Chương 3
Richard said, “Before this goes any further, I would like to contact counsel.”
“You’re free to do that,” Alvarez replied.
She spoke to Claire first, then separated the adults. Oliver refused to let go, so Alvarez did not force him. She asked whether he needed an ambulance. Claire looked at the bruise near his eye, the marks on his wrist, and the swollen lip.
“Yes.”
Richard made a quiet sound of disapproval.
Claire turned on him. “Do not.”
It was the first time in her life she had said those two words to her father and expected him to obey.
For the moment, he did.
The ambulance arrived with no siren. Paramedics examined Oliver on a cushioned bench near the terrace doors while Claire sat beside him. He would not lie back. He kept one hand closed around her sleeve as a paramedic named Jules shone a light into his eyes.
“Can you tell me if your head hurts?” Jules asked.
Oliver nodded.
“Where?”
He touched the area above his left eyebrow.
“Do you feel sick to your stomach?”
He shook his head.
“Did you fall?”
Oliver looked at Claire.
“You can tell her,” Claire said.
“Grandpa pushed me.”
Richard stood twenty feet away speaking into his phone. His gaze shifted toward them at the sound of the word.
Jules did not look at Richard. “What did you hit?”
“The shelf.”
“Do you remember what part?”
Oliver touched his mouth.
The paramedic examined the red marks around his wrist. “And this?”
“He grabbed me.”
“With one hand or two?”
“One.”
“Which wrist?”
Oliver lifted his left arm.
The torn leather band slid toward his elbow. It was a narrow brown wristband Claire had bought for him at a craft market in Vermont. Oliver liked it because the vendor had stamped a tiny fox into the leather. The strap had torn beside the buckle.
Jules asked if the band could be removed and placed in a paper evidence bag. Oliver resisted until Claire promised he would get it back if the police allowed it.
“You said that last time about my rock,” he whispered.
Claire nearly laughed. The sound came out broken.
The previous spring, airport security had taken a sharp piece of quartz from his backpack. Claire had promised to ask for it back even though she knew they would not return it. Oliver had remembered.
“I know,” she said. “I shouldn’t have promised then.”
He considered this with solemn suspicion.
“I’ll ask,” she corrected. “I promise I’ll ask.”
He let Jules remove the wristband.
Across the terrace, Officer Kim photographed the cellar key on Richard’s keychain before allowing him to remove the entire key ring and place it in an evidence bag. Richard objected to the procedure in a low voice. He said several keys were private and proprietary. Kim repeated that he could make his concerns known to the detective who would follow.
Natalie watched the key disappear into the bag.
Claire saw her sister’s face drain of color.
“What?” Claire asked.
Natalie shook her head too quickly.
“What is it?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Then talk.”
“Not here.”
Claire looked at the officers, the guests, and Richard. “Here is exactly where we talk.”
Natalie folded her arms across her waist. “That key is the only one Dad carries himself.”
Richard’s conversation stopped.
Natalie did not look at him. “The wine cellar has two keys. One stays in the locked drawer in the butler’s pantry. The other is on Dad’s ring.”
“How do you know?” Alvarez asked.
“I planned the catering access. The sommelier needed to know who could open it.”
“Who had the pantry key?”
“The catering manager. Maybe Mom. I don’t know.”
The catering manager, a tired woman in black trousers named Beth, produced a ring of service keys from her apron. She had signed them out from the estate manager that morning. The brass cellar key was still attached.
Alvarez asked everyone to remain available for interviews.
Richard looked at Natalie with an expression Claire could not fully read. There was anger in it, but something else too: astonishment that Natalie had supplied a fact without first considering whether it protected him.
Natalie saw the look and lowered her eyes.
Claire recognized that reflex as well.
At the hospital, Oliver was given a private room in the pediatric emergency department. A nurse brought him a blanket printed with blue whales and offered apple juice. He asked for water instead, then did not drink it.
The physician, Dr. Shah, documented the injuries without making Oliver repeat the entire account. She explained to Claire that a hospital social worker would speak with them and that child-protection authorities would be notified because of the allegations.
Claire signed forms with a hand that shook only when she stopped paying attention to it.
Her phone filled with messages.
Daniel: Natalie is outside. She wants to see you.
Uncle Peter: Please do not speak to reporters or post anything. We need to protect Oliver.
A cousin: I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.
Another cousin: Are you sure he understood what he was saying?
Her ex-husband, Ben: What happened? Call me now.
Eleanor: Your father is at the house with his attorney. Please let me come to the hospital.
Richard did not message.
Claire answered Ben first.
He picked up before the first ring completed. “Where is he?”
“Greenwich Hospital.”
“Is he okay?”
“They’re checking him.”
“What happened?”
She looked at Oliver. A nurse was helping him choose between two adhesive bandages even though neither of his visible injuries needed one. He chose the green bandage and stuck it to the blanket.
“My father hurt him.”
There was silence on the line.
“Say that again.”
“Oliver says Dad grabbed him, pushed him into the cellar, and locked him inside.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“And you left him alone there?”
May you like
Claire shut her eyes.
Ben’s anger had always searched for the nearest available surface. They had divorced partly because she grew tired of being that surface, though she had once defended the habit as directness.
