Chương 7
People would not surrender that version because a wet mitten existed.
“He’s already calling people,” Sarah said.
Brooks studied her. “How do you know?”
“Because that’s what he does.”
By sunrise, Arthur’s version had begun to spread.
A local business reporter called the hospital asking for comment on an incident involving “a former Vance Financial employee experiencing a mental health crisis.” A board member from the firm left a voicemail on the loaned phone saying Arthur loved the girls and was devastated by David’s behavior. Someone posted in a neighborhood group that police activity at the Vance residence was related to a domestic dispute.
Sarah read the message twice.
Domestic dispute.
The phrase made her daughters’ cold bodies sound private, almost mutual.
Denise took the phone from her.
“You don’t have to answer anybody.”
“They’re saying David did it.”
“People say things when the truth is inconvenient.”
“My father employs half of them.”
“Then they have a reason.”
At seven, Sarah’s brother called from Singapore.
Matthew’s face appeared on the loaned phone from a hotel room with gray curtains and a lamp shaped like a brass stalk. He was thirty-one, clean-shaven, wearing a white dress shirt with the top button open. Their father had given him a job in international client development four years earlier, though Matthew’s degree was in architecture.
“What the hell is happening?” he asked.
“Have you talked to Dad?”
“He called me an hour ago.”
“What did he say?”
“That David attacked him and took the girls.”
“Dad put David in the garage with a running car.”
Matthew stared at her.
“Who told you that?”
“David.”
“He has a head injury.”
“Maisie says Mom locked them outside.”
“Maisie is eight.”
Sarah almost ended the call.
Matthew dragged a hand over his face. “I’m not saying she’s lying. I’m saying none of this makes sense.”
“It makes sense if Dad wanted David dead.”
“Listen to yourself.”
“I am.”
“Sarah, Dad has a cut on his face. He said David came after him.”
“Did he mention the key?”
“What key?”
“He reported a key stolen before police found it in Maisie’s purse.”
Matthew’s eyes shifted away from the screen.
“What?”
“Ask him.”
“I’m asking you.”
“And I’m telling you.”
Matthew stood and walked across the hotel room. The image shook.
“He said there are confidential client files missing,” he said. “He said David has been trying to frame the firm for weeks.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I don’t know.”
“You work there.”
“I work in Singapore. I don’t see domestic account transfers.”
“Then look.”
“Look where?”
“Ask for the Hartwell records.”
Matthew became still.
Sarah saw recognition.
“You know that name,” she said.
“It’s a major family account.”
“David said Dad was moving money out of it.”
“David says a lot when he gets fixated.”
The phrase was Arthur’s. Sarah heard it in Matthew’s mouth and felt something close inside her.
“Ruby is three,” she said. “She was unconscious when they brought her in. Maisie climbed an iced fence while carrying her. Mom watched from the door.”
Matthew sat down.
Behind him, a digital clock read 8:22 p.m. Singapore time.
“I’ll come home,” he said.
“Don’t come home to protect him.”
“I said I’ll come home.”
The call ended.
Ruby was transferred to pediatric intensive care later that morning because her breathing remained shallow and her oxygen levels dipped whenever she slept deeply. The physicians did not dramatize it. They used terms like observation and precaution and response. Sarah followed the rolling bed through two sets of doors, carrying the sealed rabbit because Mercer had finally allowed the hospital to photograph and swab it.
Afterward, the evidence bag was removed.
Ruby clutched the damp, disinfectant-smelling rabbit against her chest with bandaged hands.
“Bunny cold,” she murmured.
“We’ll warm him.”
Ruby’s eyes opened wider. “Grandma bad?”
Sarah glanced at the nurse.
Children heard everything. Adults simply preferred to imagine otherwise.
“Grandma made a very bad choice,” Sarah said.
“Grandpa mad.”
“At who?”
“Daddy.”
“Did you see Grandpa?”
Ruby pressed her face into the rabbit.
Sarah did not ask again.
A child-interview specialist arrived that afternoon. Her name was Tessa Young, and she wore a green cardigan with a small hole near one cuff. She spoke to Maisie alone in a consultation room while Sarah sat outside with Denise and tried not to imagine every question.
When the door opened an hour later, Maisie looked exhausted.
“Can I have pancakes?” she asked.
The cafeteria had stopped serving breakfast.
Denise found frozen pancakes in the staff lounge and heated them in a microwave. Maisie ate half of one with plastic utensils while Tessa spoke privately to Brooks and Mercer.
Sarah watched their faces through the glass partition.
Mercer looked down.
Brooks asked a question.
Tessa answered, then pressed her lips together.
When they came out, Brooks asked Sarah to sit.
“What did she say?”
“We’re not going to go through every detail with you right now.”
“That’s my daughter.”
“And repeating the account can increase her distress.”
“Tell me what matters.”
Brooks sat opposite her.
“Maisie said your father picked her and Ruby up from dance. He took them to the house. Your mother arrived later. David came around six forty-five. There was an argument in the kitchen and then the garage.”
“That matches what she told me.”
“She said your husband gave her a purple folder before your father arrived at dance, not afterward.”
Sarah frowned.
“She had the folder in her dance bag?”
“Yes.”
“So the drive may never have been in Dad’s car.”
“Possibly.”
“Where is her dance bag?”
“Recovered at the house.”
“With the drive?”
“No.”
Sarah pressed her fingertips against her forehead.
Brooks continued. “Maisie said she heard your father tell David he could make the missing money look like a systems error if David signed something. David refused. Your father then told your mother to take the girls upstairs.”
“Maisie understands what ‘systems error’ means?”
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“She remembered the phrase. She didn’t understand it.”
“What happened next?”
