiz’s voice remained level.
“The material recovered from the vial is not a culinary product. The lab identified a toxic compound. Based on the concentration found in the vial and residue recovered from your plate, exposure could have caused a serious medical emergency.”
Nathan said nothing.
He could hear Lily laughing in the kitchen.
“How serious?”
“I’m not going to give you medical conclusions over the phone beyond what we have.”
“Could it have killed me?”
A pause.
“It was dangerous.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
“Was the residue on my steak the same?”
“The preliminary comparison is consistent.”
“And the red sauce around the vial?”
“Also consistent with material from your plate.”
He leaned against the wall.
“Julian?”
“We’re speaking to his attorney.”
“That means what?”
“It means exactly what I said.”
“You should arrest him.”
“I’m not discussing investigative decisions with you before they happen.”
Nathan looked through the kitchen doorway.
Lily was trying to flip a pancake with Mara.
Mara saw his face.
She stopped smiling.
Ruiz said, “Mr. Cole?”
“I’m here.”
“Preserve all company records involving Mr. Vale. Don’t conduct your own internal interviews until your counsel coordinates with us. You mentioned a board vote involving financial concerns?”
“Yes.”
“I need the relevant documents.”
“I’ll have counsel send them.”
“And Mr. Cole?”
“Yes.”
“Do not contact Mr. Vale.”
Nathan looked toward the city.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Ruiz was silent.
“You don’t believe me.”
“No.”
He almost smiled.
When he returned to the kitchen, Mara turned off the burner.
Lily watched him.
“What?”
Nathan crouched in front of her.
“The little bottle had something dangerous in it.”
Her eyes widened.
“The police know?”
“Yes.”
“I told them.”
“You did.”
“Are they going to take Julian?”
“They’re dealing with him.”
“Did he try to kill you?”
Nathan felt Mara watching him.
“I don’t know what he meant to do.”
“But you would’ve got sick.”
“Yes.”
Lily looked at the pancake on her plate.
Nathan waited.
She picked at one edge with her finger.
“Can I not talk about it now?”
“Absolutely.”
She nodded.
Then she looked up.
“Your pancake tastes weird.”
Nathan stood.
“Thank you.”
“You said absolutely.”
“I meant about the other thing.”
“Oh.”
He poured his coffee.
Lily ate another bite.
“It really does.”
At nine-thirty, Nathan sat at the same dining table where police had removed his dinner.
The missing plate bothered him more than he expected.
The table had been cleaned everywhere investigators permitted, but his place setting remained incomplete. There was a faint circular mark where his wineglass had stood.
The board meeting had been moved to video.
Nathan refused to go downtown.
Eight faces appeared across the screen.
May you like
Everett’s was in the upper left.
He looked as he always did: silver hair combed precisely, navy jacket, pale blue shirt, no tie. He was sixty-eight and had spent four decades making people believe patience and decency were the same thing.
