Chương 3
Now procedure was the only thing keeping me from contaminating the case against her.
“Robert,” Reeves said, “there’s something else.”
I waited.
“Your front door was unlocked when Ortiz checked it.”
My mouth went dry.
“It shouldn’t have been.”
“Emma says she tried to get inside.”
“She couldn’t.”
“That’s the problem.”
I looked at my daughter through the glass.
“What are you saying?”
“The deadbolt works from inside and outside.”
“I know how my door works.”
“Then a chain around the porch post wouldn’t have stopped her from opening it unless the chain was short enough.”
“It was.”
“Ortiz measured it.”
Reeves exhaled.
“Robert, somebody had to pull the door shut after Emma came outside.”
I stopped hearing the hospital around me.
“Emma was home alone for twenty-two minutes before I got there.”
“I know.”
“Diana entered my house?”
“We don’t know that.”
I stared at Emma’s shoes beneath the hospital chair, one lace still untied.
“Find out.”
“We will.”
“Find out before she has time to make this look like a landscaping dispute.”
Reeves did not answer immediately.
When he finally spoke, his voice had changed.
“She already has.”
“What?”
“The HOA sent an email to every homeowner twelve minutes ago.”
I closed my eyes.
“What does it say?”
“It says there was an unfortunate medical incident during a routine property-compliance inspection and that an unnamed resident damaged association equipment while threatening a board officer.”
“Unnamed resident.”
“Yeah.”
“She means me.”
“Everybody knows she means you.”
My phone vibrated again while Reeves was still speaking.
A message notification appeared from a number I did not recognize.
There was no text.
Only a photograph.
Emma was sitting against my porch pillar with the chain around her waist.
The picture had been taken before I arrived.
Her face was turned toward whoever held the camera.
Her mouth was open as if she were speaking.
Behind her, my front door stood open.
I stopped breathing.
Then a second message appeared.
This one had six words.
Ask your daughter who went inside.
For a moment, I thought the message had come from Diana.
Then I looked at the photograph again.
The angle was wrong for where she had been standing.
Whoever took it had been closer to the driveway, low enough that part of the porch rail cut across the bottom of the frame.
Wes Cole.
That was my first guess.
It was also the guess I did not trust.
I forwarded both messages to Reeves without replying.
Then I sent one more.
Preserve the number before anybody contacts it.
His answer came almost immediately.
Already on it.
I put the phone facedown on the counter outside Emma’s room.
Inside, she was watching a cartoon with the volume low.
A rabbit was trying to hide a stolen pie behind its back.
Emma glanced toward me when I came in.
“Was that work?”
“Sort of.”
She turned back to the television.
“You make that face when it’s work.”
“What face?”
“The one where your eyebrows look mad at each other.”
I sat down beside her.
The photograph stayed in my head.
The open door.
Emma chained outside.
Somebody inside my house.
“Em, I need to ask you something.”
She muted the television before I could.
That hurt more than it should have.
Eight-year-olds should not recognize interview voices.
“Okay.”
“You told me you tried to get inside.”
“Yeah.”
“Was the door open then?”
She frowned.
“At first.”
My chest tightened.
“At first?”
“When Mrs. Harrington came over, it was open.”
“Why?”
“I was getting my water.”
“From the kitchen?”
She nodded.
“I heard somebody knock, but then she just came around the side.”
“She didn’t use the front door?”
“No.”
“Where were you?”
“Kitchen.”
“What happened next?”
Emma shifted beneath the blanket.
The IV line tugged at her wrist, and she carefully lifted her arm.
“She said I had to come outside because I broke the flowerpot.”
“Did you?”
“I told you.”
“I know.”
She gave me a look.
Even sick, she hated being asked twice.
“I’m trying to get the order right.”
“Oh.”
“Did you bring your water?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“She said no drinks until we talked.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
I let it go before she noticed.
“Then what?”
“I came outside.”
“Was Mr. Cole there yet?”
“He was by his truck.”
“Did he come over?”
“She called him.”
“Then?”
Emma stared at the dark television screen.
“She made me stand by the post.”
“Did she go inside?”
Emma’s eyes moved to mine.
“Why?”
“Did she?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t see?”
“I was talking to Mr. Cole.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked if I was okay.”
“And you said?”
“I said I needed my medicine.”
The words landed harder than anything else had.
“What medicine?”
“My white pills.”
Her rescue medication sat in a labeled container inside the kitchen cabinet.
She knew where it was.
She knew not to take it without an adult unless her monitor alarmed and she could not reach me.
“Did you tell Diana where it was?”
“I told her it was in the kitchen.”
I leaned forward.
“Did she go inside after that?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“She went behind me.”
“Toward the door?”
“Yes.”
“How long was she gone?”
Emma shrugged.
“Not long.”
“Did she bring the medicine?”
“No.”
“Did she say she couldn’t find it?”
“No.”
“What did she say when she came back?”
Emma’s brow folded.
“She asked Mr. Cole if he had the chain.”
The room seemed suddenly too bright.
I looked toward the doorway.
Nobody stood there.
“Why would Mr. Cole have a chain?”
“He had it in his truck.”
“For work?”
“I guess.”
“Did he say what it was for?”
“He said it was for gates.”
That made sense.
Maintenance crews kept chains for temporary closures and equipment.
May you like
The kind of ordinary object that became monstrous depending on who decided how to use it.
“Did Diana have anything in her hands when she came back out?”
