Chương 4
“And the adoption?”
“That was for Noah. His father came back last year and filed for visitation after six years without contact. Then he missed two hearings and asked Julian for money to sign consent.”
“Did Mr. Vale pay?”
“No. Julian’s lawyer offered to cover Darren’s independent counsel. Darren signed after the judge made clear that selling consent could be criminal.”
“Where is Darren now?”
“Arizona, I think.”
“You think?”
“He changes numbers.”
Ortiz picked up her pen again.
When the interview ended, Mara stepped into the hall and found Julian waiting beside a portrait of his grandfather. His bow tie was gone. The top button of his shirt hung open, and Noah’s tears had left a dark patch near his collar.
“Where is he?” Mara asked.
“In the kitchen with Marta. He fell asleep.”
“I asked for Marta to stay with him.”
“She did. She called me when he woke up crying.”
Mara started toward the service stairs.
Julian caught up but did not touch her.
“Celeste’s attorney is here.”
“Already?”
“She called him before Ortiz took her phone.”
“Of course she did.”
“The police haven’t arrested her.”
Mara stopped.
Julian’s jaw tightened. “They say the evidence supports further investigation, but Celeste claims she believed the necklace was genuine and that she was conducting an internal inquiry.”
“She put her shoe on me.”
“I know.”
“She forced a pen into Noah’s hand.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth would be interesting.”
His eyes narrowed, not in anger but concentration. He used the same expression in business interviews when an answer might change the room.
Mara hated it then.
“How long did you know she was setting something up?” she asked.
“I received the access alert at five fifty-eight. The security firm had been reviewing a fault in the vault’s biometric system. They sent the report when Celeste’s override appeared.”
“You arrived after seven.”
“I was in the city.”
“You have a helicopter.”
“Grounded because of the wind.”
“You have drivers.”
“I came as fast as I could.”
“You called Vaughn at six twelve.”
“Yes.”
“He was in the ballroom while she held my son on the floor.”
Julian glanced toward the kitchen doors. “He said Celeste claimed she was preserving evidence and that you came voluntarily.”
“And you believed him?”
“I told him not to let anyone leave and not to allow Celeste to question Noah without another adult present.”
“He watched.”
“I know.”
There it was again.
Mara stepped closer, keeping her voice low.
“You adopted him this morning. By dinner, your sister had his wrist in her hand, and the men you pay stood still because nobody knew whether you meant what you said.”
“I meant it.”
“You said it in a courthouse where only six people could hear you.”
Julian looked away.
A server came around the corner carrying a bin of abandoned champagne flutes. She slowed when she saw them, then lowered her gaze and walked past. One glass tipped against another with a small, delicate click.
Mara waited until she was gone.
“You wanted a month,” she said. “Celeste used five hours.”
Julian rubbed his thumb along the edge of his white pocket square, an old habit that appeared whenever he was trying not to raise his voice.
“I should have told her.”
“You should have told everyone.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“No. You were trying to control the day people judged you.”
His hand fell.
“That isn’t fair.”
“It is exactly fair.”
The kitchen doors opened. Marta appeared with Noah asleep against her shoulder and a blanket wrapped around his legs.
“He needs his bed,” she said.
Mara reached for him, but Julian did too. Their hands met beneath the blanket.
Noah stirred.
Mara withdrew first.
Julian carried him to the cottage.
The walk took less than seven minutes, but police lights painted the bare trees red and blue along the drive. News vans had gathered at the gates despite the late hour. Someone had leaked enough for reporters to know that officers were inside the Vale mansion during the foundation gala. Camera flashes reached through the iron bars.
Mara walked beside Julian without speaking. Marta followed with Noah’s coat and one untied shoe.
At the cottage, Julian laid the boy on his narrow bed. Noah woke when Julian tried to loosen his grip on the tuxedo lapel.
“Don’t go,” he murmured.
Julian sat on the mattress.
Mara turned off the overhead light and switched on the lamp shaped like a yellow moon. Noah had chosen it at a discount store two years earlier, rejecting every expensive fixture Julian’s decorator suggested.
Marta stood in the doorway.
“I put soup on the stove,” she said. “Nobody will eat it, but it is there.”
“Thank you,” Mara said.
Marta looked at Julian, then at the torn uniform.
“Somebody should fire all those guards.”
Julian nodded once. “I may.”
“No may.”
“Marta,” Mara said.
“What? Tonight everybody becomes polite?”
She left before either of them answered.
Noah’s breathing deepened. His hand finally opened.
Julian rose carefully and followed Mara into the small living room. The cottage had once housed an estate manager. Its floors sloped toward the kitchen, and one cabinet drawer opened by itself whenever the washing machine entered its spin cycle. Mara usually fixed it with a folded grocery receipt wedged into the frame. The receipt had fallen out. The drawer stood open.
Julian pushed it shut.
It rolled open again.
For some reason, that nearly undid her.
She sat on the couch and pressed both hands against her face. Her cheek hurt beneath her palm. She lowered her hands.
Julian remained standing.
“I didn’t know she would go after him,” he said.
“You knew she would come after me.”
“Yes.”
“And you left me working in her house.”
“It is my house.”
“She didn’t think so.”
May you like
He looked toward Noah’s bedroom.
“The officers took the replica necklace, the confession, the pen, and the access photograph. The real necklace is still in the inner vault compartment.”
