Chương 3
She put it on the table.
Then she opened the dishwasher.
It was already empty.
That annoyed her.
Someone—probably Vanessa before Hawaii—had cleaned it after Abby died.
The thought made Rachel grip the counter.
Vanessa had stood in this kitchen three days after Abby’s death and loaded mugs into the dishwasher while Rachel sat on the floor against the cabinets because standing had felt impossible.
David had not come.
He had called from Hawaii.
He had sounded devastated.
Jesus, Rach. Jesus. I don’t even know what to say.
Rachel had apologized to him for ruining their vacation.
The memory made her stomach turn.
Her phone rang again.
Not Ortiz.
Vanessa.
Rachel watched it vibrate across the table.
She did not answer.
A voicemail appeared.
Rachel waited almost five minutes before playing it.
Vanessa sounded as though she were speaking from inside a car.
“Rachel, I need you to call me. I’m not with David right now.”
A pause.
“I need to ask you something about the time on that video.”
Another pause.
Then, more quietly, “Please.”
Rachel called.
Vanessa answered on the first ring.
“Where are you?”
Rachel looked toward the dark window above the sink.
“Home.”
“You’re alone?”
“That’s not your business.”
“I’m asking because—”
“Where is David?”
“I don’t know.”
Rachel said nothing.
Vanessa inhaled.
“He left.”
“From where?”
“We went to the airport hotel because neither of us wanted to go home after... after that.”
“After my daughter’s funeral?”
“Yes.”
“Use her name.”
Vanessa went quiet.
Rachel hated herself as soon as she said it.
Not because Vanessa did not deserve discomfort.
Because Abby had loved her aunt.
Because turning Abby’s name into a weapon felt ugly.
Rachel sat at the kitchen table.
“Sorry.”
Vanessa’s voice softened a fraction.
“Don’t be.”
Rachel rubbed a thumb across a scratch in the wood.
“What do you want to ask?”
“The timestamp.”
“Ten fifty-six.”
“Night she died?”
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
Vanessa breathed out.
Rachel could hear traffic through the phone.
Then a turn signal clicking.
“Vanessa.”
“I’m here.”
“You said you were together all week.”
“I know what I said.”
“Was it true?”
Another three clicks of the turn signal.
“No.”
Rachel stopped rubbing the table.
“How long was he gone?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Try.”
“Rachel—”
“Try.”
Vanessa’s voice tightened.
“He left the resort Tuesday afternoon.”
Abby died Tuesday night.
“When did he come back?”
“Wednesday evening.”
Rachel stared at the wall.
There was a crayon mark beside the pantry door. Abby had made it at five and denied it despite signing her name beneath it.
Rachel had never cleaned it.
“Where did he tell you he was going?”
“Maui.”
Rachel almost laughed.
Vanessa continued quickly.
“He said a client from Denver was there and there was some emergency with a contract. I didn’t ask a lot of questions because he was already angry.”
“You believed he flew to another island for twenty-eight hours?”
“He does business trips.”
“In the middle of your vacation.”
“Yes.”
“Without you.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you tell an entire church you were together all week?”
Vanessa did not answer.
Rachel waited.
“Because I panicked.”
“No.”
“I did.”
“You lie differently when you panic.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you get loud. You talk too much. This morning you answered before anybody asked you.”
Vanessa went silent.
Rachel heard a car horn.
Then Vanessa said, “He called me Tuesday night.”
Rachel felt the muscles in her back tighten.
“What time?”
“I don’t know.”
“You can look.”
“My phone’s almost dead.”
“Look anyway.”
“Rachel.”
“Look.”
Vanessa swore under her breath.
There was rustling.
A long pause.
“Eleven thirty-eight.”
Twenty-nine minutes after Rachel found Abby in the pool.
Rachel pressed her fist against her mouth.
“What did he say?”
“That he’d had a problem.”
“What problem?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Did he say Abby’s name?”
“No.”
“My name?”
“Yes.”
Rachel lowered her hand.
“What did he say?”
“He asked if you had called me.”
The kitchen seemed to contract around her.
“And had I?”
“No.”
Rachel had called 911 first.
Then Vanessa at 12:14.
Vanessa had not answered because her phone had been on Do Not Disturb.
Rachel had left a message that began with Vanessa, something happened and ended with sounds she still could not bear to hear.
“So at eleven thirty-eight,” Rachel said, “before you knew Abby was dead, David asked if I’d called you.”
Vanessa did not respond.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I know what it sounds like.”
“No. You know something else.”
Vanessa began crying.
Quietly.
Rachel heard the change in her breathing before she heard any tears.
“I thought he’d taken money.”
Rachel did not understand.
“What?”
“I thought he’d gone back for the coins.”
Rachel stood.
The chair legs scraped the floor.
“What coins?”
“Dad’s.”
The box in the hall closet.
Rachel turned toward it.
Her father’s coin collection was not particularly beautiful. Rows of old American coins in cardboard sleeves and plastic holders, each labeled in his cramped handwriting. Some were worth twenty dollars. A few were worth thousands. The entire collection had been appraised at a little over sixty-three thousand after his death.
He had left it to Rachel.
David had received the business.
Their father had considered that fair.
David had not.
Rachel walked to the hall closet with the phone against her ear.
“Vanessa.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You knew he wanted them?”
“He talked about them.”
Rachel pulled open the closet.
Coats.
Vacuum.
A plastic bin of winter gloves.
The small steel safe sat behind it.
The door was closed.
Rachel knelt.
Her fingers missed the keypad twice.
The third time she entered the code.
The lock clicked.
Inside were documents, a velvet jewelry box, Abby’s birth certificate, and three empty shelves.
The wooden coin case was gone.
Rachel sat back on her heels.
“Rachel?”
“They’re gone.”
Vanessa made a sound Rachel could not identify.
“When did you know?”
“I didn’t know.”
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