Chương 8
“Your mother put the key into Maisie’s purse and told her that her father had taken it because he was confused. Maisie said David came into the hall with blood near his ear.”
Sarah’s stomach turned.
“She said Grandpa pushed him?”
“She said your father and husband were holding each other. She could not tell who started it. Then your father took David toward the garage.”
“And Mom locked the girls outside.”
“Maisie said your mother told them they were going to play a game on the patio. When Maisie tried to open the door again, it was locked.”
Sarah looked down at her hands.
“Did she say why Mom came back?”
“Your mother opened the door after several minutes and told them to come inside. Maisie was already lifting Ruby over the gate. She believed your mother was angry with her.”
“Was she?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“What did she mean about the snow erasing everything?”
“According to Maisie, your mother said, ‘Come back now. The snow will erase everything, and nobody has to know you were out here.’”
The full sentence was worse.
Nobody has to know.
Sarah looked toward Maisie, who was cutting the pancake into tiny squares.
“Did she hear anything about the car?”
“Yes. She heard your father say the garage had to stay closed.”
Brooks rested both hands on her knees.
“We found elevated carbon monoxide levels in the garage when responders arrived, despite the main door being partially open. There was blood in the rear seat of your father’s SUV and on the garage floor. We also found marks consistent with someone being dragged.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“Why isn’t he under arrest?”
“He will be.”
“When?”
“I can’t give you an exact time.”
“Is he at home?”
“No.”
“Where is he?”
“With his attorney at a hotel.”
“You know that?”
“Yes.”
“Can he leave the state?”
“We’re addressing that.”
Sarah stood.
Brooks stood too.
“This is what money buys,” Sarah said. “A hotel while you address things.”
“No,” Brooks said. “Evidence buys a conviction. Rushing buys mistakes.”
Sarah wanted to hate her. It would have been easier than admitting Brooks was right.
That evening, Arthur called the loaned phone.
Sarah stared at his name on the screen. Denise had transferred selected contacts for her. She had almost excluded him, then decided she wanted to know when he tried.
Mercer was in the corridor. Sarah showed him the phone.
“Answer,” he said. “Put it on speaker only if you’re comfortable.”
Brooks arrived before the third ring. She activated a recorder after confirming Sarah’s consent.
Sarah answered.
“Hello.”
Arthur’s voice filled the small consultation room.
“Sarah, where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
“I know that. Which floor?”
“You’re not coming here.”
A pause.
“Philip tells me the police have been speaking to you without counsel.”
“I’m not a suspect.”
“Not yet.”
Brooks wrote something on her pad.
Sarah looked at her. Brooks gave no reaction.
“What does that mean?” Sarah asked.
“It means David involved you in whatever he was doing. If confidential records are on your property, the firm may have obligations.”
“My daughters almost died.”
“And I am trying to protect them.”
“From their father?”
“From the consequences of his choices.”
Sarah heard his office voice—the measured cadence, the lowered register that made clients feel irresponsible for interrupting.
“You told police the girls were never at your house.”
“I was confused.”
“You reported the key stolen before it was found.”
“It was missing.”
“Mom put it in Maisie’s purse.”
“Your mother is distraught. She says things badly when she panics.”
Sarah watched the recorder’s red light.
“Did you put David in the SUV?”
Arthur inhaled slowly.
“I defended myself.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“He came into my home in a rage. He struck me. He threatened to ruin the company and destroy hundreds of families’ finances.”
“So you put him in the car.”
“I tried to move him someplace safe after he collapsed.”
“With the engine running and the garage closed?”
“Sarah, you’re repeating accusations you don’t understand.”
“What was supposed to happen to the girls?”
Silence.
Then: “Eleanor was supposed to keep them upstairs.”
Brooks’s pen stopped.
Sarah’s pulse thudded in her throat.
“You said they were never there.”
“I’m saying hypothetically—”
“No. You said Mom was supposed to keep them upstairs.”
Arthur’s voice hardened.
“You need to stop this.”
“Stop what?”
“Helping strangers tear apart your family.”
“You put my husband in a car.”
“He was destroying us.”
The line went quiet.
Sarah could hear distant sounds behind him: the click of ice in a glass, a door closing, someone speaking in the hallway.
Arthur spoke again, softer now.
“Your mother made a mistake with the patio door. Six minutes, Sarah. At most. She went back for them.”
“You know how long they were outside?”
“I know what she told me.”
“Maisie says it was longer.”
“Maisie is a child.”
“Ruby couldn’t feel her hands.”
“That was not supposed to happen.”
Brooks looked up sharply.
Sarah gripped the edge of the table.
“What was supposed to happen?”
Arthur did not answer.
“What was supposed to happen, Dad?”
His voice changed. The gentleness disappeared.
“David was supposed to sign the agreement, return the files, and leave my company alone.”
“And if he didn’t?”
“He made his decision.”
The call ended.
For several seconds, no one in the room moved.
Brooks saved the recording in two places.
Mercer stepped into the corridor and made a call.
Sarah remained at the table, staring at the dead screen.
She had expected triumph. Her father had admitted knowledge he had denied. He had said the girls were there. He had said Ruby’s injuries were not supposed to happen.
May you like
Instead Sarah felt twelve years old.
Arthur had once left her at a roadside restaurant after she talked back during a family vacation. He drove away with Eleanor and Matthew in the car, circled the block, and returned four minutes later. Sarah had stood beside a newspaper box trying not to cry because she knew he would laugh if he saw.
