Chương 10
“I thought Abby was drawing,” Rachel said.
“She was listening.”
“Kids always are.”
Vanessa looked exhausted.
They were sitting in a diner because neither wanted to be in the other’s house.
The waitress refilled their coffee without asking.
Vanessa folded a sugar packet lengthwise.
“David said something else after you went inside.”
Rachel watched her.
“What?”
“He asked me whether you’d had the collection reappraised.”
“And?”
“I said yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you had.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
Vanessa stared at the sugar packet.
“I told him the number.”
Rachel’s mouth tightened.
“Sixty-three thousand.”
“Yes.”
“And three weeks later he flew back from Hawaii.”
“Yes.”
Rachel looked through the diner window.
A delivery truck was blocking half the parking lot.
The driver argued cheerfully with someone near the kitchen door.
“What are police doing with him?”
“He’s staying with his lawyer’s brother.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”
“You still answer.”
Vanessa nodded.
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Because twenty-one years does not disappear at the speed I want it to.”
Rachel looked at her.
That answer she understood.
She did not like it.
But she understood.
“Do you love him?”
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Rachel looked away.
Vanessa whispered, “I also think he may have let Abby die.”
The waitress arrived with a plate neither woman remembered ordering.
“Who had the grilled cheese?”
Rachel raised one hand.
The waitress set it down.
Vanessa stared at the sandwich.
A strange laugh escaped her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“You ordered Abby’s diner meal.”
Rachel looked at the grilled cheese.
No crust.
Fries.
Pickle untouched.
She had.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.”
Rachel pushed the plate away.
Then pulled it back.
She ate half the sandwich.
The next break came from David.
Not a confession.
A mistake.
His attorney provided investigators with a written timeline intended to explain the Hawaii trip and secret return.
According to David, he landed at 7:42 p.m., rented a car, visited Rachel’s house between 10:45 and 11:04, took coins he believed belonged partly to him, and left Abby alive in the kitchen.
He claimed he never went near the pool.
He claimed the backyard video merely showed him meeting Abby at the patio before she let him inside.
The timeline created a problem.
Rachel’s patio door recorded openings through a separate smart-home sensor.
The door opened at 10:59.
It did not open again until 11:08.
When Rachel, awakened by a sound she had never been able to identify, found it ajar.
If David left at 11:04, he had not left through the patio.
The front door camera showed no one.
The garage remained closed.
The side windows were locked.
Ortiz placed a floor plan in front of Rachel.
“Could he leave another way?”
“Kitchen side door.”
“Sensor?”
“Old contact sensor. I stopped replacing the battery.”
“Gate?”
“Side path connects.”
“So possible.”
“Yes.”
“Did you check whether that door was locked when you found Abby?”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“No.”
“You don’t remember?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you remember?”
Rachel hated this question.
She had been asked it dozens of times.
Her memories from that night did not behave in order.
She remembered Abby’s wet hair.
The scream coming from herself.
The phone sliding across tile.
The pool light under the water.
A neighbor climbing the fence because Rachel could not unlock the gate.
She remembered everything except what might help.
“I remember the kitchen door.”
Ortiz waited.
Rachel opened her eyes.
“There was something against it.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think slowly.”
Rachel breathed.
The kitchen side door opened inward.
Beside it was a narrow mat.
Abby sometimes left shoes there.
“I stepped on glass.”
Ortiz leaned forward.
“What glass?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was anything broken?”
Rachel shook her head.
“I thought maybe I broke something.”
“Were you injured?”
Rachel looked down at her left foot.
There was a faint healing cut near the arch.
“I had this.”
Ortiz stared.
“You didn’t mention it.”
“I didn’t think it mattered.”
“Did anyone photograph it?”
“Paramedic put a bandage on it.”
Ortiz stood.
“What kind of glass?”
“I don’t know.”
The police returned to Rachel’s house that afternoon.
Behind a narrow radiator cover near the kitchen door, a technician found three small fragments of amber glass.
Rachel recognized the color before anyone told her what it might be.
David wore amber-tinted prescription sunglasses for driving.
Not the pair he had worn to the funeral.
Another pair.
Old ones.
Rachel remembered him complaining about losing them in Hawaii.
Vanessa confirmed it.
“He said they fell off a boat.”
The fragments were sent for comparison.
The damaged frame later found in David’s motel trash matched.
The case shifted.
Not enough for certainty.
Enough for movement.
David was arrested on theft and burglary-related allegations first.
The exact charges changed as prosecutors reviewed evidence.
Rachel did not celebrate.
People expected her to.
Reporters gathered outside the courthouse.
Neighbors brought food again.
Someone left flowers on her porch with a card reading JUSTICE FOR ABBY.
Rachel threw the card away and kept the flowers because wasting flowers seemed stupid.
Vanessa filed for separation.
Not divorce.
“Why not divorce?” Rachel asked.
They were walking around a public park because Vanessa had started calling every Sunday afternoon and Rachel had started answering every third call.
Vanessa pushed her sunglasses onto her head.
“I don’t know yet.”
“That answer’s becoming your personality.”
“I’m aware.”
They walked past children throwing bread toward ducks despite three signs saying not to feed them.
Vanessa said, “I spent twenty-one years building decisions around another person. I’m trying not to make the next one because everyone is watching.”
Rachel kicked a pebble off the path.
“That’s annoyingly reasonable.”
“I’ve had a lot of therapy.”
“You’ve been twice.”
“Both sessions were extremely long.”
Rachel smiled despite herself.
Then she felt guilty for smiling.
That happened often.
Vanessa noticed.
“You’re allowed.”
“Don’t.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything inspirational.”
“Good.”
“I was going to say your smile is still weird.”
May you like
Rachel looked at her.
“Better.”
