Chương 4
Paul put one hand over mine before I could tap Dante’s number.
“Not yet.”
I looked at him.
“If he was outside her window—”
“Then calling him tells him we know.”
Clara was already moving toward Ellie.
She lifted the child so quickly that Captain’s cloth bandage slid to the floor.
“Did he come inside?”
Ellie shook her head.
“Did he talk to you?”
Another shake.
“Did he see you?”
The child buried her face against Clara’s shoulder.
“I don’t know.”
Clara closed her eyes.
I could see her trying not to frighten her daughter with her own fear.
Father Michael picked up the fallen napkin and folded it without seeming aware that he was doing it.
Teresa came around the table.
“You’re staying in the main house tonight.”
Clara looked at me.
I said, “Yes.”
“No.”
Her answer was immediate.
She adjusted Ellie on her hip.
“I’m leaving.”
“To where?”
“My sister’s.”
“Does Dante know where she lives?”
Clara stopped.
“I don’t think so.”
Paul said, “That’s not the same as no.”
She shot him an exhausted look.
“I know what words mean.”
He accepted that without argument.
I opened the camera history again.
The system stored thirty days of motion-triggered exterior footage.
Nine visits suddenly became a problem with timestamps, license plates, and routes through the property.
I selected Tuesday night.
At 9:43, Dante’s black Mercedes entered through the service gate.
At 9:46, he parked near the maintenance shed rather than Clara’s building.
At 9:48, he walked out of frame toward the staff apartments.
He was wearing a dark coat and carrying nothing.
There was no camera on Clara’s kitchen window.
I had specifically refused cameras near staff residences when the security company proposed them because I did not want employees feeling watched in their own homes.
For the first time, that decision felt both decent and inconvenient.
The next recorded image showed Dante returning at 10:15.
He was moving quickly.
Paul leaned closer.
“Go back.”
I replayed it.
Dante stopped beside his car and looked down at his right hand.
Then he wiped his fingers against his coat.
Teresa whispered, “What is that?”
“I don’t know.”
Clara stood behind us, pale.
Paul said, “Do not decide what you’re seeing before we know.”
“I’m capable of looking at a screen.”
“Tonight, I’m not convinced.”
He knew me too well.
I hated him for approximately three seconds.
Then I handed him the phone.
“Save it.”
“It may already be stored.”
“Save it somewhere else.”
“That I agree with.”
He forwarded the relevant clips to himself and then asked me for the security administrator’s number.
I gave him Mrs. Alvarez’s.
Clara shook her head.
“Please don’t wake her.”
Teresa stared at her.
“Clara, someone was outside your window.”
“She gets up at five.”
Even then, she was worried about inconveniencing another employee.
That did something unpleasant to my chest.
I called Mrs. Alvarez anyway.
She answered on the second ring.
“Mr. Moretti?”
Her voice was alert immediately.
“I need you in the dining room.”
A pause.
“I’m in my apartment.”
“I know.”
“Is Miss Romano there?”
I looked at Clara.
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“I’m coming.”
She hung up.
Paul glanced at me.
“She knew something.”
“I noticed.”
Five minutes later, Mrs. Alvarez entered wearing sweatpants, a navy cardigan, and house slippers shaped like gray cats.
She had apparently seen no reason to dress formally for a family crisis after midnight.
Her silver hair was tied badly at the back of her head.
She looked first at Clara, then at Ellie, then at the rest of us.
“Where is Mr. Dante?”
“Gone.”
“Good.”
Clara said, “Mrs. Alvarez—”
The older woman lifted one hand.
“No.”
It was not harsh.
It was final.
“You’ve said sorry enough tonight.”
Clara’s mouth closed.
Mrs. Alvarez turned to me.
“What happened?”
I told her about the camera footage and Ellie’s window man.
Her face changed only once, when I said Tuesday.
She looked at Clara.
“You weren’t working Tuesday.”
“No.”
“I know.”
I asked, “Why does that matter?”
Mrs. Alvarez crossed her arms.
“Because he asked me whether she was.”
“When?”
“Tuesday afternoon.”
Nobody moved.
“He called you?”
“No.”
“He came here.”
I looked at the security log.
There was no Tuesday afternoon entry for Dante’s car.
Mrs. Alvarez read my expression.
“He came with the electrician.”
“What electrician?”
“The company replacing the exterior lights near the tennis court.”
I remembered approving an invoice.
I had not known Dante was involved.
“He arrived in their van?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said he needed papers from your office and did not want to drive back through the main gate.”
Paul muttered something under his breath.
I asked, “And then he asked about Clara?”
“He asked who was serving dinner.”
“That’s not the same question.”
Mrs. Alvarez looked at me as though I were being slow.
“He knew the answer.”
That silenced me.
She continued.
“He asked whether Clara was scheduled.”
“I said no.”
“He asked whether she was staying in her apartment.”
“I told him staff housing was none of his concern.”
Teresa gave a small, humorless laugh.
“I would pay money to have seen his face.”
“You have plenty.”
Mrs. Alvarez did not smile.
Teresa almost did.
It disappeared quickly.
Paul asked, “Did he say why he wanted to know?”
“No.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
Mrs. Alvarez looked at Clara.
“I tried.”
Clara stiffened.
“When?”
“Wednesday morning.”
“You asked if I had slept well.”
“Yes.”
“That’s not trying.”
“You had the child with you.”
“I was not going to say, ‘By the way, did the father of your daughter watch you through a window last night?’”
Ellie lifted her head.
Clara whispered, “Please.”
Mrs. Alvarez stopped.
The damage had already been done.
Ellie looked between the adults.
“Daddy?”
Clara’s face broke.
Not dramatically.
There was no collapse or scream.
May you like
She simply turned away and held her daughter tighter.
I had spent enough time around children in hospitals to know that adults often made the mistake of believing quiet voices prevented children from understanding terrible things.
